#probably also when you beat the hell out of something you expect it to be dead for real lol

[chibishortdeath]

I think about this artwork of Christopher doing a spooky smile and the fact that the boss theme from The Adventure is called “Kill! Kill! Kill!” sometimes. I know his games don’t really give him a whole lot of characterization, but man I’m taking this as a character trait now lol. Serious, wholesome Mr. Dad Belmont himself can be a little sadistic if he wants to, like his job as a vampire hunter a little too much maybe—

Belmonts are allowed to be a little scary sometimes I think :3

[jongseongsnudes]

stress relief

roommate!jake. 2.4k words. smut with a perverted jake sim ft. ??

“show me your tits.”

“what the actual fuck sim?”

“i said what i said,” the man says so nonchalantly from the couch, a smug grin on his face. the one you swore you were going to punch hundreds of times before.

what started out as a peaceful saturday for you to study for the upcoming finals, turned into an entire afternoon full of your new roommate’s bullshit. the man had come home early - for once in his life - and decided to blast a horror movie in the living room.

you knew living with a roommate would be full of compromises but he also knew you were studying and setting the tv volume level at 70 for hours was a bit ridiculous. the man himself was already enough of a distraction as it was.

“show me your tits and i put the volume down. it’s a win win situation for the both of us.”

you could only laugh at the proposition, if you could even call it that. the audacity this man had to even suggest a thing but what did you expect, this was jake sim after all. the fuckboy-est fuckboy of them all.

“you’re an idiot. i’ll just go study somewhere else.”

you were back in your room before he could even open his mouth, not wanting to continue such a conversation with the man. you were already stressed out over finals and with the heavy storm outside, you really didn’t need jake’s antics right now.

jake sim had moved in after your last roommate three weeks ago and well... it had been hell for you since.

you weren’t exactly the shy type but jake sim was something else. not only would he blatantly flirt with you 24 hours a day but the man had a serious staring problem as well. sometimes you’d feel him watch you from across the room, other times he’d gawk at your legs like they were there for him to look at.

... which they sometimes were but he didn’t need to know that!

you’ve had to fight back so many times to not give in, to not give into his shameless advances... to not get on your knees for him because the last thing you wanted was to get involved with your roommate.

“why leave the comfort of our wonderful apartment, especially with the storm outside,” your roommate’s deep voice knocks you out of your thoughts, making you turn around to see him leaning against your door frame, “my offer stands, sweetheart.”

“i’d rather be out there in the storm than in here with you.”

“you know that’s a lie, you’d very much prefer to be here with me,” he laughs as he says so, mockingly. you watch as he gradually walks over to you, cornering you back against your table with that exact same annoying grin on his face from earlier.

your breath hitches when he leans in even closer, almost closing the very necessary gap between your bodies. you’re now very aware of his gaze’s direction and it’s not at your chest where it usually is, it’s at your lips. a smirk dawns his face at your tense reaction, the man obviously enjoying the effect his simple words has on you, “why are you so flustered roomie?”

“i’m not. now- now move. i need to go.”

he doesn’t say anything but is still fixated on your lips and it’s making you more nervous than ever. you just pray that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating right now because you’d never be able to live that embarrassment down.

“can’t blame a man for trying.”

“you’re unbelievable sim,” you push up against him, sending the laughing man back a few steps as you hurry to grab your bag and leave the room before you do something you’d regret. 

“sweetheart.”

you choke at the pet name, again, your feet stopping mid hallway almost immediately to his call. you know he’s behind you, his much taller frame so intimidating and presence one you can always feel from a mile away.

and that god damn cologne he uses. the one that always heightens your senses even when the owner isn’t around.

“what jake?”

“i have a better proposition,” his raised brows are enough to tell you that he’s up to nothing good, that his next few words are probably going to be something only jake sim would ever say. “let me eat you.”

what.

“w- what?”

“well you’re stressed and i wanna eat pussy,” he confesses so nonchalantly, like it’s the most normal thing to say to your roommate or to anyone for all that matters. “a distraction. stress relief. call it what you must.” 

as ridiculous as he was, he had a point. a good one too.

noticing your lack of reaction, jake takes the chance to lift you up by the waist and throw you over his shoulders with ease. you’re screaming, startled at his sudden move but that only causes the man to laugh more.

“jake what are you AHH-”

your words turns into a squeal once he throws you onto your bed, your body bouncing amongst the pile of fluffy pillows. there’s no time for you to react because the man is already hovering over, his face now close to yours. his eyes are on your lips, as if silently asking for permission and for the first time since meeting him, this was the only time you wished he just went for it.

“jake-”

“although i can tell from your face that you want me to devour this pussy,” he says, followed by a satisfied grin, “i still got to ask, do you want me to?”

it was the first time seeing jake so serious, his tone and expression the complete opposite of how he usually was. he just never came across as someone who valued consent so much so this was a surprise. a good one.

maybe you had jake sim all wrong.

“i’ll leave right now if you want me to-”

“yes. so do something or i’ll change my mind.”

the instant change on his face is one you don’t miss, or rather can’t miss. it’s as if a switch went on in his mind, going right back to the jake you were so used to.

the pervert.

“relax sweetheart, let jake sim make you feel good.”

you watch as he moves down your body, quickly finding himself a comfortable spot in between your legs to settle in. despite how cold his fingers were on your skin, your body felt hot, every part of you is screaming and impatient for him to do something. literally anything.

“hm pink? how pretty,” he pushes your dress up as he coos, revealing your pink panties that were practically soaked right now.

but damn, what a day to be wearing a dress and cute panties. thank heavens for that.

your mind was too occupied with the fact that this was really happening to realise jake had already slipped your panties off, doing so with such ease. like an expert but are you really surprised?

“i know, i’m thaaaat good.”

you immediately roll your eyes at his non sense, like a habit. but you don’t have time to complain, now becoming very aware that you’re just lying here, pussy on full display to your roommate who’s a little too focused on your bareness for your liking.

it’s crazy how it happened. from wanting to stay away from him, turned into you wanting nothing BUT him.

“can- can you just hurry up sim?”

“patience baby girl. let me do my thing.”

“jake- oh fuck!”

his lips suddenly pressing onto your heat causes your brain to literally melt, everything immediately forgotten besides him. it felt so unbelievably good, your body feels as though it’s on cloud nine and he had barely done anything.

and true to his words, he really is thaaaaat good. to call him an expert pussy eater would’ve been about right but you’re never going to admit that to him. not with that big head of his.

but the way he’s licking you, that god like tongue, really is something you’ve never experienced.

“oh my god oh my god jake-”

“yeah you like that? you like it when i do this-” he kisses your core again, his tongue flicking just enough to get you whimpering and clutching the sheets. it was so evil of him, he knew exactly what he was doing to you and the man continued to do so, painfully slow.

he grips onto your thighs, holding them down harshly when you begin moving about. the grip allows him to shove his tongue even deeper inside of you, bringing you closer and closer to your end. everything was driving you insane. his hold, his mouth, his tongue, the noise... the man himself.

“i can tell you’re close. already,” you could feel him smirking into you as he spoke, as if pleased with himself, “go on, cum for me sweetheart.”

the use of that nickname, along with his quickened licks is what does it for you. whimpers and his name are the only two things on your own lips as you finally reach your high but instead of moving away, the man begins lapping at your juices...

and man what a sight that was.

you’re definitely remembering this scene for when you’re horny and alone later...

“you okay?” you can hear him ask, your mind still hazy and unable to process much at all. that was until his face pops into view again, the man having moved back up your body, hovering over, with his lips now slightly swollen and glistening from the scandalous activity a moment before.

“yeah... i’m okay.”

“you sure don’t look it,” he chuckles, amused by your dishevelled state, “with the way you reacted with just my mouth, i doubt you’ve ever been fucked properly. am i right?”

“well...”

“i can fuck you right sweetheart.”

your eyes almost pop out of your head, his words affecting you more than they should’ve.

silence then overtakes the bedroom as you both stare at each other but no one says a thing. there’s something noticeably different in his gaze, like he’s contemplating, like he’s conflicted and to be fair, you were weirdly feeling the same.

“fuck- can i kiss you?”

you don’t bother replying and lean forward yourself, slamming your lips onto his. the sudden move surprises the man, who looked completely startled, eyes wide. you find it adorable that someone like jake could be so caught off guard and you’re proud that it was because of you.

he finally kisses you back, with desperation, like he wants to taste every part of you. and you let him dominate. your hands find their way around his neck, wrapping around it in order to pull him down closer. it’s a move you definitely know he appreciates with how he’s smiling into the kiss.

“you’re so damn pretty-”

*ring ring ring*

the sound of his ringtone roars from somewhere on the bed, interrupting whatever he was going to say and whatever this might’ve led to. how quick he was to reach for it weirdly irked you the wrong way, irritating you for some reason.

“as much as i’d love to continue this,” the man says without looking at you, too busy with his phone to even see your changed expression, “jake sim has places to go. so the apartment is all yours for the night.”

and without another word, he leaves your bedroom, followed by the front door softly slamming. it takes you a moment to realise that he actually left, that he abandoned you. although he did technically do as promised, this wasn’t how you were expecting your night with jake sim to end.

with you left completely hot and bothered.

you don’t want to be mad, you had no right to, but you are.

without hesitation, you disregard the rest of your clothes and grab your own phone. you didn’t have too much experience with sexting but you knew how to entice a man like jake sim and this was definitely how.

it takes you a few moments to finally press that send button, knowing that you 100% will regret this later. but you couldn’t care less right now, you needed him. and as quick as that sent word appeared next to your raunchy image, the little seen word also appears... but no reply.

did he just... ignore your nudes?

a million things rush through your mind, like how you were going to face him from now on. oh the embarrassment. you could probably avoid him for awhile... but not forever.

“you’re so hot. can’t believe i almost missed this.”

“J-JAKE?” and to your surprise, standing at your bedroom door was none other than your hot roommate, who’s gawking at your naked body without shame, “d- didn’t you just leave?”

“i was going to but then these,” he reaches for something pink from his pocket, something very familiar to you, and dangles it from his finger, “i couldn’t stop thinking about you with these in my pocket.”

“you stole my panties? you’re such a perv sim!”

“i only perv on you sweetheart,” the man makes his way to you, one hand grasping the pink material while the other is now palming the obvious tent in his pants. the sight has you naturally rubbing your thighs together, something jake immediately noticed as well.

he doesn’t waste any time, quickly pulling his shirt over, letting you admire his toned torso that you’ve thought about way too often for your own good. and now that it was literally hovering over you, free to touch as pleased, you swore you almost came to the sight alone.

“the person you were sending those nudes to just then, is one lucky fucker.”

“w- what do you mean sim? i sent them to you.”

“uh no you didn’t sweetheart. you know someone else named jake sim cause i didn’t get them.”

“no... but... i do know someone else named... roommate...” your voice mumbles off as realisation hits you. like a truck. you had named both jake and your old roommate as roommate in your phone. something you forgot to change once he left.

that means...

*ring ring ring*

[INCOMING CALL: roommate]

“oh fuck.”

to be continued.

2023 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.  

[wonwoonlight]

just one day / yoon jeonghan

⇢ Jeonghan x fem!Reader

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ fluff // angst // nonidol!au // brother's best friend // fake dating!au // they're idiots lmao // not edited nor proofread so pls bear w me lol // cursing and. two? kissing scenes.

⇢ A/N: this has been sitting unfinished in my google drive since... either last year or the beginning of this year lmao. i have always wanted to write brother's best friend and i had this sudden urge to finish it earlier so i did. been some time since i posted a proper fic so, enjoy~

He must be dreaming.

He must be.

“What?” Jeonghan says just for the sake of saying it.

“I like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You blink at his firm voice, wondering what kind of situation this is. Sure, you shouldn’t be confessing to your brother’s best friend, but you feel like you’ve been obvious enough and you don’t see why you shouldn’t confess when it’s been eating you inside out.

And, yeah, you didn’t expect him to do anything about your confession (or even say that he likes you back), but you didn’t expect this either.

“What do you mean I don’t?” you frown, looking at him accusingly. “I like you.”

“You don’t, kid.” He sighs, already feeling a headache coming. He’s not stupid, alright, he has enough sense to gather that his best friend’s little sister probably has something on him–a crush, perhaps, but he’s never thought it was real enough for you to feel the need to confess.

It doesn’t help that he is attracted to you, has always been since you’ve gone back from Sydney after finishing university a year ago. He admits he’s always thought you’re attractive, and if he’s being honest, he would’ve asked you out first if not for the fact that you’re literally Joshua Hong’s little sister.

As if it’s not enough that not dating his best friend’s little sister has always been a code he follows, Shua has always been a little too protective as a brother. He’s seen firsthand how the guy scared off some who had the guts to flirt with you, seen how for two decades only two guys had ever been declared good enough to date you (he couldn’t do anything about the flings you had when you were abroad, but at least you’ve always been appreciative of his protectiveness and you never missed to inform him of some guys who were actually trying to get it on with you).

Long story short, Jeonghan does not wish to be on the receiving end of Shua’s scrutinizing eyes regardless of how much he’s actually into you.

“Look, you know me,” he starts when he realizes you’re not backing down. He looks away, pretending to be frustrated, though it’s really just because he thinks he’ll relent if he looks into your eyes a second longer. “I’m not gonna make a good boyfriend and I’m literally your brother’s best friend.”

You don’t seem to care about the first part of his sentence, irked by the fact that him being best friend with Shua would be an obstacle in your way. Shouldn’t it be easier for him to get a seal of approval if he’s already close with your brother? But, then again, Shua probably knows Jeonghan inside out and knowing too much is never a good thing.

“So what?” you say anyway, because if there’s any word that would describe you perfectly, it’s ‘stubborn’. “Why does it matter that you’re his best friend?”

Jeonghan sends you a look, and you pout because you actually get what he means. You know Shua, after all, and as much as you want to condition yourself to believe that Jeonghan would be the person Shua approves of with all his heart, you also know that even if your brother actually approves, he would put him through hell just for the fun of it.

Anyway, this doesn’t tell you at all where Jeonghan actually stands about you.

“So, you don’t like me?” you shoot straight to it, as if Jeonghan wouldn’t be able to hear your heart beating like there’s no tomorrow if he takes even one step closer–as if your ears aren’t hot from saying it out loud. Jeonghan does not need to know how flustered you actually are.

And it works, because he seems to be taken aback by your boldness and you try your best to hide a victory grin at that. You should probably be more grateful that he can’t stand to look at you for more than three seconds; if he had, he would’ve seen the tip of your ears turning red and the speck of blush on your face, which means he could’ve easily taken control of the situation and turned it against you.

His silence encourages you, because if he really doesn’t like you then he would tell you so. As much as Jeonghan is a master of tricks and he’s great at acting, he’s never been good at hiding his feelings.

Jeonghan bites his lip, trying to get a way out of this. Why can’t he just say no and be done with it? Sure, he’s not in love with you or anything (yet?), but it’s a straight out lie to say he’s never seen you that way.

After all, there’s a reason why he’s been avoiding you the past few months. 

You just have to be more daring these days, and as much as he wills himself to behave, there are times when he’s already flirting with you before he knows it. He’s just lucky Shua has never caught you two.

Plus, you’ve taken a liking to wearing a crop top and it’s the absolute death of him.

“Tell you what,” you say before he does. “Date me.”

Jeonghan chokes on nothing, violently coughs that his shoulders are shaking and you actually need to pat his back so he’ll calm down.

“Are you okay?” You ask worriedly, and he’s terribly conscious of your hand on his shoulder and the other on his arm, of the way your brows furrow in concern, of the way your lips are a little ajar and if he moves forward just a little–

“Yeah.” He shakes his head despite the word, then clears his throat and squares his shoulders before he looks the other way around. He doesn’t step away though, and it’s so fucking stupid that he frowns when you do. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“Date me.” You repeat anyway, though you know this is Jeonghan’s way of  giving you an out in case you want to pretend like you didn’t just say that earlier. He opens his mouth, and you can hear what he’s going to say even if he hasn’t said anything so you cut him yet again. “Just for one day.”

“Kid–”

“Stop,” you say firmly, something akin to determination flashes through your eyes that he’s actually taken aback. “Stop calling me that.”

He sighs out your name, but you’re not hearing it because if you back down now you know you won’t have it in you to say this out loud again. You’re fueled by nothing but impulse and you’re not going to let Yoon Jeonghan himself slow you down.

“Han, I see the way you look at me–you’ve gone past seeing me as a kid since I came back from Sydney and it’s been a year since then. I’m not stupid.”

It’s hard to describe the way he looks at you, and he’s not blaming you because he is confused. The mixed feelings bursting in his chest is much too complicated for him to explain. Let alone through words, even his consciousness does not know how to register what he’s feeling.

Your face falls at his silence, and whatever courage that drives you up to this point is starting to ebb little by little. You’re so goddamn stupid–did you really think confessing to him would lift the weight off your shoulders? What made you think Jeonghan would be able to treat you as usual after you confessed?

Didn’t you confess only because it’s heaving you down? Because you thought you’d regret it if you stayed silent?

Then what is this weight on your chest? 

What is this disappointment looming all over your body?

Why the fuck are your eyes pricking with tears?

Still, you stand your ground and square yourself up in front of him. You’ve gone this far. If you’re going to be embarrassing, might as well do it for a reason. 

“Okay,” he breaks his silence, his tone defeated for whatever reason. It’s not discouraging though, more like unsure and maybe a little hopeful, and when you look up, he’s biting his lip in contemplation. “Just one day, right?”

“But you have to actually treat me like I’m your girlfriend.” You push, heart beating both in excitement and fear. Because what if he backs out of nowhere? He’s not that kind of person, but this situation is nothing sort of normal and his consciousness just might get to him if you don’t push him already.

Jeonghan bites his lip, looking at you like you’re a bad idea that he’s caving into. And he’s starting to think that it’s true. But if he’s being honest, he’s not against this at all. He also wants to know how it’d feel like to hold your hands and just listen to you talk without thinking about Shua and whatever that will follow if he ever finds out.

Frankly, one day wouldn’t be enough, but that’s better than nothing, right? And he would never have the guts to propose it himself, he admits, so this is a chance that he knows he wouldn’t get his hands on ever again.

He sighs, praying to every god up there that this won’t backfire on him.

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than to you, and then repeats it once again, this time firmer, looking at you straight in the eyes. “Shua’s going on a business trip next week, right?”

You nod.

“I’ll see you next Saturday?”

You bite down your lip so hard that you taste blood to stop yourself from smiling like an idiot.

Tuesday, 26 July

[14:32] Yoon Jeonghan😠: beach or amusement park

[14:50] ?????

[14:50] its not a surprise?

[14:54] Yoon Jeonghan😠: just pick one, kid

[14:55] 🙄 beach ig

Thursday, 28 July

[01:11] Yoon Jeonghan😠: festival or night market

[01:12] ?????? sir?? go to sleep??

[01:12] didnt you choose a place alrd???

[01:12] but night market

[01:13] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you go to sleep

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

…

Yoon Jeonghan😠 is typing…

[01:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: good night, kid

[01:18] nightttttt

Friday, 29 July

[22:20] Yoon Jeonghan😠: wear something light tomorrow, but bring a jacket just in case it gets cold at night

Saturday, 30 July

[00:03] k, boyfriend 😌

[00:03] sorry, i was on the phone with chaeyoung earlier

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: i really cant with you

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: and chaeyoung as in vernon’s cousin? your friend from high school?

[00:07] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you still talk to her?

[00:08] yes!! surprised that u rmb her :0

[00:08] and i actually just met her by accident earlier today and we decided to catch up thru the phone bc i had to go somewhere

[00:09] apparently, she’s dating choi seungcheol or smth 👀

Incoming call from Yoon Jeonghan😠 - 00:11

Call ended - 02:27

[02:27] Yoon Jeonghan😠: you fell asleep. night, babe 🤪 see you

You bite your lip in giddiness as you keep on rereading Jeonghan’s text, like you’re not giddy enough already at the prospect of today.

You fell asleep last night while on the phone with Jeonghan, but whatever curse you were about to dump into yourself for falling asleep during what might be your only chance to be on the phone with Jeonghan during ungodly hours was immediately wiped out when you saw his text.

Yes, you’d flirt with each other from time to time–but never through texts, and the prospect of having a message from him that you can read over and over again some time in the future is both delightful and… sad.

The sudden tug on your heart and consciousness is a little heavy, a reminder that he’s doing that because you asked him to. That whatever’s happening in the span of today is an illusion, one that Jeonghan agrees on creating.

Why, you don’t want to dwell on it too much.

That should be your motto for the day: fuck it.

So what if it was an illusion? Jeonghan agreed and you’re going to make the best out of it. If you’re never going to be Jeonghan’s girlfriend, might as well be shameless and live your teenage (and adult, if you’re being honest) dream and be his girlfriend for the day now so you can stamp it in your memory. You only have today and you’re not going to spend any second thinking about the technicality of it.

As far as you know, Jeonghan is your boyfriend and he’s taking you out for the day.

You jump when your phone pings, the notification on your lockscreen rids you of whatever negativity that was in your mind literally seconds ago as you grin and make your way out of your apartment.

[09:17] Yoon Jeonghan😠: am in the lobby. get ur pretty self here, angel.

For all you know, the world is plenty unfair. But seeing Jeonghan looking like that with a simple white tee and a faded pair of jeans reminds you just how unfair the world actually is. Like it’s not unfair enough already because he’s not your actual boyfriend.

“Come on, let me take a picture of you,” he says as he softly takes your hand, pulling you up from the mat. “The wind isn’t too strong and you’re looking particularly pretty today.”

You scrunch your nose as you mock annoyance, a failed attempt to mask your blush. Hopefully, Jeonghan would think you’re simply flushed because of the sun and not because of him.

“I don’t like taking pictures.”

“How dare you lie to me.” Jeonghan says without missing a beat. “I know you make Shua take a ton shit pictures of you when you’re out somewhere.”

You pout at this, and as much as you know Jeonghan doesn’t mean anything by it, the mention of your brother isn’t exactly welcome today because his name just reminds you that this isn’t real and he’s a big part of the reason why.

“Can you not talk about my brother?” You say softly, which Jeonghan easily catches even if he’s not sure you mean for him to hear or not. The sadness in your voice is genuine though, and he makes a mental note to stop mentioning Joshua for the rest of the day. He’s starting to question once again if this is the right thing to do even for a day–after all, Joshua is his best friend, and this particular conversation is the exact reason why he’s not supposed to do this.

But he’s promised you he’ll treat you like his girlfriend–perhaps another personal agenda of his because he does want to experience being able to be your boyfriend even for a day. He should’ve thought more before okay-ing your proposal instead of thinking about it right now when you’re in front of him, in a simple white shirt and a black skirt that stops just below the middle of your thigh but somehow still the prettiest he’s ever seen. 

He wonders if this is how you usually dress up for your dates, and something bitter makes it to the tip of his tongue as he thinks about someone else taking you on a date. 

“Sorry. Come on, let’s take a picture together.” His fingers wrap around your wrist to pull you closer before eventually linking them with yours. “You’re very pretty today, have I told you?”

“You have.” You scrunch your nose and pretend to roll your eyes at the sudden sweetness he basks you in even though you’re liking every second of it. “Literally one minute ago.”

“Well, you really do look very beautiful and I want you to know.” He lowers his voice an octave and stares right into your eyes before he eventually bursts out laughing.

“Stop!” You giggle, knowing that he’s doing this on purpose to annoy you. “That’s too fucking cheesy and you know it.”

He laughs along with you, then tightens his fingers in yours like they’re not interlocked already.

“I mean it though.” He whispers one last time, not looking at you this time around because his heart might fucking burst to say it to your face without the faux of messing with you. “You do look beautiful.”

At least you share the sentiment, as you quietly duck your head to hide your smile, whispering a thanks that’s only meant for the two of you.

Jeonghan keeps his end of the bargain, you’re happy to know, as you don’t even think about your brother and the pretense that is your relationship for the rest of the day. You freely flirt with each other, cheeky smile and winks being thrown here and there. His hands never seem to leave you, and you gladly cling on to him even if you don’t need to.

You get ice cream, insist that you want the plain strawberry one only to eventually switch with Jeonghan’s cookies and creams because his looks better. He plays hard to get before giving in to you, but not before swiping ice cream from the side of your lips and licks his thumb like that shit isn’t going to give you a heart attack.

It’s around seven when you both get to the night market not too far from the beach, and you’re both even gigglier than earlier which you didn’t think was possible. Your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you’re the furthest thing from complaining as you continue at whatever dumb jokes Jeonghan throws your way.

The night market isn’t as crowded as you think it would be, but it still is crowded and Jeonghan makes a show of throwing his arm around your shoulder because he ‘doesn’t want to lose you’ and you seem a little cold (which you kinda are).

You elbow him at this, shake your head and pretend like you’re not internally dying from the closeness between the two of you.

“That’s so lame.” You snicker. “Just say you want me close and go.”

“I do want you close.” He whispers unexpectedly, catching you entirely off guard that you trip on your own foot you almost fall on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize you tripped because you’re flustered, which works good for you, and he flicks your forehead as he scolds you to be more careful and goes back to holding your hand.

“Seriously. How are you still so clumsy?”

You don’t like being reprimanded by Jeonghan, because it awfully reminds you that you’re younger than him–that you’re his best friend’s little sister. And as much as you know Jeonghan definitely does not see you as a sister, the implication that he has to see you as one because of the association is very disheartening. 

“Why are you frowning?” He copies the gesture, and you shake your head, telling him it’s nothing. The night is ending, and you don’t want to waste more time thinking about stuff that you can think of tomorrow when you’re not in a time limited relationship with Yoon Jeonghan. “No, tell me–”

“Jeonghan?”

The both of you turn at the call of his name, and your frown deepens as you see Jisoo in front of you, Jeonghan’s ex that he amicably broke up with. The one ex that has always made you feel like shit because she’s everything you’re not and they were such a picture perfect couple that you’re sure they’d go back together someday.

It does not feel good to see her today of all days.

“Oh, hi!” She kindly greets you, her smile way too genuine for you to think she’s just being polite and secretly hates you inside. Gosh. You need to stop watching too many TV dramas. “Joshua’s sister… right?”

There it is again. The reminder that you’re his sister–something you really don’t need to hear today.

“Hi.” You smile awkwardly, and only then remember your hand is still pretty much joined with Jeonghan’s. You don't know how to feel about the fact that his reflex is not to let go of your hand in front of his ex who obviously knows your brother. You try to let go of his hand, but Jeonghan holds on tighter, as if telling you it’s okay and there’s no need to worry about Jisoo.

They share a small chat for a bit before eventually parting, and Jisoo wishes you both a good night, which makes you hate yourself so much for being jealous of the girl when she doesn’t even have an ounce of bad energy towards you.

You try to enjoy the rest of the night, but Jisoo’s appearance just reminds you that this whole thing is pretty much fake. That someone out there is going to be in your place for real–able to hold his hand and just be with him all the time without having to wait for your brother to go on a business trip to even hang out with each other. Without some stupid request and guilt eating them inside out because they’re not supposed to do this.

Trying to be subtle, you put on an act of wanting to visit every stall in the festival and pretend to be tired after about thirty minutes or so. You’re surprised Jeonghan isn’t already tired to begin with, this guy has the battery of a five-years-old phone, you didn’t expect him to actually bring you around until night if you’re being completely honest.

Jeonghan complies when you tell him you’re ready to go home, and you don’t even realize he’s also being weirdly quiet because you’re too deep in your thoughts. And it’s once his car is parked on the parking lot of your apartment building that you finally open your mouth trying to say something–anything.

You want to thank him for today. To thank him for making a memory that you’ll dearly hold on to, for giving you a standard of what a boyfriend is supposed to be even for a day. For fulfilling your dumb request when he doesn’t even have to.

But what comes out of your mouth is something entirely different and you almost want to bash your head against the door of his car right after.

“Whoever’s going to be your girlfriend is very lucky.”

You can hear Jeonghan takes a sharp breath, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying because you’re just so fucking stupid like that.

You try to remind yourself that you asked for this. That Jeonghan is doing you a favour and owes you nothing. That you should be thankful you’ve even gotten the chance to play girlfriend with him when he could’ve just embarrassed you and walked away after your proposal.

The deafening silence inside the car is very loud, and you feel like you’re suffocated by things unseen that you just want to get out of the car and take a very deep breath. So you do just that: reach for the door of his car because you can’t take being so close to him anymore.

It’s your fault. You shouldn’t have asked for this. Shouldn’t have asked for a taste of heaven because surely you would want more and you’ll die of thirst right after. Now you’re just going to be awkward with him until god knows when and you’re regretting it already. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You should’ve been satisfied with your close friendship with him, with loving him from afar. Now you’ve ruined things between you and him and who knows when things will get back to normal? He’ll fucking think of you as pathetic and it’s just going to be pity in his eyes everytime he looks at you now.

“Hey!” Jeonghan jumps in alert the moment you step out of his car, quickly follows through and catches you before you take another step away from him. “What–why are you in such a hurry?”

You look down to your shoes, because you can’t stomach looking at him right now just in case you’ll see what you fear will be reflected in his eyes.

“Hey… Look at me?” He tries once again, tone getting a little helpless. But you shake your head, because you’re sure you’ll start crying if you do and you want to preserve the little dignity you still have in front of him. But Jeonghan doesn’t stop there, he whispers a ‘please?’ and lifts your chin gently so you’ll look at him, his heart breaking when he sees how close you are to tears and his throat closing at how he’s the reason behind all this.

“Thank you.” You brave yourself. It’s the least you can do, because as much as you’re going to grovel for the next few months, you know that this particular memory with Jeonghan will always be dear to your heart and you’ll treasure it forever. “I’m sorry for taking your time and–”

“Ah, fuck it.” You hear him say before he dives into your lips, not minding the way you’re frozen in place out of shock. He hums against your lips, and it’s then that you finally kiss him back, your hands settle over his shoulders and your whole body relaxed under his touch.

When the both of you pull away, you’re a little out of breath and your thoughts all over the place. But there’s a small smile in Jeonghan’s face that gets you mirroring the gesture. He closes his eyes as he places his forehead on yours, and you follow suit, feeling the warmth of his breath on your face.

“It’s… okay for me to do that, right?” He asks, albeit a little too late. You still don’t know what the whole things mean, but you find yourself chuckling, because you honestly would let him do anything to you. But he doesn’t need to know the kind of power he has over you, so you simply nod and let him have his peace.

“Han?” You say after a while. “What does this mean for us?”

Jeonghan stares into your eyes, deep in his own thoughts as if he’s trying to rearrange his words so they don’t stumble out of his mouth like a trainwreck.

“Let’s see where this takes us?”

“But Shua…?”

He presses his lips together and wraps his arms around you, pushing you into his neck as he breathes in your scent.

“Whatever happens, happens.” He decides, already resigning that he can’t possibly let you go now that he knows how it feels like to have you like this. He’ll make your brother understand somehow, but right now, he wants to be with you and savors the little time he has with you before your brother comes back, not even minding the way his phone has been vibrating in his pocket.

[Joshua sent a picture.]

Joshua: heard from Jisoo you’re on a date w my sister??????????????????

Joshua: did you finally get out of your ass and stop being in denial lmaoooooooooooooo

Joshua: just pls be safe

Joshua: she’s still my sister

Joshua: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

[hubbvrd]

Protecting Boyfriend | Quinn Hughes

summary — During the Canucks home game, a man says some not-so-nice words to you because you're wearing a Hughes jersey. When Quinn finds out, he does everything he can to protect you and makes sure you get the pep talk you need to hear

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2165

warning — not-so-nice- words

A wide smile formed on your lips as you entered the Rogers Arena.

Today would be the game against the Coyotes that you've been looking forward to for the past week.

You can't wait to support your boyfriend Quinn and the rest of the team live in person, and then at home, in your own stadium.

You slowly walk down the stairs to your seat, from which you have a perfect view of the entire ice.

But from your seat you not only have a good view of the field, but also of the Canucks players who are seated not far from you.

That way, if your boyfriend wasn't on the field, you'd get a good look at number 43.

You can hardly wait for the stadium to fill up and the 1st period to begin.

In fact, it doesn't take too long before the stadium starts to fill up and various people fill the seats with their jerseys bearing the shirt numbers of their favorite players.

Today you are also wearing the blue Canucks jersey with Quinn's number on it, which you wear at every game you attend.

From the beginning, it was natural for you to show up at your games in his jersey and not to wear any expensive clothes to make your appearance at Quinn's games a kind of catwalk.

There were many wives or girlfriends of players who used the games to get themselves all dressed up and did half a shooting during the game to get likes and attention on Instagram or various other platforms.

But you've never been like this before. Supporting Quinn has always been your number one priority and that will never change.

"Hello," an older man in a Canucks jersey greets you as he sits down on the happy seat next to you.

"Hello," you reply in a friendly manner and give the man a friendly smile.

As your gaze begins to wander through the now full stadium and the noise level slowly rises, you feel a gaze on you.

Slowly, you turn your face in the direction of the man who had greeted you kindly just a few minutes ago.

Now there's a crinkled look on your face as he eyes you intently and begins to make you feel uncomfortable.

You've always been a little reserved around strangers, so the words that now leave your mouth surprise you.

"Is everything all right? Or is something wrong?"

The man begins to mumble something into his beard, which you can't understand due to the volume level.

"Excuse me? What did they say?" you ask as your heart starts to beat a little faster with nervousness.

You just want to watch the game in peace, without incident.

"I said that it's obvious that you're wearing a Hughes jersey of all things, like almost all the young women here."

"What makes you think that?"

The confusion was written all over your face. Of course you know that there are a lot of fans wearing the number 43 jersey, but there certainly weren't that many in the stadium just now.

"You young women now only pick players who look good. Most of you aren't even interested in the sport itself," he rants, causing you to look shocked.

You expected anything, but not this. What is wrong with this older man? And above all, what the hell did he have the nerve to say that to you?

Stunned, you start to shake your head and just as you've thought of the perfect answer, it gets loud and the teams enter the ice.

Probably better that way, because at least the man next to you was quiet and you could more or less enjoy the game.

Because you wouldn't let him ruin the day you've been looking forward to for a week.

—

The man had actually kept his mouth shut to you the whole game.

But when Quinn scored a goal and you, like several other fans, jumped up and cheered loudly, you heard other comments coming from his direction, but you couldn't hear them over the loud cheering and music.

Now the game is over, which the Canucks won 2-1.

A broad smile returns to your face, but it is immediately extinguished when the man next to you stands up and gives you an annoyed look.

"Well you fangirl? Did you even watch and understand the game? Or were you just undressing Hughes with your eyes?" His voice growls slightly, making you flinch and reflexively wrap your arms around your body.

This can't be true. Why can't the man just leave you alone and make his way home?

Even if you were just a fangirl who was only there because of Quinn, that wouldn't be his problem.

You just shake your head and leave your seat.

As you climb the stairs to get to the exit, you try not to let on too much how much the man has intimidated you and you're starting to panic.

It's all good, y/n. Just keep walking. You'll be with Quinn in a minute, you repeat the phrases over and over in your head as you leave the stadium, a light breeze blowing through your hair.

You breathe out deeply and close your eyes for a few seconds before opening them again and mingling with the crowd of fans to get to the back of the stadium.

There you will meet Quinn so that you can finally embrace him and congratulate him on his victory.

As you reach the back entrance, where a barrier has already been erected in front of the exit and one or two fans are already waiting to intercept their favorite player, you look around.

So as not to get in the way of any of the fans, you stand in the corner of the barrier so that everyone else has enough space. After all, you're not there to get autographs or photos, but to wait for your boyfriend.

But luck was not on your side. A few seconds later, the man you just met stands next to you and looks at you with an annoyed expression.

"Well, are you trying to get your hands on Hughes?" There is disgust in his voice. He speaks so quietly that only you can hear him.

Your heart begins to hammer faster against your ribs as your hands claw at the barrier and you try to stay calm.

"Stop it," you whisper on the verge of tears, which makes you angry with yourself for showing the man weakness.

But you can't do anything about it. The words and the way he treats you start to burn on your soul and reopen some old wounds.

You don't have an answer ready, but if you were honest with yourself, no perfect answer would shut the man up.

As the first players come out of the stadium and start signing autographs and taking photos with their fans, you stand on tiptoe to get a better look at when Quinn will finally arrive.

Quinn was never one of the first to leave the dressing room and then the stadium, so it would be a while before he arrived.

You would survive these few minutes - hopefully.

"Don't get your hopes up, sweetie. Hughes would never take you home," the man laughs as he steps closer to you.

"If they only knew..." You mumble, unaware that you've just spoken your thoughts out loud as you take a step to the side to put more distance between you.

"Excuse me?" the man hisses.

"I said, if they knew," you start and then gather all your courage for the next words that leave your mouth. "He's my boyfriend."

The man next to you starts to laugh out loud, attracting the attention not only of the other fans, but also of one or two of the players.

Confused, Dakota, Conor and Elias look in your direction. It took a few seconds for the three's eyes to grow wide as they recognize you and realize what's happening right in front of them.

"Hey, man. Do you want an autograph too?" Dakota asks as he approaches you and the man.

Dakota gives you a warm and gentle look, trying to make you realize that everything is going to be okay.

"Oh, I'd love to!" The man beams now and starts to engage Dakota in a conversation in which he is overly friendly.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elias run back into the stadium, followed shortly afterwards by Quinn.

Relief spreads through your body as you spot Quinn, who looks anything but pleased.

He looks angry.

Elias must have summarized everything for Quinn.

Several fans start yelling for Quinn, but he only has eyes for you.

He approaches you with quick steps, puts his hands on your hips and lifts you over the barrier.

"Are you okay, babe?" You ask him as you feel his tense muscles under the suit.

"I should ask you if you're okay, if anything. Why didn't you say anything?" Quinn looks down at you with a worried expression.

"I couldn't have said that during the game..." you begin, but are immediately interrupted by Quinn.

"But during the break. You could have texted me or come to the dressing room."

Quinn strokes your hair gently as he continues to look at you with concern.

His muscles relax slightly under your hand, which is still on his chest.

But you know that won't last long.

"I wouldn't take her home tonight!" A voice calls out, making you flinch.

Immediately, Quinn's muscles tense again as his face becomes angry again and his hands automatically clench into fists.

"Quinn..." You begin, but Quinn doesn't seem to hear you at all.

He gently pushes you over to Elias, who has become like a big brother to you over the last few years, when you've spent a lot of time with him and Quinn.

"Elias..." You mumble anxiously as you look up at the blond.

"Don't worry, y/n. He won't do anything stupid," Elias promises you, but you're not even sure if you can really believe his words.

From a safe distance, you watch Quinn more or less stumble the man together.

As you do, you pick up a few scraps of words, like "My girlfriend...She doesn't deserve this...Greatest person on earth...Our team doesn't need fans like you..."

It's not long before the man is taken away by security and Quinn returns to you.

Sniffling, you throw yourself into his strong arms, which he wraps tightly around you and presses you gently against him.

"I'm sorry," Quinn mumbles into your hair.

"It's not your fault," you sniffle as you look up at him and see a few tears in his eyes.

"But he hurt you and said things to your head that no one should ever hear. And if you get hurt, it hurts me here too."

Quinn reaches for your hand and places it where his heart is.

"Oh, Quinn..." you whisper as countless tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

He was incredibly sweet to you and now, after you had to hear those nasty and caustic words from the man, he made sure that you were moved to tears.

"If that happens again - which I hope it doesn't. Would I like you to come straight to me, Elias or another one of my colleagues, yes?"

Quinn looks you in the eye and then kisses your forehead.

"I promise," you murmur as you snuggle back into his arms and enjoy his strong, warm arms.

All the words that had hurt you just a moment ago disappeared as if by magic while you were in Quinn's arms and enjoying his closeness.

"I want you to forget all those words that man banged on your head, y/n. You know none of those words are true. I know it's hard to get these words out of my head, but I hope they help you. You're the best person I've ever met. You are the love of my life. You're always there for me, you make me feel better no matter how bad I'm feeling, you make me laugh and just your presence makes me feel good. I love you y/n and I could go on and on, but then we'd be here until tomorrow and I hope these words help you forget all the crap he's thrown at you."

His words caused a tear or two to roll down your cheeks. You were touched by how lovingly he treated you and had the perfect words to make you feel better.

And Quinn's words actually manage to put all the man's words out of your head once and for all.

Quinn was not only your friend, but also your protector.

Even though you do this side of him and you like how protective he is of you, you hope that something like today won't happen again.

[charliemwrites]

Part 7

Content: sparring and injury

Sparring is one of your favorite activities. With your team, it’s a chance to learn and improve, to keep from falling into old habits. And yes, okay, it’s also become something of foreplay. Especially with your captain, who seems to delight in tossing you around and pinning you with his bulk.

(And Keegan, who came in his pants once when you had him in a chokehold, one your thighs between his. But no, no, now is not the time to think about that…)

You’re not the best hand-to-hand operator on the team, sure. That title belongs to Nikto, who hits so hard and fast you’re down before you even realize he’s swinging. But you’re certainly a force to be reckoned with.

Not this much though.

If you were in the mood to give them credit for anything — and you’re really not — they’re at least subtle. You don’t catch on during the first round with Soap. Your brain has completely transitioned into the comfortable rhythm of practice combat. Something to be taken seriously, but not the high-stress of victory or death in a mission.

No, Soap gets away with it in the moment. You only notice as you’re taking your water break, rotated out with the uneven numbers between your teams. You’re surveying the pairs and notice him sparring with Keegan.

There’s something decidedly more intense about it. Like… like he’s putting real effort into trying to beat Keegan. An effort he did not put into fighting you.

Rage burns through you, hot and thick, buzzing in your head.

Does he think you’re not worth any real effort? Does he think you can’t handle a proper fight, that this is just playtime? Is he really treating you like some fresh-faced recruit that needs to be babied after all this time?

When you captain finishes wiping the floor with Gaz, you go to his side. One look at your face and he knows.

“Whose head is rolling?” He asks, plucking your bottle from your hand for a sip.

“Soap threw our match.”

His eyes flare before he closes them, swallows the water in his mouth and sighs.

“How do you want to handle it?” He asks.

“Wait, wait,” Gaz interrupts. And the look your captain gives him… Christ. To his credit, he doesn’t back down though. “He probably just thought it would be good, yeah? To… let you get some anger out.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, a mean laugh slipping out. The captain arches his eyebrows in what could almost be sympathy. Or arousal, hard to tell when he’s got such a good poker face. (Mix of both, you figure)

“Oh, he wants me to get some anger out?” You roll your shoulders. “Sounds like a great idea.”

Ghost is your last match before reset — before you’ll get a chance to show Soap just how much steam you need to let off.

Except now that you’re looking for it, you recognize almost immediately that he’s throwing the match. Probably especially because it’s Ghost. You never stood a chance against him before leaving, even now you didn’t have optimistic expectations for a fight with him. So the fact that it doesn’t feel like you’re working for every inch you gain…

The final straw is when you try a move from before. Something he never fell for once and always reprimanded you for using. He “falls” for it this time. You don’t pull your punch when it goes directly into his face.

Know immediately that he’s feeling it, that wicked hook Keegan always whistles over. Blinking past his mask. And you don’t let up, pressing and pressing the advantage. Take him down to the ground using all your built strength, twisting into a vicious arm bar and pulling, pulling, pulling—

“Bloody hell, I yield!” He snarls, palm slamming against your thigh.

You release him, but not without one last nasty kick to the soft spot beneath his ribs.

The gym has gone silent. You don’t care, pushing to your feet with hands still balled into tight, angry fists.

“You ever throw a fight with me again, I’ll break your fucking jaw, Riley,” you snarl.

Price, expression stormy, takes a step forward.

“He threw the fight?” He asks.

You scoff, “Either that or the 141’s quality is lacking nowadays.”

You step off the mat to join the rest of your team, exchange a frustrated look with your captain. Nova comes to your side, curling a finger into your belt loop in solidarity.

“Gotta say, Price, I’m disappointed,” your captain says. “This is getting out of control. I won’t have my team put at risk because yours can’t keep it professional. I’d rather just tell Laswell to get you a different support team.”

You’re almost surprised to see how the 141 jolts, four pairs of eyes flicking to you in panic. What in the actual hell?

“Take it easy,” Price says, eyes flashing. “I’ll have a word with them.”

You glance up at your captain, see from the twitch in his jaw and the tightness around his eyes that his patience for this is wearing gossamer thin.

“See to it. In the meantime, we’ve got work to do.”

He turns his back on the 141, and you’re all too happy to follow suit, pressing a kiss to Nova’s cheek when she sends you a worried look. Whatever weird issue the 141 is having, they need to stop making it your issue.

“Keegan, with me,” your captain says. “Nikto, you’re up against the girls.”

Nikto tilts his head in a nod, then jolts as you and Nova take either side of him.

“Gonna show us a good time, Nik?” You coo.

“Always love a tag-team,” Nova purrs.

The captain grins. “Have fun you three.”

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Masterlist

[safe-by-dawn]

~Obsessive Lover~

Ticci Toby Ver./ Kinks, Fetishes, and other Head-canons

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

A/N: Starting a small series to kick off the blog. Currently taking requests, so drop a name and I'll tell you what kind of lover I think they are.

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

NSFW under the cut! MDNI!

Toby is definitely an undercover pervert, and you'd never know the amount of times he sneaks a peek at you any chance he gets. He adores stalking any social media you have, saving your pictures to any device he can get his hands on even before you make anything official with him. Loves taking pictures of you when you're not paying any attention for material for later.

Sneaks into your room and steals anything that smells like you. At first it threw you off, but being the sick individual that you are, it started to intrigue you when some of your things wound up missing and for awhile you couldn't figure out why some of your favorite underwear wound up missing.

That is until you finally got with Toby for the first time and found a pair under his pillow.

This man loves to stare.

Even before you started your relationship with him.

You bend to get something and his eyes are glued onto your ass until you raise back up. You notice that he does it after some time, even going as far as wearing low-cut shirt and leaning into him just to get his eyes on you and watch the way he drinks you in.

It's intoxicating, you can feel his eyes burning through you anytime you're in the same room together, it's one of the things that drew you to him in the first place.

He's a very touchy lover, despite probably not being a big fan of touch from anybody else, but he just can't get enough. Expect to be groped and have his hands on you at any point in time.

He was taken in as a proxy super young, so the sheer pent up sexual aggression he has is unmatched after not having a chance in his youth with other women. You'd never know that until you got in the sheets with him though.

He adores the way your face turns a pretty red when he wraps his hands around your throat mid-fuck.

Toby has no knowledge of pain and sometimes can't gauge it on someone else so he definitely needs someone that can handle a beating in bed. You'll be left with bruising and scratches for weeks.

Loves biting and nibbling on you to hear any sound that comes from you due to it. It just drives him on until you're a bruised up mess under him.

A sadistic lover as well, loves watching you cry from it all being too much. Too much pain as well as too much pleasure at the same time can be a combo that absolutely tears you apart but he just knows if you didn't like it you wouldn't keep coming back to him for more.

The more confident he gets the less his stutter comes out, You can't convince me otherwise. It was very prominent early on in your relationship, lacing its way into almost every sentence, but as he gets more comfortable and knowing that you're not there as some sick joke, it still comes but he can form his sentences a little better.

Which also means that when his ego spikes from having you as a writhing mess under him, his mouth is absolutely dripping with seductive tease. It's like a switch flips inside of him, throwing you for a loop when he whispers the most vile things into your ear while he's balls deep.

Loves to call you his, going as far to whisper "Mine" in your ear when in close proximity to him. Calls you some of the best pet names around every one around you because he wants everyone to know what's his.

Loves when you show the bruises he gave you, prefers when you don't try to cover them up. Going as far as trying to wipe off the concealer on your throat that covers up the most recent one that he gave you when you do attempt to cover them up.

And if anyone else so much as thinks to lay a hand on you, he already has their hand in a vice grip, and then he fucks you later to solidify that you belong to him.

Toby is possessive as hell, and once you're finally his you're not getting out of it alive.

[reiniesainyo]

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 02

02 | WELCOME TO NY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. wow actual content who knew! i give some tidbits about rina and lukes dynamic as well for funsies (takes place at the start of the season premiere to probably episode 4-5 ish)

liked by iamcharliebushnell, walker.scobell, and 322,778 others thelnarchive best people to star in my first show with actually

walker.scobell pov: you at the end of this sentence 🤓👆 ↳ thelnarchive that** ↳ leahsavajeffries destroyed him with one word that's insane

user1 she's so gorgeous it's killing me

user2 her photo dumps are so cute it's so RAHHHHH ↳ user3 thank you yn for keeping us fed

iamcharliebushnell no photo creds? thats crazy...... ↳ thelnarchive 📸: charlie bushnell  ↳ iamcharliebushnell thank you 😁

user4 she's so pretty, i would go to hell and back for her. she could be sent to the underworld and i would go and traverse the entire underworld for her and bring her back, have hades let me walk out with her only if i don't turn my back and bet you baby i'm no orpheus because you're coming home ↳ user5 this is so real but also what the fuck

dior.n.goodjohn PRETTIEST IN CAMP HALFBLOOD ↳ thelnarchive NO YOU!

iamcharliebushnell for everyone's information, she yapped for like the 2 hour makeup and hair session ↳ thelnarchive you weren't interested in the cultural impact of feminist retellings of mythology? 😔 ↳ iamcharliebushnell i didn't say i didn't listen to every bit

user6 yn ln being a yapper and charlie being a listener was not in my 2024 bingo card but it is pleasantly accepted ↳ user7 the chemistry is kind of crazy

bellie 💋 @G1LLMOREGRLS theres like less than 3 minutes of luke and rina screen time but the way they look at each other is insane. ik luke visiting rina before leaving was implied and like them him contacting her even after the attempt too i still want to see some because the potential angst is so insane 🗨 19 comments 🔁 129 retweets ❤️ 707 likes

user1 "i lost luke three times in my life." if they remove this it better be for something even more heartbreaking

user2 honestly truth i'm manifesting so hard to see some of their iris messages like i can just imagine it ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS oh my fucking god that's so true, i want to see luke begging her to come with him and then her begging him to change his mind

user3 i want the new seasons to come sooner because i trust in rick's capability to give us what we want 💳💳💳 ↳ user4 i trust in the editor's to make what rick gives us even better brah ↳ user5 what if i said lascotellan to a hozier song

user6 the show ate with levitating as the replacement for poker face in e6 so i'm expecting a tragic song for their scenes too ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS dare i say we get a scene of luke regretting his actions juxtaposed with a scene of him and rina arguing with her telling him to silver springs by fleetwood mac ↳ user6 LUKE AND RINA ARGUING OVER HIS ACTIONS TO SILVER SPRINGS. YOU'RE A FUCKING GENIUS OOMF ↳ G1LLMOREGRLS luke thinking about her constantly when he thinks abt why he shouldn't have done it is so "you'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you"????

user7 YOU'RE SO CORRECT FOR THIS ‼️‼️ i'm so insane over them, tragic greek couple of the century

user8 i fear no one will ever beat rina saying she wanted to go to the underworld to get him back but deciding not to and letting him repent in elysium or try for reincarnation

liked by thelnarchives, dior.n.goodjohn, and 350,232 others iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse

thelnarchives you call me "the muse" so often i'm starting to think you don't know my first name anymore.... 🤨🤨🤨 ↳ iamcharliebushnell 😔 i would never do that to you muse ↳ thelnarchives i'm gonna start calling you traitor. ↳ user1 wat why would she call him traitor ↳ user2 oh you sweet summer child

user3 picture 3 is so cute i love her so much !!! and charlie's there too i guess

dior.n.goodjohn why are you hanging out with MY girlfriend ↳ iamcharliebushnell you snooze you lose :/

walker.scobell you owe me like 2 meals from our past bets and you keep saying your busy but obviously you're not??? ↳ iamcharliebushnell hanging out with the muse is a trip priority, man 🤷

user4 i'm obsessed with how charlie calls her muse they're so i want to Bite them. ↳ user5 he ate with the pet name

user6 that's actually me in the second photo guys

user7 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HER HAND PLACEMENT IN THE THIRD PHOTO??? ↳ user8 girlie's just scratching her own cat

[nunalastor]

Radioapple Secret Marriage/Relationship au:

(They were married from the beginning but no one knows. This is extremely self indulgent cause no one else was making this.)

When Alastor fell into hell, he needed some time to get his bearings – understanding his strength as well as other things. And as soon as that was done he wreaked havoc.

(Lucifer's pov from now on)

Lucifer had heard of a new overlord. Someone murdering and making others suffer while broadcasting their screams on radio. And usually, he never bothered with this stuff, demons could be demons and he wasn't someone to care about a few suffering sinners.

But when he saw the fact that his daughter couldn't sleep because she was worrying about the demons – he let her listen to the radio once and they both listened in silence to the screams – and when he saw how depressed she had been, he decided to pay this "radio demon" a visit.

And for one, he hadn't expected the radio demon – Alastor, apparently – to be so... How do you put it? Kind, welcoming, motherly, accepting... Well, let's just say that Lucifer's day wasn't dull when talking to him.

Originally, he was supposed to have a 'talk' with Alastor (basically give him a beat down but let's not sweat the details). But as time went on he found himself enjoying their conversations, his little antics and his cooking were all amazing. Everything Alastor did would just brighten his day, especially since Lilith was in the process of separating Charlie from him so he'd just started losing his daughter and wife – who was probably going to ask for a divorce soon.

He opened up to Alastor and the demon was surprisingly good at giving advice (honestly, that demon was full of surprises). And despite the good advice, Lilith kept leaving and soon the divorce happened along with his complete loss of custody over Charlie.

He would've gone into a deep depression had it not been for Alastor checking in on him and making sure he was okay. And so they hung out more, Alastor would always make sure to give him some homemade food and he also always asked Lucifer if he was okay.

Lucifer knew he was a sinner, a cold blooded murderer, a cannibal and so on. But honestly, he had fallen head over heels for Alastor. Alastor, who was quite sweet if you found him at the right time. Alastor, who always pretended to be a bad person by pretending to have bad intentions. Alastor, who cares for and loves his mother dearly.

He found Alastor beautiful, every side of him.

And so, he inevitably confessed. With the hope that he wouldn't end out like the street rat whom Alastor saved – Box, or something like that (yes spelling mistake was intentional).

And he didn't. Alastor certainly didn't love him (he only said "I like you too" which sort of hurt Lucifer but he didn't really care much about the difference) but he did accept the confession. And with that Lucifer felt as if he was over the moon.

They did couple things – human couple things. Both of then were inexperienced but it was lucky that Alastor often studied others around him. So they did those things.

They hugged, kissed, they even held hands! Could you believe that? And with their fourth date came Alastor's actual confession. "I love you." Alastor finally trusted him enough to say that L word.

Of course most of their dates were done under disguises or they had private dates where no one could see them. And with time Alastor began to open up even more.

Lucifer heard about his abusive, neglectful father. His murderous tendencies. The way he always felt different, somehow. And he comforted Alastor about these things.

It was nice, since he loved Alastor's genuine smile.

And soon he proposed – or they both did. Lucifer considered it his win since the ring he got was much more beautiful than Alastor's. But Alastor's held more sentimental value (it was a ring his mother had left him before she died). So they decided to leave that one at a tie.

The ceremony was held in private. Lucifer didn't want his daughter nor his ex-wife to know of his quick moving on and Alastor didn't want people to know how soft he could be.

And they were just like any other married couple, just much much more healthier and loving. And for the matter, they barely fought. Those days were when they first met. The days when Alastor didn't trust him and Lucifer wanted to beat him up learn why the hell he broadcasted screams.

So when it had been their seventh year living together in private (Alastor temporarily stepped away from his 'job' to spend married life with Lucifer), Alastor decided it was time to get back into the loop. Lucifer was quite sad about this but Alastor assured he would always make sure to come back on weekends.

It was funny to see that one day Alastor was standing beside his daughter and treating her like his own. And it was hard to act like he hated the demon, especially when he loved him so much.

(For the record, this is Lucifer fell first AND harder and it is not very canonlike but who cares! Both of them are a happy cute couple who pretend to hate each other and cuddle when no one is watching.)

(I needed more wholesome aus but no one else would write them so I delivered this. Have a nice meal kids.)

👀

[kitasgloves]

I'm in love with you

next track

— ♬ how haikyuu characters would tell you they're in love with you

— ♬ SFW, fluff, gn reader, no beta

— ♬ Kageyama Tobio

Kageyama was not familiar with romance, it was entirely foreign to him. He doesn't understand how people gain feelings for each other. He can't comprehend the enjoyment of having someone in your life. He thinks romance is trivial and doesn't bother associating with it. But as the typical turning point of every romance novel, someone was there to prove him otherwise.

You were in contrast to the setter. You met each other on your first day as the official manager of the SCHWEIDEN Adlers. Kageyama was curious about you. The sense of responsibility, resilience, and great humor oozed out of you that he can't help but be drawn. You were similar to a familiar orange-haired friend of his, but also different in many ways.

When he exhibited grey, you were bursting with colors. When he shines, you explode with light. When he took your kindness to heart, you brought out the best of him. After a long time of being exposed to you, Kageyama's heart can't help but beat so strongly when he's around you. It beats so strong that he fears he's going to need a second heart.

Kageyama has often thought about the beaming smile on your face, your melodious laughter, your hilarious comments, the scent of your clothes, the warmth of your skin, and the glimmer in your eyes. Kageyama concluded that he was probably going down with something, but what? The symptoms of his rapidly beating heart, his flushed face, and his antsy fingers are only present when he's around you. What the hell could this be?

"You're in love with [Name], aren't you?"

Hoshiumi teased him during their stretching after a practice match. Kageyama would've been quick to dismiss it with a logical response, but he falls silent and still. Ushijima takes notice.

"Hm, I notice the way you look at them, Kageyama"

"Yeah, you look all dazed and head over heels whenever [Name]'s around"

Their libero, Heiwajima added. Kageyama bites down an annoyed response and just shakes his head.

"I'm not in love with [Name]"

"Yes, you are"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

Kageyama was about to smack Hoshiumi on the head when their captain Hirugami stepped in between them with a disappointed stare. Kageyama goes home that day, thinking about his feelings for you. He's come to accept that he has formed some sort of crush on you, but he tells himself that he doesn't want more from you. But as time progressed, these complicated feelings grew, clearly affecting Kageyama even when he was on the court. The coach had to bench him out one time because his performance wasn't up to expectations.

He had to do something about these stupid feelings because he couldn't afford to be constantly benched. Kageyama has thought about what the characters in romance novels do to confront such feelings. They express them through giving gifts and hanging out with their love interest. So, Kageyama copies them.

The setter tries to woo you by giving you small gifts during breaks, making sure he's as subtle as possible. He gains the courage to ask if you want to watch a movie with him. Kageyama thinks he's doing everything correctly when he compares your happy responses to the romance novels he read. As Kageyama grew closer and closer to you, these feelings grew as it began to stress him out.

What in the world is going on with him?

It's like he loses his athletic talents and logical thinking when you come around. It's like you've made him weak when all you did was behave the way you usually do. Kageyama frowns at the thought. What should he do next? In the romance novels, the character confesses their feelings.

Confess your feelings?

Kageyama swallowed as a bead of sweat trailed down his forehead. He thinks he should do it then maybe these feelings would go away. However, as he tries to set this plan into motion, he becomes speechless. The way you gaze at him warmly and tilt your head when he calls your name has his stomach in knots.

"Ne-nevermind"

He would say every time. Kageyama desperately wants to tell you how he feels about you but he can't fucking do it. And the frustration shows especially on the court.

"Ow! What the hell Kageyama!"

Hoshiumi complains as he fails to receive Kageyama's monstrous serve. His teammates have been murmuring how aggressive the setter was lately. They wondered what could have made Kageyama so angry. The coach blows the whistle and instructs them to take five. Kageyama sits down and aggressively wipes the sweat off his face. His eyes land on you handing the team water bottles, his leg bounces as he waits for you to come to him.

"Here you go, Tobio-hmmph!"

Everyone gawked in shock, their jaws dropping on the floor, and some dropping their water bottles. Kageyama has read somewhere in romance novels that characters sometimes confess their feelings with a kiss. So, he decides that if he can't say it, he'll show you instead.

When the setter pulls his lips away, he takes in the bewilderment in your eyes and the pink hue on your cheeks. He inhales and looks at you in the eye.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

All of a sudden, he can finally say it to you. Everyone cheers and hollers at the confession. The pink hue on your cheeks turned into crimson. You gently peeled yourself away from the setter, trying to come up with a response.

"I-uh, what?"

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

Kageyama repeats. He sees you shield your face as you cutely shied away from him.

"You're joking"

"I am not"

"Oh my gosh"

Kageyama wasn't sure if he was getting rejected or friend-zoned. But as you regained your composure, you surprised him by pulling him by the collar of his shirt and kissing him. At this point, everyone loses it. When you both pulled away, Kageyama turned breathless as he blinked rapidly at you.

"I'm in love with you too, Tobio"

— ♬ Kuroo Tetsuro

Kuroo thinks his job at the JVA in the sports promotion division couldn't get more interesting until you rolled by. Initially, he viewed you as an adorable younger co-worker that he enjoys riling up. He couldn't help it when you gave him the most entertaining reactions. Immediately, the two of you created a bond of making the work atmosphere like a comedy show. Kuroo would purposely say something stupid to annoy you and you'll reply by scolding him or just whacking him on the head.

But under the comedic scene of your work relationship, Kuroo has taken a certain liking to you beyond the teasing remarks. He has grown to show ways in which he cares for you. When he's not being a teasing piece of shit, Kuroo checks on you like asking about your day or if you've eaten lunch. Sometimes he'd drag you to eat lunch with him, he'd even pay for the food. If the two of you were working overtime, he insisted on taking a heavy portion of the work so he could send you home early. When you'd protest, he'd make a clever deal to have you agree. Even the little things like lending you his jacket when you're cold, sharing his umbrella on rainy days when you don't have yours, and walking you home when it's late.

He wonders if you've noticed any of these things, he thinks he shouldn't care but he can't help but seek your reaction. Kuroo was in glee when he found you warming up to him and returning his gestures. You'd bring coffee for him in the morning, you'd share your lunch with him, and even invite him to one of your friends' birthdays. As time escalated, the somewhat relationship once filled with teasing was now replaced with unspoken tenderness.

Kuroo can act dumb and pretend. He can pretend he's not actively seeking you when in a crowded room, he can pretend that your smiles don't make his heart race, he can pretend that he doesn't care about your interests, and he can pretend that he's not falling for you. He would hide everything with his signature smirk and teasing comments, but secretly, he's dying to know if you would reciprocate his feelings.

So, he tries to quietly profess his love through his actions. Kuroo hints at his romantic feelings for you through the mundane things he would do at the office.

"I bought you coffee"

I'm in love with you

"Have you eaten lunch yet?"

I'm in love with you

"Here, you can borrow my jacket"

I'm in love with you

"I'll walk you home tonight"

I'm in love with you

There are times you're only treating every clue as his kindness and it's making his chest tight. Kuroo continues to do everything through his teasing.

"Your shirt looks like a clown vomited on it"

I'm in love with you

"Nice pants, [Name]. Did you steal them from your grandma?"

I'm in love with you

"You have the music taste of an edgy teenager"

I'm in love with you

"I hope no one has a crush on you yet because they're going to be disappointed"

I'm in love with you

You would always respond to his teasings with irritated sounds or physically hitting him. Kuroo was going mad at how every hint was flying over your head. He felt like he wanted to fistfight god. He was hoping, praying that you would take a hint and return his feelings because truthfully he was too scared to tell you.

"Just fucking tell them like the man you claim you are, Kuroo"

Kenma, his best friend, rolled his eyes at him when he told him everything about it. He hates how he was right. He needed to man up and tell you how he's absolutely lovestruck by you. By man up, he means getting drunk during a karaoke with all of his co-workers while singing karaoke. To be fair, the majority of the people were even more wasted than him. You were making fun of his drunken antics, filming them on your phone as blackmail later.

"You're wasted, Tetsu. Let's get you home"

"M'not drunk! Get your ass back here [Name] and dance with me!"

Kuroo pulls you against him and dances along to the sound of your co-worker's singing. You'd snort and laugh at him. He doesn't let you go even at the end of the song, he keeps dancing with you.

"Okay big guy, that's enough"

"You have nice eyes, [Name]"

He slurred and you raised a brow. You chuckled and shook your head, thinking it was just Kuroo being drunk.

"You have the prettiest smile too and the cutest laugh. I just wanna pinch your cheeks and kiss you right on the mouth"

This time you freeze and gaze at him wide-eyed. It may seem that Kuroo was beyond wasted with his drunken smiles and giggles. But you know what they say, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts.

"...Really?"

"Uh-huh. You put on the ugliest outfits but still look sexy anyway. You drive me crazy, [Name]"

Your heart skips a beat as heat blooms on your cheeks. While your co-workers were still partying, you took the responsibility to bring Kuroo home since he was too intoxicated. Kuroo wakes up on your couch, shirtless with a horrible hungover.

"Here drink some water and take these"

You were suddenly there to hand him some water and pills. Kuroo takes them graciously. You called him over for breakfast as he tried to recollect everything from last night. When he fails to remember what happened after drinking god knows how much alcohol, you'd laugh at him.

"I did something stupid, didn't I?"

"I got a video of it, don't worry"

"Anything else? I didn't throw up on you or something?"

"Not really but you said some interesting things"

And when you told him about everything he told you last night, Kuroo was mortified. His blood was cold but his face was hotter than summer. He watched in pure embarrassment as you sent him a teasing smirk.

"I didn't know you thought of me that way, Tetsu"

"I-I didn't me-mean it, I swear!"

"Aw, that makes me sad"

"God, [Name]"

Kuroo ran a hand up his face to his hair and tugged the roots. He swallows and sighs.

"Fine, I did mean what I said to you last night"

Suddenly, you're speechless. He leans forward, finding the courage to elaborate his feelings to you.

"You always run through my mind, I love the smell of your hair, the sound of your laughter, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, and I just..."

Kuroo pauses to catch his breath. You look like you were holding yours as you were waiting for him to finish. He offers you a sheepish smile.

"In summary, I'm in love with you"

It happened in a blink of an eye, you threw yourself unto him and crashed your lips against his. Kuroo can feel his heart go to a screeching halt. But as his eyes fluttered close and his hands found their place around your waist, he returned the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. The moment one of you pulled away, it seemed like the world had stopped.

"God, Tetsu. Here I thought I was an idiot for having a crush on you"

"Well, you still are"

You rolled your eyes and smacked him on the arm as he laughed. Kuroo kissed your cheek and smiled.

"But you're my idiot"

"Shut up and kiss me more"

— ♬ Bokuro Kotaro

Bokuto was naturally a free-spirited man who easily drew people into him and is easily drawn to people. It's mainly the reason why he has gained many friends and acquaintances. Bokuto was also easily intrigued by anything, especially if it was shrouded by mystery that aroused his curiosity. So, it was no surprise when he developed a fascination with you.

In summary, you were working as the MSBY Black Jackal's PR. You were reserved, professional, and oozing with confidence. You quickly gained the respect of both the athletes and your co-workers. Your first encounter with Bokuto wasn't anything spectacular, in fact, the spiker wished he had forgotten about it because it was embarrassing.

He has done something stupid that caused chaos on the internet and local sports outlets. It affected his image and reputation as a promising professional volleyball player, including his team. And as PR, you were tasked to handle it. It was decided that he should make an official statement to clear his and the team's name, so you created a list of do's and don'ts for the athlete's guidelines in formulating his statement and giving him the freedom to construct it.

You discussed with him the guidelines and Bokuto, eager to impress you, nods his head like an excited toddler. He knows he should've listened because all of the guidelines you told him were important yet it flew over his head. Bokuto was distracted by you the entire time you were explaining everything. He watched you like a fascinated owl, taking in your features. From the scent of your hair to your minuscule habits. He imprints your face in his head instead of the guidelines.

Fueled by the rapid beating of his passionate heart, Bokuto goes to make his statement. And it was a nightmare for you working as PR, the only thing that salvaged everything was how charmingly hilarious Bokuto was. It was a headache watching him say inappropriate and unnecessary sentences while live on television. You even considered resigning. However, after the ordeal, Bokuto comes up to you like an energized kid with shining eyes.

"How was it?"

Now, you were blunt. You made no room for sugarcoating your opinions. Yet the way Bokuto waited for your response made you bite your tongue. You sighed and merely gave him a thumbs up. He cheers.

Thinking back at it, Bokuto realizes how dumb he was. But hey, at least he still has his career and survived being canceled on the internet. Everyone was aware of how Bokuto was trying to befriend you, they didn't think much of it because the spiker always wanted to become everyone's friend. Somehow, he couldn't get close to you, or rather, you refused to let him near. It was odd considering that even Bokuto managed to be friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi.

"[Name] probably thinks you're annoying"

Sakusa said one time and it made his hair deflate. He didn't mean to come off as annoying so he tried a much tone-down approach. Bokuto would briefly form conversations with you during breaks, it was mostly about ordinary things like the weather or what you had for lunch. He thinks you're slowly warming up to him by being the first to initiate the conversations. Bokuto's heart flutters at you sharing your interests with him.

He knows things are taking a drastic turn when he finds himself sleepless at night. It was important for an athlete like him to have a good amount of sleep yet he failed to shut his eyes and fall into slumber. Bokuto's head was filled with impossible scenarios, romantic scenarios involving you and him. Bokuto would reach to brush your hair behind your ear, you'll wipe the rice off his cheek, you'll hold his hand, and he'll spin you around. Bokuto's eyes shoot open at the sound of his alarm, he checks the time and realizes he's thirty minutes late.

"Shit! I'm gonna be late for the practice match!"

He thankfully arrives just in time to stretch and play the match. While everyone was making fun of him for forgetting to put his hair up in his usual hairdo, you were giving him concerned glances. This was the fifth time he was late, and his performance on the court was less energetic, and he seemed sluggish too after practice.

"Bokuto"

You called out during the water break. Bokuto flinches but faces you with a bright smile.

"Hey hey hey [Name]! What's up?"

"...Are you okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem...tired. Have you gotten enough sleep?"

You watched as he let out a nervous chuckle and it was enough to answer your question. You sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You should prioritize your sleeping schedule because it's affecting your plays. I know I am not your manager in the team but it could seriously affect your image during official matches"

"Right, yeah. Sorry, I'll work on it! I don't wanna put any burden on you as our PR"

"Bokuto..."

This time you look him right in the eye and Bokuto's heart skips several beats.

"I don't care about you putting a burden on me, I have handled much worse than you"

You tilt your head towards Atsumu and Sakusa, Bokuto has to hold back a laugh at that. You suppress a smile.

"I care about your well-being and health because you're my..."

You paused, casting your gaze away. If Bokuto's hair was styled up it would start to deflate right now.

"Because you're my friend"

You finished with a hint of pink on your cheeks. Bokuto holds back the urge to clutch his chest at the rare display of cuteness from your usual stoic face. What you said both gave Bokuto a sense of hope and despair. It meant that there was a possibility you could view him as more than a friend or a friend only.

He's been overthinking about it since then, resulting in losing more sleep. Bokuto didn't want to disappoint you but damn it these feelings are getting really complicated! He figured he had to let it off his chest someday or he was just going to continue suffering by carrying these unspoken feelings.

Bokuto tries to ask you if you want to go out and see a movie. The first time, you decline. But he doesn't lose hope. He asks again if you want to go party with him at a club with the team, and you are quick to say no. Well, third time's a charm.

"[Name], would you like to grab dinner with me tomorrow?"

"No, I'm sorry but I have something planned for tomorrow evening already"

Ouch

Bokuto brings a fist to his chest and falls down to his knees in a dramatic display, having to be rejected for the third time. You might as well have stabbed him right in the chest. All of a sudden, you extended him a small envelope. He gives you a puzzled look. He takes it and it was an invitation to your friend's birthday party, his eyes went wide at the bold and italic instruction that one must bring a date.

"Huh?"

"See, I can't grab dinner with you tomorrow, I need a date for my friend's birthday party. I'm wondering if you're willing to be my date"

"Yes!"

The spiker grins at you and raises his fists up in victory in a ridiculous manner. You chuckled and shook your head. Bokuto literally pleaded with his friends (a.k.a. the entire team) to help him get ready for your date with him tomorrow. Bless them because they had his back from his outfit to styling his hair.

Bokuto arrived at your place to pick you up and my god did he almost fainted at how gorgeous you looked that evening. When you linked your arm with his on the way to the venue, he felt like tearing up. But he keeps it together. Everyone at the party complimented his looks, the way his hair was swept back to show his handsome face, and his tasteful choice of clothing. He thinks the night was going well. After your friend blows their candles, the party resumes.

There was lively music, and people scattered around either dancing or talking. But you and Bokuto were stuck in your own world, sipping champagne and exchanging hushed jokes. When a soft melody begins, Bokuto holds his breath and says a silent prayer.

"Would you like to dance with me, [Name]?"

He asks while extending his hand out. You take it with a nod and he feels like his body is floating. Everyone was waltzing with their partner and when Bokuto placed his hands around your waist he froze. Panic is visible on his face.

"What's wrong, Bokuto?"

"I don't know how to waltz"

"Oh, then let me teach you"

Bokuto's heart melted. There was trial and error. Bokuto keeps stepping on your foot while making an absolute fool of himself and earning a few amused giggles from other people. You only smiled patiently at him as he found the perfect rhythm.

"Holy shit, I did it!"

"Congrats, you're a quick learner"

The spiker smiled proudly at himself and you couldn't help but laugh. As the gentle music continued while you two waltzed on the dancefloor, Bokuto gulped. This was his chance! His chance to tell you how he feels. However, you opened your mouth first.

"Bokuto, do you have feelings for me?"

Crunch!!!

You winced as your face displayed pain when Bokuto stepped on your foot, rather painfully. You both pulled away. He becomes frantic as he apologizes profusely, ruining the moment between you two. Great, he fucked it up. He couldn't meet you in the eye.

"Bokuto"

He looks down at his feet, his face featuring an embarrassed flush. You sighed.

"Bokuto, look at me"

He continues to behave like an embarrassed child. You grabbed his broad shoulders and forced him to look at you.

"Kotaro"

Your eyes met his and his chest tightened at the way you finally said his first name. You were giving him a soft look, silently assuring him that everything was fine. Bokuto draws in a sharp inhale.

"I'm in love with you, [Name]"

A lot of people turned their heads at the loud proclamation. Your eyes went wide and your face heats up at the sincerity of his tone.

"I've been in love with you since the day I met you. You're just so interesting and I've been thinking about you so much that I couldn't sleep properly"

Bokuto confessed. A few people gasped, it seemed like the music was fading away too. The blush on your face intensified as you watched him rigidly.

"I want to touch you, hold you, and kiss you. I want to be the one that makes you smile and laugh. I want to spend the rest of my days with you if you'll allow me"

There was a collective sound of 'aww's from the moved audience watching the spectacle. You open your mouth to say something but Bokuto keeps going.

"I want to buy a house with you, pay taxes with you, and grow old with you. I...I want to marry you!"

In a flash, Bokuto gets on one knee making everyone gasp as if he's going to pull out a tiny box with a shiny ring. You frantically wave your hands around.

"Wait, stop! This is going too fast! I'm pretty sure you don't have a ring right now, Kotaro"

"Oh, shit, you're right"

Bokuto stands back up on his feet. You quietly went over to him and grabbed his large hands. The weight of the people's anticipating eyes goes unbothered to you.

"I suppose you have beat me, I meant to confess to you first. I'm in love with you too, Kotaro"

And the crowd goes wild. Bokuto lets out a scream and picks you up in his arms spinning you around like he'd imagine. The cheering goes deaf in his ears as he focuses on the sound of your laughter. It fills him with absolute happiness as nothing could compare to the joy of knowing you're in love with him too.

Although it seemed like a win for him, it ended up being a workload for you as PR because someone filmed the entire scene and posted it on social media as it went trending. Now everyone was dying to know who was the person that Bokuto Kotaro ended up offering his heart to.

— ♬ Oikawa Tooru

Contrary to popular belief, Oikawa had no luck when it came to romance. Sure, he had gorgeous looks, a hot bod, a charming personality, and a heart of gold. But he had no one to willingly lend his heart to. He had relationships in the past, all resulting in failure. But then he didn't mind, he didn't mind if he had no one to hold or share his secrets with. The Oikawa then wouldn't have cared if he didn't have someone to kiss. However now, he's growing conscious.

Oikawa was no stranger to being a heartthrob. He was used to being surrounded by people thirsting for his attention. Sometimes he reveled in it. But he thought how nice it was to have someone in the crowd to lock eyes with and smile because they saw him as who he really was. Perhaps, he's been consuming too much romantic media lately.

The setter is a hopeless romantic who believes in true love even though he hasn't technically encountered it yet. But he wishes to. Oikawa was growing tired of the media portraying him as a cool and super-talented athlete. He's just a stupid guy who's a volleyball nerd and obsessed with astrology. He's not out at night hooking up with someone, he watches Ghibli movies and listens to popular love songs. Oikawa was just an ordinary guy who wanted to be loved for who he truly was.

When he arrived back in Japan to have a vacation and reunited with his best friend, Oikawa wasn't expecting anything to happen. He thinks this is just another long vacation and after that, he'll return to Argentina and be back to the pathetically single moron that he is. And then he met you. Iwaizumi's roommate. Previously when he returned to Japan, Iwaizumi lived alone in his apartment, so he was surprised to see you answer the door instead of his childhood best friend.

"Woah, you're not Hajime"

You said and gave him a glance from head to toe. Oikawa stood stiffly with an awkward smile, hugging all his luggage. You raised a brow.

"You friends with Hajime?"

"Yes, I'm his childhood best friend"

Judging from the way you called his best friend by his first name, he thought you two were close. You furrowed your eyebrows and suddenly snapped your fingers.

"Oh, you! Heard a lot about you from my roommate, you're Oikawa right?"

"Yep"

"Cool, come in! Hajime was out doing some errands"

You smiled and opened the door wider to let him in. The apartment was livelier compared to the last time he visited. There were plants and aesthetic decorations that filled the spaces. Oikawa settled his things down by the living room and took a seat. You were only wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt as you walked to the kitchen.

"You hungry, bud?"

"Oh, no thank you"

"Good, I don't know what to feed you. Hajime does the cooking around here"

You laughed and the setter found himself chuckling. Your demeanor was welcoming and interesting. Oikawa watched you walk around the place tidying up, seemingly to make everything more presentable. Oikawa decides he wants to get to know you more.

"The last time I visited, Iwa-chan didn't have a roommate"

"Really? Well, I kind of begged him to let me stay here since my last place was shitty"

"So, how long have you known him?"

"Long enough to know he's obsessed with Godzilla"

You and Oikawa shared a laugh. You settled in the living room, plopping on the beanbag across from the setter, and chatted. Somewhat having a playful interview and getting to know each other. The way you matched Oikawa's personality impressed him greatly. Why the hell has Iwaizumi not introduced you to him yet?

You were a breath of fresh air. You talked to him without regard for his popularity, hell, he thinks you don't have a clue he's a famous athlete. Maybe you didn't give a shit, either way, he was glad. Both of you found a lot of common interests like volleyball and astrology. Oikawa for the first time felt like someone had finally glanced at his true self.

By the time Iwaizumi arrived at the apartment, you and Oikawa were blasting Taylor Swift in the speakers and talking about zodiac signs while sprawled out on the floor. There was a mixture of shock and disgust on Iwaizumi's face.

"Hi, Hajime!"

"Hi, Iwa-chan!"

You both greet him enthusiastically. Iwaizumi closed the door and crossed his arms, giving you two an odd look. He pointed at his best friend.

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough for me to know all of your embarrassing high school moments"

You replied with a mischievous giggle. Oikawa copied you. Iwaizumi mumbled to himself as he entered the kitchen while rubbing his temples. Oikawa was going to stay for a week, occupying the couch to sleep on. But the two of you grew close so quickly and suddenly, that you two would lay your mattress in the living room and have some sort of slumber party every night.

Oikawa expected to catch up with Iwaizumi but instead ended up bonding with his roommate instead. How could he not when you literally matched his energy so well? It was like you were the missing piece of his soul that made him whole. Like the Yin to his Yang, the sun to his moon, or the water to his fire. It seemed like the planets aligned when he met you.

His stay in Japan was unexpectedly filled with new memories with you. The two of you were always out and about either partying or exploring. Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend slowly carved a special place for you in his life. The man witnessed everything. When you two would get home at five in the morning wasted, later Oikawa would assist you when you're throwing up in the toilet. When you two would get into stupid arguments, mostly Oikawa would get upset and you would be the first to apologize as you two made up. When you and he would blast loud music in the speakers and have a mini concert, Iwaizumi got a complaint from the neighbors.

And most importantly, Iwaizumi witnessed how his best friend was falling in love with you. From the tender stares to the caring gestures, it was no mistaking that Oikawa had feelings for you. Iwaizumi knew the setter well, how he was a romantic but could be devasted and hurt because of it. How he desperately worked himself to the bone to become better. And how he longed to have someone who saw him past the charms.

Oikawa pouted when Iwaizumi forced him to hang out with him and Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The four of them went out for drinks and did some catching up. However, Oikawa was occupied texting on his phone, most likely chatting with you.

"Hey! Iwa-chan give that back!"

The setter whined when Iwaizumi snatched his phone and pocketed it. Matsukawa and Hanamaki laughed at him.

"Are you seriously talking to [Name] right now?"

"Huh? How did you know?"

"Iwaizumi filled us up with your unfolding romance with them"

Hanamaki replied. Oikawa glared at him and blushed, Iwaizumi and Matsukawa shared amused laughs.

"Just admit it Shittykawa, you're in love with [Name]"

"I am not!"

The way the setter immediately denied provided a great amount of proof. Oikawa loved to deny the truth, especially how painful it was. He denied how he wasn't naturally born with talent, he denied the fact he hasn't gone once to Nationals, and he denied how he was harboring strong feelings for you.

Because the truth was he was petrified. Now, that he found someone who can make his heart beat so fast, he doesn't want to fuck it up. Oikawa doesn't want to fuck up the friendship he had with you. Oikawa was sure you only saw him as a friend and only held platonic feelings for him. He thinks confessing to you would just fuck up everything, so it was better to stay as friends than ruin what he had with you.

"Just confess, you idiot"

"I can't, Mattsun!"

"Why? Are you scared?"

"...Yes"

Oikawa exhales. His friends shared a look. He was about to leave Japan tomorrow. He won't be seeing you again for god knows how long. His heart aches at the thought of being so far away from what he deemed as his soulmate. He felt so stupid for falling so easily. Curse his stupid heart and stupid feelings.

"Oi, you're not stupid for falling in love, okay?"

Iwaizumi reassured him. Oikawa gives him a grateful smile and gulps down his beer.

"I know. It's just never met someone who made me feel so complete and I would hate to ruin everything because I admitted what I feel"

"That's love, dude. You get happy and hurt at the same time"

Hanamaki said. Matsukawa gives him a pat on the back as he tries not to get teary-eyed.

"I shouldn't have returned here"

"Hey, cut that out. How else you would've met [Name]?"

"Yeah. Just tell [Name] how you feel and if all goes to shit, you'll still have us"

"No homo tho"

Everyone shared a lighthearted laugh. Oikawa has really been counting his blessings but meeting you was the greatest blessing of all. As he finishes another glass of beer, Oikawa takes a confident stand.

"Okay! I'll tell them how I feel!"

All of his friends cheered and patted him on the back. Oikawa thinks it will be fine, even if he'll inevitably end up sobbing like an ugly baby on his flight tomorrow back to Argentina. As he returns back at the apartment, he sees you scrolling on your phone. When you see him enter, a warm smile spreads on your lips and it makes his knees weak.

"Hey, Tooru"

"[Name], can I tell you something?"

"Sure! I got something to tell you too"

"Oh, you go first!"

Oikawa insisted. He was nervous as fuck, he needed spare time to prepare how to spill his feelings for you. But you shook your head and laughed.

"Nah, you can go first"

Shit

"No, I insist"

"Come on, Tooru. I don't mind"

"No, you go first"

"No"

"Yes"

"No!"

"Ugh! Fine!"

You raise a brow as he runs his hands down his face with a frustrated groan. Oikawa looks you in the eye, his eyes growing wet the longer he stares.

"I've been thinking this through and...fuck! I can't do it!"

The setter turns away and collapses on the couch. You give him a concerned look and join him on the couch.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything?"

"I'm leaving tomorrow, [Name]"

"I know, it's making me sad as fuck, Tooru"

"I...I don't want to leave"

"But you can't"

"I don't want to leave you"

Oikawa sniffs. You frowned and grabbed his hands, he looked at you. Your gaze meant something deeper, like you were gazing directly at his soul, witnessing his flaws but seeing past them by holding his hands. Oikawa was convinced you have always seen the real him no matter how much he pretended. And he stares back at you like you're the best thing that has ever happened to him in his life. Oikawa inhales.

One, two, three...

"I-"

"I'm in love with you, Tooru"

You blurted out. Oikawa's eyes bulge out of its sockets. His mouth goes agape as his face displays sheer bewilderment. You nervously smiled.

"Sorry, I can't stand seeing you leave without telling you how I feel"

"[Name], what the fuck?"

"I understand if you don't feel the same-"

"I'm fucking in love with you too, [Name]"

Oikawa finally confesses. You gasp in response before letting out a breathless laugh. He doesn't miss the way your eyes became glassy.

"Oh my god, tell me you're kidding!"

"No! Never! [Name], I'm in love with you. I was about to tell you but I got nervous"

"We're fucking idiots"

You said as you both burst out laughing. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes both from relief and joy. As the laughter subsided, you both gazed softly at each other. This time Oikawa grabs your hands.

"[Name], you have completed me. You see me as who I am and I just want to be on your side all the time"

He goes to kiss your knuckles turning your face red. Oikawa sighs as he traces your knuckles with his thumbs.

"But I have to leave you behind, here in Japan. I wouldn't mind if you want to start a long-distance relationship"

"Oh, about that"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when I said I was going to say something to you?"

"Oh, wasn't that the confession?"

"Nope!"

You grinned and went over to your bag and pulled out your passport and a flight ticket. You showed it to Oikawa.

"I'm coming with ya to Argentina!"

"Oh my god!"

Oikawa couldn't control himself as he picked you up in his arms and spun you around the living room. You laughed as he excitedly babbled how he was excited to return back to Argentina with you. Oikawa felt like the luckiest man alive, striking the ultimate jackpot to romance. Because he gets to be with you, who made his heart whole.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[souliebird]

[[and then I met you || ch. 4]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to protect his new family from not only Hell's Kitchen but from the world.

pt: 1 | 2 | 3

words: 4k

As you walk to the park that is a few blocks away from the diner with Matt and Minnie, you allow yourself time to think. 

Minnie is tucked into her stroller, Scooby Doo and Pig clutched firmly in her arms. She is excitedly updating Scooby about the drama that is the ducks at the pier. Matt walks beside you, his cane in one hand, held up away from the sidewalk, while his other lightly grips at your elbow. Neither of you talk - he's probably concentrating on walking and listening to Minnie babble. You wonder how often he's walked with someone while they push something - it seems awkward. 

Which has got you thinking about the best way to get around when you are all out as a family. The stroller is great storage, but you can transfer that into a backpack pretty easily. The problem is you are not sure if you can carry Minnie for that long.  She's small for her age but you're not that strong. She's been walking more and more, but you don't expect her to make a big jump so soon. 

Maybe you can invest in a wagon. You are sure there must be one somewhere you can buy that fits your needs. It's not like Matt is the first Blind parent ever. 

You add it to your mental research and buy list. You also need a Braille labeler - you know for a fact Minnie is going to want to learn it to be like her father and you'll need to label everything anyways. It will help you both learn. 

Your mind won't stop whirling and adding to your list - it's jumping from fun to practical to everything in between. You wish you could get out your phone as you walk to type everything up, so you won't forget later. When you get to the park, you'll do just that. You have a feeling Matt will be too preoccupied to care if you're on your phone for a bit.

You can sneak in some pictures, too.

The pier isn't as crowded as you expect it to be for a Saturday. People are milling about but most of the benches along the walking path are open.  There are a few couples having picnics on the grass and some at the tables along the river having lunch. 

You have a preferred spot in the corner of the park - there's a bench that faces the grass and the river, so you can sit while also watching Minnie. It also has a good view of the fountain, so it is perfect for duck watching. As usual, no one is there so you lead your little group there. 

As you come to a stop, you describe where you are to Matt. You try to be accurate without sounding condescending. Then you jump into the plan, "I have a blanket in the stroller. We can lay it out and we can play here, and we can also sit on the bench while Mouse does her thing."

Matt hums his approval, "that sounds perfect. Do you need help setting up?"

You turn the question to Minnie, "Do you need help setting up, Mouse?"

She looks up at you as she works on unbuckling herself. She scrunches up her face as she considers the question then shakes her head, "No, I'm a Big Girl. I can do it by myself. Thank you…" She trails off as she tries to remember the rest of the phrase. This isn't something you've taught her - she's picked it up from you apparently. She remembers after a beat and smiles up at Matt best she can from the angle she's at, "Thank you for asking."

Matt looks so surprised by her adorable politeness. You chuckle as a grin spreads across his face before he answers her. 

"You're very welcome." 

You hold the stroller steady, even after putting on the break, as Minnie climbs out. Instantly she turns back around and sets her toys where she was sitting.

"You have to wait here," she says as she buckles Pig and Scooby back into the stroller. 

You look over to Matt as Minnie starts to pull things out of the storage space. He's got his head tilted towards where she is piling things in the ground, this soft little smile on his face. He looks so relaxed and happy. You wonder what is going through his head - if this is anything like he thought it would be. 

None of this is how you thought it would be. You never considered this could be a possibility - being here with him and Minnie, enjoying time together as a family. It makes you kind of giddy thinking this could become a thing. You could come to the park on Saturdays and watch the ducks together. 

That's something you never had as a kid. You never had family outings. You went to school and went home - that was your childhood. No family vacations. No weekend getaways. No special trips. You were lucky if you were allowed to accompany your parents to dinners out. 

You never felt wanted as a child.

Minnie is never going to experience that. You love her to the moon and back and you let her know at every turn.  You show her in every way you can think of that she is your world. 

You don't expect Matt to feel the same way you do, even if you are pretty sure he's already head over heels for his daughter. You know he must be extremely busy running his own firm, but you hope you'll be open to your idea of spending this time together. Lunch on Saturdays, then coming to the park. It's a perfect little outing. 

You make a mental note to ask him.

Minnie is efficient in her setting up. She spreads out the blanket, making sure it's laid out flat. Then she brings her backpack over and pulls out her notepad and crayons and the cutest thing is she is narrating all by herself.

"And I brought bubbles, too! And my sunglasses!" She shows Matt her stylish Barbie sunglasses before unfolding them and putting them on. "We match!"

"We match?" He confirms, his voice getting a touch soft. 

"You match," you say with a smile. "Her glasses are a little more pink than yours. And cat eyed."

"Mommy, put on yours too!" Minnie requests, and who are you to deny her? You pull your sunglasses out from your purse and perch them on your nose.

"Now we all match," you tell Matt with a bit of a shy smile. Your little one loves to feel included and dressing like you is one of her favorite ways to do that. You have a feeling it will be no different once she gets closer to Matt and she will start to mimic him more. The glasses are just the first step. 

Of course, Minnie doesn't register that her sweetness is having an emotional effect and continues on by pulling one of her many paper maps out. You're lucky that such things are out of style - it makes them extremely cheap. You bought a bunch of random map booklets online for about twenty dollars and giving them to her was a bigger event than Christmas. 

You watch her unfold it and lay it out on the blanket and can't help but smile. You lean towards Matt to update him once you realize Mouse has distracted herself and has stopped talking. 

"She brought one of her maps with her and now she's trying to figure out which way to turn it. I think it's safe for us to go over now." 

You unlock the stroller and offer your arm out to Matt, letting him know you have done so. He gently takes your elbow, and you lead him the few feet into the grass. He uses his cane to find a free space to sit and lowers himself to the ground, somehow managing to sit legs crossed despite his tight slacks. You angle the stroller, so Scooby and Pig are watching over you before joining everyone else on the ground.

Attention turns back to Matt as you settle. Minnie looks over to him, her smile lighting up. She moves to be between the two of you, crawling on her knees to do so. 

"There's duckies by the water," she tells Matt as she plops back down.

"Would you mind telling me about them?" He asks, voice taking on just a bit of emotion. You know it's something Mouse can't pick up on, but it makes your heart sing a little bit. Seeing Matt react to your daughter and how much he wants to interact with her makes you emotional in all of the best ways. 

You turn a little so you can get a better look at the fountain - there are some ducks milling about and you are extremely curious how Minnie is going to describe them to Matt.

"They are over there!" She points to the fountain, then to your great surprise, uses her non-pointing hand to take Matt's hand and over her own. He seems stunned as well, as it takes him a few beats before he starts to feel over her little fist and discovers which way, she is directing his attention. 

"That way?" He confirms, motioning in the same direction. 

"Uh-huh, and there's…there's one. Two. Three. Four! There's four ducks," she counts, moving her hand to try and show him where each duck is. Only they are grouped pretty close, so you don't know how helpful that is. It's the thought that counts.

"You're really good at counting," Matt praises and your little one lights up.

She puffs up her chest and proudly declares, "I can count to six."

"You can count to six?" He repeats, sounding in awe. You really don't know if it's genuine or played up, but either way you find yourself grinning. 

She answers in the affirmative before starting to describe the ducks. They are more brown, but she tells Matt they are yellow. You don't correct her - you want Minnie to describe things to Matt in her own words and get comfortable with it. You can ask him later if those little details are something he wants depicted as accurate. For now, you let Mouse and Matt bond. 

She drops his hand once she's done showing him exactly which duck is which, then jumps into actions. "They are sitting and brushing their flappies with their nose. Mommy says that is their bath."

"That's right," you affirm, "they don't have a bathtub, so they use their beaks to clean their feathers." You always try to relate new concepts back to things Minnie will understand. She gets she has to brush her hair to keep it clean and not tangled and you told her feathers are like the ducks' hair, but their brush is their beak.

"Ducks are stinky and need lots of baths," she tells Matt with lots of confidence. She's never told you the ducks smell bad before, so you are amused by this new information. "Dogs are stinky, too. But not Scooby, he's not stinky."

"I think dogs are stinky, too," Matt says in agreement, this little smile starting to grow on his face like he and Minnie share a secret. The knowledge they have something else in common spurs your daughter on.

"There's a doggie over there," once again, she picks up Matt's hands and directs him towards a nearby couple with their dog. "He looks like a snowball. And that doggie," she points them another way and you have a feeling Mouse's new goal is to make sure Matt knows all the animals in the park. 

You take this opportunity to get your phone out so you can write out your notes. But, first, of course, you snap a few candid photos of Minnie sitting beside her father, hand and hand, talking about dogs. You catch a one you will definitely want to print and hang - Minnie beaming up at Matt mid-sentence while he looks like he is enthralled by every word. You can't help yourself and also record her telling him about an old fat dog someone is walking. 

You are sure you'll want to look back on this moment in a few years’ time.

Or maybe tonight.

You have to pull yourself away from the camera app and force yourself to switch to your notes. You already have something going for things you need to buy and start adding to it, half listening to the pair beside you. There is so much you want to write; you feel like you type non-stop for five minutes straight before you open up the web browser on your phone to see the price of the items you want. 

Things aren't as disgustingly expensive as you expected them to be, but you will still need to rearrange your budget a bit. You shouldn't need to dip into your savings if you put one or two things on your credit card, if your mental math is adding up. Of course, things might get more costly depending on quality - you are never one to skimp on that. 

You are going to have to do a lot more research. There is probably a forum somewhere that will give accurate reviews of products and you'll probably find things to buy you hadn't even thought of yet. 

You debate starting that search on your phone. At least until you notice Minnie is starting to tilt her head so she can rub her ear against her shoulder. You have told her she can't put her fingers in her ears after she managed to cut the inside of one with her nails and it got infected. This behavior is new, so you put your phone down and address it.

"Does your ear itch, Mouse?" You ask, thinking maybe her hair is tickling her or a bug got on her. 

"The boom-boom is too loud," she says with a pout, and you have no idea what she is talking about. The park is relatively quiet - no one is playing music and the river is clear of boats. But if your baby is saying something is too loud and it is hurting her ears, you are going to listen to her. She knows what she is experiencing, and you don't. You never want her to dismiss something that is hurting her.

Matt cocks his head to the side, his smile turning down into a frown, "The boom-boom? Which way is that coming from, sweetheart?"

Minnie, still holding onto Matt's hand, points towards the seating area by the river. There are a few people sitting there - but they are not making any sort of ruckus. 

It doesn't matter to you - you fish the pair of noise canceling headphones you always have on you out of your purse. You unfold them and gently put them over Minnie's ears. She squirms before finally letting go of Matt to fuss with their positioning. 

"Is that better, honey?" You ask, gently rubbing her back, hoping to give some comfort. She pushes at her eyes with the back of her hand before nodding. She takes a few moments to adjust then your little one turns and crawls her way into your lap, burying her face against your neck and hugging onto you. You wrap your arms around her, starting to rock in hopes it will make any lingering aches go away.

Matt is facing towards the direction Minnie said the loud noise was coming from, his brow wrinkled and openly scowling now. For someone with such a joyful smile, his unhappy face is a little terrifying. 

"I put her noise canceling headphones on," you tell Matt. He jerks to face you, his expression relaxing into something more concerned than angry. 

"Is she okay?" 

"She will be. She's crawled into my lap, and it takes her a few minutes to get used to the headphones. She might get a little fussy if whatever was bothering her is still going, but she'll be okay." You kiss your daughter's hair before looking back to Matt. "I don't know what triggers it or what she can hear that I can't, but the headphones help." 

"Does this happen often? Needing the headphones?" He asks and there is something in his voice that makes you feel like this is an important issue to him. His worry is almost tangible. You remember your phone call and his apprehension when you mentioned Minnie's sensitivities. It feels like you something you should review together when Minnie is preoccupied, and you can have more privacy. 

"Enough that I bring them with me when we go out. There's always sirens going off and if they are close, they hurt my ears, so I imagine they hurt hers." You rub your hand in a soothing motion over Minnie's back. She's leaning heavy into you, and you wonder if all her excitement has drained out of her after this upset. 

"Have you mentioned it to her doctor?" Matt asks, cautiousness in his voice like he's worried he's overstepping. You want to tell him he's allowed to ask these questions, but now is not the time.

"We did a hearing test, but they were only concerned if she couldn't hear, not if she was hearing too much. She hasn't gotten any ear deformities or any other medical problems with her ears, so they just sent us on our way, saying she'll grow out of it. She says the headphones help, but you can hear me just fine, can't you, Mouse?"

She nods against your neck, mumbling into your skin, "I don't like the doctor."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry." You give Matt a sad smile, "I think they are just too big for her. But she can play in them and hear me still, so I try to think of it as a plus?" 

"A plus?" He asks, brow scrunching up slightly. Again, he doesn't sound judgmental, only curious. 

You shrug, "I don't know, thinking of everything so negatively all the time is draining, so I just try to even out the pro-con list. Like, sometimes she'll wear them when we are here and I can go sit on the bench, but if I call out to her, she hears me. I can let her be a little independent, but she's still safe. I can be three feet away instead of right on top of her. When I wear my earphones, I can't hear anything at all. So, they help but don't block everything out? When she gets bigger, we can find ones that fit better. And she gets a cute little accessory and we get to make the little sleeves together. There are so many cute headphones, too..." 

You trail off, unsure where you are going with your little explanation. You aren't even sure it makes sense. Matt's still got a strange little frown on his face and you don't know if it's from how Minnie is acting or from how you are handling everything. You have to bite your lip to keep you from continuing on, rambling about how your daughter's sensitivities will never be a burden. 

Matt wets his lips with his tongue, and he starts to pick at the hem of his pants. It's a small insight to how he is feeling, and you don't know what to do, so you just keep rocking Minnie.

"After I lost my sight, I only had a few months with my dad," his voice is so soft, you can just barely hear him, but you are so focused on it. "It was hard on him, harder on him than it was me. He didn't know how to help me; he didn't know how to get the resources - not that a lot was available to us. But he tried, you know? He really did…and when I lost him, it felt like I lost that, too. I mean, the social workers and nuns were there, I wasn't neglected, but…it wasn't the same." He angles his head towards you, motioning to his ears. "And I know this isn't the same situation, a sense being sensitive versus losing one completely, but you being so in tune with her needs, it reminds me of my dad." 

You can't imagine how high of a praise that is and you feel yourself turning pink. Matt ducks his head, this shy little smile on his face like he knows how touched you are. 

"It is what she deserves," you mumble. You want to push past your own awkwardness, so you clear your throat and default to questions you already have in your mind. "Do…you want to do this again? Next Saturday?"

His head jerks up in surprise and a smile blooms across his face. "I would love that."

"Love that," is grumbled against your neck and right away you know Mouse is going to need her nap soon. Once she starts mimicking like this, it is only a matter of time before she is conked out and you rocking her is only luring her closer. 

Matt looks completely over the moon by the comment, and you dare to push just a little bit. "I was thinking…maybe we could make this a thing? Saturday lunches?"

Matt licks his lips then nods, his grin just getting bigger and bigger, "Yes, yeah. That would be…yeah." He seems a little overwhelmed by the thought, but in a good way. Like he didn't think it was a possibility. 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, then tilts his head so it appears he's looking down at the little girl half asleep in your lap, "I want that. I want…this. I want it to be official." He drops his hand, "You said we need to do a doctor's appointment. What would be after that?"

"They have over the counter ones now, but I think that would be best. Then…altering documentation and stuff, at least, officially and legally." You don't want to get into the discussion of rights and such at the moment and Matt seems to be on the same page. He's a lawyer, so it must be occurring to him. "I'll, um, contact the doctor and ask when we could come in."

Fingers brush against your thigh and you look down to see Matt offering out his hand. Hesitantly, not knowing what he wants, you take it. Gently, he squeezes your fingers, then starts running his thumb over your knuckles. 

"Thank you. For finding me. For this. For her. I thought God had showed me what my path should be, but I think I was foolish for thinking He was done with me just yet," Matt says, voice so soft and fond. "He was just preparing me for this."

The religious talk makes you flush - you don't remember if you've ever actually been in a church before - but it seems important to Matt, so you gently squeeze his fingers back, and as usual, say the first thought that crosses your mind. "I thank God for her every day. Somedays, I really do think she is Heaven sent." 

"Our gift from God."

You fall into a comfortable silence, you holding Mouse as she gets limper and limper against you, and Matt beside you, a little breeze blowing his hair a bit and somehow making him look ethereal. You have to tear your eyes away from him - even if he is blind and you are wearing sunglasses, it is rude to stare. Instead, you focus on the ducks.

They are still cleaning their feathers, but now one has started to quack occasionally. The ambient park noises are almost relaxing, and you find yourself thinking maybe, just maybe, all of this is going to be okay. Maybe, the world won't spiral out of control now that Matt is in your life. Maybe, you'll just keep having nice Saturdays at the park until Minnie decides it's too uncool to spend the day with her mom and dad and wants to hang out with her friends instead. 

But that won't come for a very long time. Right now, you'll sit holding hands with the man who changed your life forever and the little angel you have both been blessed with. 

a/n:

yes matt, god dropped a building on you to make you a better dad

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets @mayp11-blog@danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt

[furuyalover]

taking care of him at a party

— ft. atsumu miya

AN: just a lil sum while i work my music event drabbles 🤍 also this was soo fun to write so pls request any other characters i should do this for !

your roommate was throwing a party in your shared house, and it was fun at first. however your social battery was running kind of low, and you felt like taking a break anyways. “hey im a little beat, but if you need anything i’ll be in my room” you tell your friend and then you make your way to your room.

you lie down on your bed, and decide to maybe take a small nap to help you feel better. but not even 15 minutes into your nap you hear a soft knock on your door. “come in” you groan, as you readjust yourself so that you can sit up and see whoever’s at your door, expecting your roommate needing assistance with something for the party. but to your surprise, your greeting by three familiar faces, one being a very drunk atsumu miya.

being practically held him by his twin brother and good friend suna, the former embarrassingly says “y/n im so sorry for barging in, but is it ok if we let atsumu take a break here? every other room was occupied and your roommate told us to try here” atsumu was smashed, you could tell that he was shitfaced and it was more like osamu & suna who needed the break.

“what? ok sure yeah whatever. just lay him down over there i guess.” too tired to really even refute their request, you instruct the two to carry their drunken friend on the side of your bed opposite of you. this is where you decide it’s probably time for you to turn in for the night.

you leave atsumu to rest on your bed, and head into your bathroom to change, shower, and what not to get ready for bed. by the time you’re done you chuckle to yourself when you see atsumu is still knocked out on your bed. admittedly, you found it kind of cute to see him like this. peacefully asleep, in his natural state, a change of pace from his usual loud and brash personality, it didn’t help that he was in your bed as well. after placing a glass of water and some tylenol and advil on the nightstand next to him, you sit on your side of your bed and start mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

you text your roommate, updating them on the wild situation you found yourself in. “y/n are u fr rn? this is like the perfect chance for u to confess to him hello??” a smile forms on your face after reading that text, “bro what hell no. that’s so awkward 😭” “ur trippin, worst case scenario u can tell him u we’re js drunk” rolling your eyes at that suggestion, you exit your texts and go back to your scrolling.

a few minutes go by and you feel atsumu shifting in your bed, followed by a slight groan. “oh god where am i” he groans as he rolls over, rubbing his eyes, to face this mysterious figure sat beside him.

“well you’re not downstairs getting shitfaced that’s for sure” you snark with a small chuckle, slightly admiring how cute he looks with his messy hair and flushed face. “oh shit! y/n! is this your room? oh my god did we..?” amused by his slight panic you reassured him that nothing happened, “no no don’t worry, you were absolutely plastered so suna and your brother dropped you off here so you could rest. there’s some tylenol next to you, you should really take some”

she’s such an angel wow, he thought to himself as he took the pain relievers you so kindly prepared for him. “god those assholes, sorry you had to deal with that” he quietly, almost embarrassingly apologizes. giggling at his annoyance you assure him it’s fine and that it’s not a big deal. but then the gears start turning in your head a bit, as you start to develop a lil plan to semi-confess to him.

“the party isn’t probably gonna end for another few hours, so if you want you can just crash here if you want. i can just sleep on the couch or something” almost immediately, a grin plasters on atsumus face, and his usually cocky self is back just like that. “i mean that’s rather rude ya know? i wouldn’t want such an angel who had to take care of a drunken asshole to sleep on the couch. you should probably just sleep in your own bed” he grins as he runs his hands through his messy blonde hair, this bitch knows exactly what he’s doing, you think to yourself.

despite a very obvious blush creeping up on your face you respond, “yeah well i’d feel bad if you had to stay on the couch” scoffing, faking offense to your comment “who said anything about me on the couch? plus i heard cuddling is good for hangovers.” OH HOW I HATE HIM. rolling your eyes you playfully act annoyed, but you couldn’t be any happier

“hm well i always wanted to cuddle with that dumbass from the volleyball team who i have a crush on” you retort with a light laugh. now it’s his turn to blush, already flushed from the alcohol he is now redder than before. “when exactly were you planning on tellling this handsome and talented dumbass?” despite the confident demeanor he was definitely screaming on the inside.

“i figured now would be a good time, but who said anything about handsome and talented.” you reply as you side eye him, but he just can’t help but smile right at you. “so we’re definitely cuddling right?” he asks with a heartful, genuine smile. not being able to deny this lover boy’s smile or even him in general, i mean you’ve liked him for months now, you roll your eyes and respond “ok fine i guess whatever, but find some clothes to change into and take a shower” you laugh as you playfully hit him on his shoulder.

“on it.” he gets up heading downstairs to see if any of his friends have extra clothes they can get him, and to of course tell them about his crush on you. “shit finally, it’s about time you told her you liked her, osamu you owe me $10 and some food” “ok fine suna whatever, but you owe me $5 since he did it while he was drunk.” yes these mfs placed bets on you guys confessing to each other.

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

[garoujo]

HOW THEY APOLOGISE AFTER AN ARGUMENT — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, fushiguro toji, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji + geto suguru

♱ warnings — none, sfw . f! leaning petnames used.

♱ note — this came 2 me so suddenly in the shower also everyone say hewo 2 toji <3 this is rly like how they make you feel better after an argument -not proof read-

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

you and satoru didn’t argue a lot but when you did he was always annoying, as much as he wanted to solve the issue you just always felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously — you knew that his more playful attitude was more a coping mechanism, and sometimes it worked to make you feel better — but not all the time.

you’re in the kitchen angrily washing some dishes when you hear a few knocks on the door followed by gojo’s all too familiar drawl, you’d left the room around half an hour ago and you know he was probably giving you time to calm down before he made his move. “there’s my sweet girl. y’okay?” he hums, and although his tone carries a softer undercurrent than it usually does — you still refuse to turn to face him when you hear him begin to approach you. “the silent treatment, huh? you’re gonna break my heart.”

gojo’s words are accompanied by his arms wrapping loosely around your waist, pulling you into his chest as his chin rests along the dip of your shoulder from behind — occasionally inching closer to the crook of your neck until you finally speak to him. “what do you want?” you ask sharply and you hear the snowy haired sorcerer hiss like you’ve burned him before he’s pressing a short kiss against your neck and gently turning you in his hold — your soapy hands and all as he gives you a fond sort of look when your narrowed gaze meets his.

“y’know i hate when you’re mad, princess.” gojo groans, lips almost jutting out into a pout just so he can see the whisper of a smile that’s threatening to curl at the corners of your lips. “hey.. i’m sorry. jus’ talk to me.” his words are earnest and accompanied by one of his large palms smoothing along your waist to squeeze the skin affectionately, the other resting against your cheek before he’s following the touch with a lingering kiss against your temple and a slow grin. “you’re so annoying, ‘toru.” you huff, but you allow yourself to lean into his touch before he’s pulling away to let his smile tug even wider. “oh? but something tells me you love it, sweet thing.”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO TOJI

he was never exactly one to beat around the bush, during arguments he was always blunt and straight to the point — it’s what you’d expect from him his natural dominance and sharp edges, but that doesn’t mean he liked arguing with you. toji would be lying if he said he hated when you were mad at him.

it’s quiet when toji walks into the living room, casting you a glance as you sit with your arms folded over your chest at the very edge of the sofa knowing he’s going to sit on the other side. you can feel the way his gaze is narrowed on you, but you make a show of not meeting it when he lets his heavy body fall onto the cushions at the other side — lazily grabbing the tv remote to flick through the channels aimlessly before he speaks.

“you still pissed?” toji asks, his voice a low drawl and you can tell by the speed the tv screen is changing he’s not paying attention to it. “what do you think?” you bite, earning yourself a click of the tongue from the dark haired male at the end of the couch before you’re turning to send him a frown. “come on now. don’t gimme that look, sweetheart.” and you hate the effect his words seem to have on you despite how mean he can be, letting your eyes roll before you’re snapping back. “i’m not sending you any sort of look.”

but toji truly does hate when you’re mad at him, throwing the tv remote back onto the armrest of the couch before he’s reaching over to wrap his fingers gently around your ankle, pulling you across the cushions and into his side instead with a groan. “like hell you ain’t. cmeer.” you could try kick him off but he’s stronger than you, and there was still a certain comfort you felt when he let your thighs rest over his own — his calloused palms smoothing along your calves like he’s trying to make you feel better, the only way he really knows how as his other hand props his head up. “sorry for pissin’ you off, so quit that shit, alright?”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it was unlikely for you and megumi to argue, it was normally petty and probably could be easy avoided but he wasn’t too good at sugar coating his words and could be a little blunt. although he was always fast to pick up on whether or not something was wrong with you — especially if he’s the reason.

you’re wrapped up in a blanket in the bedroom, following an argument with megumi that although was mostly resolved, you still felt a little hurt and vulnerable after regardless and needed some time to calm down. he respects that, so it’s around 20 minutes later when you hear the first few knocks on your bedroom door followed by a soft “im coming in.” before your boyfriend is awkwardly shuffling in to stand in the doorway.

you can tell he’s still a little uncomfortable from the argument, treading with caution as he swallows heavily and begins to ask you questions that you know he knows the answer to — but it’s the only thing he can think of so you’ll talk to him. “hey.. uh, do you know where i put my jacket?” megumi grunts, avoiding your gaze as he begins to fiddle around with random brushes and things scattered around the desk at the corner of the room. “in the doorway where you left it maybe?” you reply sharply and your answer makes him scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck before he’s clearing his throat and trying again.

“thanks. uh.. if you’re cold, the living room is warmer. we can watch a movie, i mean if you want.” megumi mumbles, gesturing to the blanket you have wrapped around your shoulders, and watching him shuffle around with a random hairbrush in his hands makes you melt a little before you’re letting yourself get up and approach him. “that sounds nice.” you sigh and you almost see his lips upturn softly when he looks at you. “i’m sorry again, about earlier. i don’t like not talking to you.”

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

it was extremely rare for you and yuuji to get into arguments, it normally involved you having to take a few moments to yourself to calm down just to stop yourself being mean. he truly didn’t ever want to make you upset, but sometimes he just didn’t know what he did to make you mad.

itadori is still in the exact same spot you left him when you walk back into the room, watching him stand up from his place on the couch before he’s approaching you — a little more hesitant than usual but you can tell he’s trying to respect your feelings. “i’m sorry, are you still mad?” he asks honestly, his eyes are wide and his lips are jutted out ever so slightly and you can’t deny that the sight of him looking so upset about you being upset makes you feel warm.

“i feel a little better.” you huff, meeting his gaze with your own before your features soften at the way his seem to brighten with your words. “can we talk again, baby? i don’t like when you’re mad.” itadori’s words are slightly muffled through his subtle pout but the way his hands gently rest on your hips is so familiar that you can’t help but melt back into him, already feeling any irritation leave when you gives you a few moments to push him away before pulling you in for a hug completely.

“do you need anything? i can make it up to you.” his words are louder now, a little happier before he’s smearing a short kiss against your cheek through a smile, pulling away to meet your gaze once more afterwards. “just this is fine, yuuji.” and the next squeeze of his arms around your waist makes you wrap your own around his shoulders before he’s pulling you to press his lips against yours. “i’ll be better, baby. i promise.”

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

geto was a big believer in just talking about whatever was on your mind, although sometimes you couldn’t help but be annoyed for petty reasons and didn’t feel like trying to explain it. but he always picked up on it quickly, his eyes narrowed on your figure as you let every silence between you both linger a little too long.

you can feel geto’s gaze burning through your figure from across the room, his arms crossed as he leans against the kitchen counter and watches the way you’re deliberately ignoring him. he waits until you go to walk past him, running an exasperated hand over his face before he’s gently wrapping an arm around your figure and curling you closer to him. “you’re still mad at me.” he grunts, finger pinching softly at your jaw just so he can make your gaze meet his because he can tell you’re trying to avoid it.

“am not.” you huff, pouty lips jutting out as you try to wriggle out of his hold but it only makes him hold you tighter. “think i can’t tell when my princess is mad? hey, talk to me.” geto’s voice is smooth and it’s a tone that makes you feel at ease when he finally manages to get your gaze to lock with him, a crooked but soft smile on his lips that makes all of the tangled thoughts in your head suddenly feel as straight forward as ever, and that makes you huff at how ridiculous you feel now even after the issue is resolved.

“i’m just being petty.” you finally admit and you feel geto physically relax into you before he’s huffing out a laugh and pressing a quick kiss against your lips. “i’m sorry again ‘bout earlier, baby. you sure you’re good?” he’s asking again just to be sure and you know that if something really was wrong he’d listen, you can tell by the gentleness in his touch and the fondness that still pools in his eyes. “everything is fine, sugu. promise!”

© 2022 garoujo. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Jake Kim x Reader: Cinema

G/N. Soft and fluffy feat Big Deal a lil.

 "You on a date, boss?"

Jake says yes without missing a beat, flashing you a grin and snaking his arm around your waist.

He sees the smirk on Jason's face, the light nudge Lineman gives Brad, and the pride and approval on Jerry's face.

The grin soon melts away though, when Brad follows up with "You going to see Rocky XX too?" and Jake only just manages to hide his grimace.

The answer to that is also yes. But he would prefer to not have a date crashed by the rest of the crew.

Heavens above, you're patient enough with Big Deal and so sweet to everyone. Gotten to know the street and the occupants like the back of your hand, spending more evenings and weekends there than not. 

However. Even with how much Jake lives and breathes Big Deal, he misses some one on one time with you.

Away from everyone, he thinks as he takes in the sight of his boys in front of him. He can't exactly tell them to go away though, can he? A rare weekend off work where they get to just be.

He succumbs to his fate. 

Imagines everyone huddled on the one row together. Seated next to each other. Cosy. A family affair instead of a romantic date. Probably won't be able to sneak you some kisses here and there-

"We're not seeing Rocky!" comes the unmistakable sound of Lua's voice. "We're going to watch The Boy and The Pigeon! Enjoy your film!"

She disappears as quickly as she arrives. A whirlwind of hair and a force of nature. Giving you both a small wave, mind laser focused on reading the goddamn room and shoving the boys towards a different screen.

"B-but we already got the tickets!"

"I wanted to see Rocky XX!"

"Why does Jake think seeing Rocky is romantic anyway?!"

Why?

To be honest, the Rocky franchise died off somewhere along V. Who knows how the hell these films are still being greenlit. Nevertheless, the newest one is a low stakes film where Jake doesn't care what happens apart from you cuddling up to him and some kisses if he's lucky.

It's calculated and planned and Jake mentally pats himself on the back for how things have turned out.

Except-

What he didn't expect was the score to be good, the script to be great, the choreography to be amazing, and the acting to be even better. Neither of you could take your eyes off the screen. You laughed and cried and gasped together. 

Thoughts of cuddling and kissing and even making out completely out the window as you're both on the edge of your seat for the entire two hours.

It was fantastic. Perhaps the best movie he has ever seen (and he could practice some of those moves too).

You're both still talking about it as he walks you home-

"When he came back as a zombie to fight that vampire?"

"And the lizard joins the fight to win the title?" Jake chuckles, at your enthusiasm more than anything else, "Yeah. I liked that."

But as your apartment appears on the horizon, he can't help but think that maybe this was a bit of a waste. That the day is over and as good as the film was, maybe he should have arranged something else, after all it’s been a while since both your schedules have aligned.  A date where you can actually talk and be in each other's company. Instead of being captivated by the screen, your attention could have been held by him.

Jake tries to shake off the doubts and recapture the lighter mood from seconds ago.

He's not entirely successful.

You realise something is amiss.

You peer over at your boyfriend. His sudden subduedness. The small line forming between his eyebrows that you hate so much, because it means he's unhappy about something. You pause mid step and he stops alongside you.

"Don’t overthink it. I had fun," you tell him. You always have fun with him. "Thank you."

Jake's smile returns when he sees the expectant look in your eyes. The way you stretch up towards him. press yourself into his space, and he leans down; meeting you halfway.

Your lips lightly press to his, eyes closing, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks and his own falling shut. Strong arms encircle you, pulling you ever closer, deepening the contact.

There'll be a next time, your kiss reassures him.

You tastes like popcorn. Sugar and butter and salt. Sweet and savoury and perfect.

[babyleostuff]

the grudge | jeon wonwoo

based on "the grudge" by Olivia Rodrigo (would highly recommend listening to it while reading)

genre | angst word count | 2.1k

author's note | i'm in love with GUTS (but she also broke my heart with this album) -> PART 2

I have nightmares each week 'bout that Friday in May One phone call from you and my entire world was changed Trust that you betrayed, confusion that still lingers Took everything I loved and crushed it in between your fingers

“I’m sorry. It wouldn’t have worked out either way.”

These were the last words you heard from the love of your life. 

Over the phone. 

You were supposed to have a date that day. He just came home from his schedules overseas, and you couldn’t wait to see him again. To hug him. To kiss him.  

It was a perfectly sunny day, kids were running freely around their neighbourhoods, happy about the upcoming weekend, and you were just as happy as them, getting ready with a childlike smile, probably putting too much effort in your appearance - you even put on the dress he bought you for your birthday, just to see his pleased smile. 

The picnic basket you prepared stood ready at your kitchen counter, filled with Wonwoo’s favourtie snacks and the wine you’d always drink on your stay-at-home nights. You were in the middle of rummaging through your room to find a blanket, when you heard a familiar noise of your ringing phone. 

With a grin on your face and a beating heart, you almost ran to the kitchen, hoping to see Wonwoo’s picture on the screen. And you did. 

What you didn’t know was that that phone call would crush your entire world in seconds. 

“Hey, baby. Are you ready? I can pick you up if you want,” One could tell how happy and excited you were by your voice only. 

“About that,” you never heard his voice being so monotone and… cold. 

Something was wrong, and you couldn’t help the way your hands started to tremble in anticipation of what was about to happen. 

It took exactly two minutes for Wonwoo to turn your happy day to one of the worst in your life. The confusion as the line went silent clouded your mind, your brain simply didn’t want to let you believe in what you’d just heard. 

It was a joke, right? He’d call you in a second to laugh about how he lost a bet to Mingyu, and that it was just an unfunny joke. Right? 

But as you stood there, in the middle of your kitchen, with your phone tightly clutched in your hand, there were no calls, no messages. Nothing. 

Your gaze lingered on the basket, and now, when you looked at it, it almost mocked you - seemingly laughing at how pathetic you were. 

Just like that, Wonwoo took everything you loved and crushed it in between his fingers. 

And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

The next few days felt like you were living in a daze. You’d wake up and the first thing you’d do was to reach to the other side of the bed, expecting a familiar body laying there, which you’d cuddle up to - like you did every morning. 

“Wonwoo, I’m cold,” you muttered, your mind still asleep. But as you touched the pillow placed next to you, the bubble popped and you were brought back to reality. 

The reality where Wonwoo wasn’t by your side. 

“Five more minutes baby,” those were the words you’d never hear again. That’s when the silent tears would start to fall, dropping onto the empty cold pillow, and the thought of why? Why did he leave? 

Every morning you’d spend on thinking how the hell did all of this happen? When did he become so unhappy to break up with you over a single phone call? Was he that miserable? 

But the more you tried to find an answer the more unclear it all became to you, was it really that easy for him to end things with you? And it all made you want to scream - scream out of pain, out of frustration, out of the powerlessness you felt. 

You tried to go about your day as usual because maybe finding a routine in your new reality would help you heal your broken heart, but with every step you took, your mind reminded you that the one thing you looked forward to the most was gone. When you thought you’d finally taken one step forward, your thoughts brought you three steps back. 

“Here baby, let me,” you laughed, taking the wooden spoon from Wonwoo before he’d burn the eggs completely. “I think I should stick to making breakfast, and you to giving me my reward kisses,” grinning at him as you took his place at the stove. 

“Yeah, I think that would be the best,” he smiled, placing a peck on your cheek, as his arms wrapped around your waist. 

Those mornings would never come back. 

The arguments that I've won against you in my head In the shower, in the car, and in the mirror before bed Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone, and I make you feel so guilty

“Would you stop acting like a child and tell me what’s wrong?” You can’t remember a time where you’d raise your voice at your boyfriend, but lately it felt like this was the only thing you were doing. Fighting. 

“You know I’m not the only one in the wrong here, so don’t act like a saint,” Wonwoo threw back, acting as annoyed as you. The situation was getting out of hand, but neither of you did anything to stop it, if anything, you only added more fuel to the fire. 

“I’m trying my best, Wonwoo. I never complain when you leave for tours or schedules, or when you come home at night, when you don’t even have the energy to say good night.” 

“You know that that’s not the only issue here, baby,” the endearment felt like poison coming out of his mouth like that. It hurt you more than anything else. 

“It’s not, but it seems like I’m the only one trying here. Do you really want to act like a dick and let our whole relationship go to waste just because you can’t get your shit together?”

That was probably how things would have gone if you had the chance to talk to him. But you didn’t. Wonwoo didn’t try to contact you again, not even through a message or a friend. 

“What did you expect though?” You thought to yourself. He broke up with you over the fucking phone, something you’d never expect to happen with him. 

You’d spend endless nights in the shower picturing how you would have screamed at him, finally letting out how hard it was for you too - how hard it was to fall asleep in a cold bed, how painful was it to see him only over the phone, how all of the unread text messages because he was too busy to read them broke your heart - you’d do all of that just to make him feel guilty, even a little bit. 

You felt like you could do anything under the hot steam of water, but the second you entered your bedroom all of your toughness faded away, and you were left alone in the room that held so many, now painful, memories. 

I try to be tough, I try to be mean But even after all this, you're still everything to me And I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine

It would be a lie to say you didn’t miss him. Every ounce of your soul and body craved for his touch, begged for a second of time to see even a small bit of his perfect face, crying out to be held by his strong arms. 

And it didn’t help that everything at home reminded you of him, bringing back the beautifully painful memories of all of the times you’d spend together. 

All of his clothes that he never came back for were still in your closet - the hoodies that would keep you warm on cold December nights, when you’d cuddle under a blanket together to watch a movie, his favourite snacks in your cabinet, that he’d always munch on while gaming, the books on your nightstand, which he would read to you on sleepless nights, his gentle voice unburdening you from all of your worries. 

But you couldn’t bring yourself to throw those stuff away. No matter how much looking at them hurt, you knew the second you’d throw them away you would break only more. 

You used to get so annoyed by the music that played in the background, as Wonwoo played Animal Crossing, staring at the small screen for hours, doing anything but focusing on you. Now you missed the goddamn sound, and you'd kill to have him next to you on your bed occupied by the cute animation of the game. 

You started to regret all of the times when you tried to persuade him to turn it off and do something with you instead, because yes, he didn’t pay direct attention to you, but he always had an arm thrown over your shoulder or one of his hands on your thigh, and he looked so adorable whenever he’d laugh. 

How pathetic would you be if you bought the game for yourself now? 

You realised that a lot of things that used to annoy you, you were missing now. Like his glasses that would always magically disappear. Wonwoo always forgot where he last placed them, and for some reason you’d always know where they were.

“What would you do without me, hm?” you laughed at his scrunched nose, as you placed his missing glasses on his nose, kissing it lightly. 

“I don’t know. Good thing I’ll have you forever then.” 

This felt like a dream now, like a distant memory that would never come back. 

Because it wouldn’t. 

As you sat down on the sofa under the blanket you used to share, you hesitantly, with a shaky finger clicked on the gallery app, opening another memory lane you weren’t sure you wanted to go down through.

As you scrolled through the album you made specifically for Wonwoo, past all of those months together, you couldn’t help but let out a broken cry. All of your dates, trips, family gatherings, parties - they were all there frozen in the photos, and every single one of them felt like an ice cold dagger to your heart, piercing it with a pain you’d never be able to describe. 

You looked so happy. Wonwoo looked so happy. 

You stopped at a picture that you could clearly remember taking. It was right after he came back from the States and you had one of your first dates after a while of being apart. 

Almost like that Friday in May when he left you. 

You decided to stay at home, to let him rest and get used to the time change, so you chose to play some video games that you always sucked at, but played nonetheless, because you knew how happy they made Wonwoo. You lost for the hundredth time and you couldn’t help but let out a whine out of frustration. 

“Are you happy? I lost again, this sucks!” you whined, throwing the controller on the table, before burying yourself in the blanket. 

“You almost had it baby, I promise you’ll win the next round,” he laughed, and reached for you under the blankets, caressing your back. 

“Mhm, sure,” you murmured angrily. You knew Wonwoo was smiling, and you were sure he was amused by your sulky behaviour, but that always meant one thing. 

“Will you feel better if I give you some kisses?” he asked, and giggled at the way your head immediately peaked up from under the blanket. “Yes, that will work, thank you very much.” 

But instead of leaning in as you anticipated, he lunged his body at you, caging you in a tight embrace of his strong arms and wide shoulders. At this point you both were a laughing mess, so you quickly reached for your phone and opened the camera. 

You stared at the photo now, with tears in your eyes and an empty heart. The way you were both smiling, so genuinely happy, made your heart clench with pain. His dark hair, that grew out enough to curl a bit at the ends, his glasses that slid down his nose, and his smile that you could stare at for days. 

You’ve lost all of it. 

It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet

You were sure that some day, in a distant future, you’d be able to forgive him, to look him straight in the eye and say “it’s okay, I forgive you.” and move on with a smile on your face. 

But you were not there yet. 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @eightlightstar @itza-meee @immabecreepin

[safination]

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch. Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight … so … Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay…hmmm…why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

 “I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “…I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well…well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again. There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh…okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs. You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door…One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know…uh…. You’ll  tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just…just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh…I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like…a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh…I…oh….,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit.  The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to… uh… hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind…just…,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is…it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.  

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner?  These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no…,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale…until, of course, Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “…okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear…” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you…until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I…I was busy…?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think….,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh….” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “…If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But…I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself.  Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear…um…okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“What the fuuuuck,.” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “…Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe…Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and…,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did…did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv…just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that…uh…Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you…,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No…it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go…Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two…Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you.  “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh…I…uh…sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything… Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel, and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “…Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But…you already ate.”

“Oh…I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof….Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So…tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al…I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “…Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys…”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“…Oh…yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors. (Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh…he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just… okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today— he always cooks. When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you…it’s something you don’t mind..

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah…there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of  his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t…You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if… “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I…It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes. “Sometimes…,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But…I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um…uh… well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be  washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And…I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful.

Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball. Tomight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on. “Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh…his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just…for…a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch. It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smirk. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offer me a partnership in death…This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand, one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because…It’s…I…,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But…well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something…please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner…,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life…if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

 The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh…uh…Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You…You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread, as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just…love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just…exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just…to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie…if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh…yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but…I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “…Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess.  Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “…That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until…until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes…I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh…Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute  if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh…oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it…but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today…Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 1| First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic?  But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

It’s like you’re my mirror.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Mi amor.” My love.

“Mami.” Mommy.

Word count: 1,002.

Masterlist.

Wanda had just gotten home from grocery shopping when she noticed her house was quiet. A little too quiet, considering Billy and Tommy were out from kindergarten early today.

But as she began to move about the kitchen putting away the groceries she thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe her wife and sons were upstairs in their room, watching a movie like they did every Tuesday on their early dismissal day.

As Wanda finished putting the last of groceries away and still not a peep was heard throughout the house she began heading upstairs to search the rooms.

Her first stop was Billy and Tommy’s room, thinking maybe the twins got bored of watching the film mid way like they always did and decided to come play with their toys instead, but as she checked the room it was completely spotless and empty. Letting her know they were probably still with you, so she made her way to your shared bedroom.

Wanda knocks softly on the door, pushing it open slowly and peeking her head in as to not disturb you and the boys from whatever she expected to see you watching, but the sight that greets her instead has her completely enamored.

There in front of her very own eyes were a sleeping Y/N, Billy and Tommy. Feeling her heart swell with happiness at the way her sons and wife were sleeping.

The three of them were laying on their left side, lips pouty, faces serene; not an ounce of worry on their features. Each hugging a pillow in the same way, as the trio also had a leg slightly bent.

Wanda quickly makes her way downstairs to retrieve her phone so she can snap a quick few photos to show you once you wake up to help diminish the fears that have been pestering you these past few weeks.

Fears over the possibility that your sons may never display some of your traits. Fears that your boys will never fully accept you because you are not their biological mother.

Smiling as she looks at the pictures, Wanda feels her heart swell at the prospect of easing your worries and decides to let you and the boys continue on napping while she gets started on a late lunch.

Humming to herself as she moves around the kitchen making a quick light meal, she squeals in surprise when she feels arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind.

"Y/N!" Wanda exclaims, heart beating wildly in her chest, "you scared the hell out of me," she laughs, turning in your arms, taking in the sight of your disheveled hair and slightly sleepy eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor, I tried calling you, but you were in your own world," you smile tenderly, your eyes closing as Wanda runs a hand through your hair to tame it.

"Did you nap okay?" The redhead asks softly.

"Mm-hmm," you hum contentedly, Wanda's ministrations causing you comfort, "but I missed you," you pout slightly, "sleeping without you is never fun, but I had great company so I can’t complain,” you wink. “The boys had an exciting day today. According to them, their school put on a little decathlon of sorts all the physical activity must have tired them out," you laugh softly, "both fell asleep during the first 5 minutes of the movie and seeing them sleep made me sleepy so I decided to nap as well, sorry I wasn't awake to help you put the groceries away," you apologize and Wanda shakes her head pressing light kisses to your lips.

"No need to worry my love, I know how stressful these past few weeks have been, I'm just glad you got some rest," your wife says, hands caressing your face softly and smile widening as she remembers the pictures she took while you were asleep, "also I want to show you something exciting that happened while you were sleeping," Wanda says, eyes shining bright with happiness.

"Aww man, what'd I miss?" You say with a small frown at the prospect of missing out on something cool.

Wanda laughs at your expression, "you're going to love this, trust me," she says as she begins to pull the pictures up, handing you her phone so you can see what she is so excited about, "here," the redhead says, biting her lip in anticipation.

As you hold the cellular device in your hand and inspect the image of you and the twins mirroring each other while asleep, you can't help but let out a watery laugh, "oh my god babe," you whisper softly, "my boys, Max, they're really my boys," you chuckle, as you look at Wanda, tears pouring out of your eyes in happiness.

The redhead approaches you, hands cradling your face tenderly, "they are baby, they are your boys, and they love you so so much, it's clear to see. I mean they mirror you for crying out loud," Wanda laughs tearily, feeling her own emotions well up at the fact that you are so happy at this realization. "I have never doubted that they were yours my love, you may not have had them and biology be damned, but they are your sons, what more proof do we need baby?" Your wife says and you smile happily.

"I love you so much, Max. Thank you, thank you so much for giving me this beautiful gift. Mi amor, words will never be able to explain what this means to me," you smile tearfully, kissing Wanda softly.

As both you and your wife get lost in each other for a moment, a pair of voices interrupt your loving make out session, “mami!” Both you and Wanda hear exclaimed, making you pull apart with a small laugh.

“Your boys beckon you, my love,” your wife says with a beaming smile.

“My boys,” you say happily, placing a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips before you make your way to the stairs with a huge grin on your face.