#thank you all so much for still sticking around

[pucksandpower]

Wagification

Max Verstappen x analyst!Reader

Summary: your job was slowly crushing your soul and stealing your sanity … until Max showed you the pleasure to be found in letting yourself be cherished and cared for (or in which a chronically overworked Sky Sports analyst becomes a WAG)

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

You take a deep breath as you step out of the car, the Monaco sunshine bright and warm on your face. Max comes around and takes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You ready for this?” He asks, his eyes searching yours.

You nod, though your stomach is fluttering with nerves. It’s been nearly a year since you were last at a Grand Prix, and so much has changed. You glance down at the massive diamond on your left hand, still not quite used to seeing it there.

Max kisses your temple. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

Hand-in-hand, you make your way into the paddock. Immediately you’re assaulted by the familiar sights and sounds — mechanics yelling, engines revving, reporters gesturing to their cameras. It’s like you never left.

You keep your sunglasses on and your head down, hoping to avoid notice. The last thing you want is to be bombarded by your old coworkers. As a data analyst for Sky Sports F1, you knew everyone in the paddock. But you walked away from it all for Max and you aren’t sure what kind of reception awaits you now.

“Max! Max Verstappen!” You hear a female voice call out. You suppress a groan as you recognize it as belonging to Emma, one of the network’s top reporters. She hurries over, dictaphone in hand. “Max, can I get a quick interview for the pre-race show?”

“Sure,” Max says easily. He keeps holding your hand, drawing you forward. “Just make it quick, yeah?”

Emma nods, then seems to notice you for the first time. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m Emma Walsh, with Sky Sports.” She sticks her hand out with a friendly smile.

You hesitate a second before shaking her hand. “Y/N,” you say simply, not offering your last name.

Emma’s eyes widen behind her glasses and she leans in for a closer look. “Wait a minute, I know you ...” Her jaw drops open. “Y/N Y/L/N? Is that you?”

You give a little shrug. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh my god!” Emma practically shouts. “I can’t believe it! We all thought you fell off the face of the earth after you left Sky. What happened to you?”

Max slides an arm around your waist. “She fell for me,” he says with a grin.

Emma’s eyes bug out even more as she takes in your designer dress, heels, and rock on your finger. “You mean … you and Max ...”

You nod, feeling yourself blush. “About a year ago, yeah.”

“Wow.” Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “Just … wow. I mean, look at you! You look incredible!”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. Your style has certainly changed since your Sky Sports days of sensible pantsuits. As an analyst, you had lived in jeans, flats, and minimal makeup, your hair always pulled back in a simple ponytail. Now your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders, and you’re wearing a floaty floral maxi dress and strappy heels. You went from broadcasting racing stats to being a WAG almost overnight.

“Thanks,” you say, your cheeks growing even warmer. “It’s really good to see you, Emma.”

“You too!” She grins. “I have so many questions, but I better let you go for now. Don’t want to keep the championship leader waiting.” She winks at Max. “We’ll catch up later, yeah? Drinks tonight to celebrate your return?”

“Sure, sounds good.” You smile, thankful she’s not pressing for more details now. Emma waves and heads off in search of her next interview.

Max keeps his arm around you as you continue through the paddock. “See, that wasn’t so bad,” he murmurs.

You let out a shaky laugh. “One down, about a hundred more to go.”

Over the next hour you run into what feels like every person you used to work with. They all react with similar shock at the former paddock nerd turned glamorous girlfriend of the reigning four-time World Champion.

You chat briefly with Will, who stutters over his words and goes bright red when you say hello. He had the biggest crush on you back when you worked together. Sarah can’t stop gushing over your ring. Tom tells you how weird it is not to see you hunched over a laptop crunching numbers.

The encounters leave you feeling drained, but also relieved. Your old coworkers seem genuinely happy for you, not resentful like you had worried. They don’t pry too much into how exactly you went from reporting race stats to ending up with Max Verstappen. That’s a story for another time.

Eventually you make it to the Red Bull garage, where you let out a long breath. “Phew, I survived.”

Max grins and pulls you close. “You were amazing. And you look beautiful, as always.” He nuzzles your neck.

You smile and loop your arms around his shoulders. “Have I mentioned how happy I am whenever I’m with you?”

“Mmm, maybe once or twice.” Max kisses you softly. “But feel free to keep reminding me.”

“Ahem.” Christian Horner clears his throat from behind you. “If you two can pause the PDA for a moment, we have a race to focus on.”

You spring apart, blushing furiously at being caught by Max’s team principal. Max just laughs and slings an arm around your shoulders.

“Lighten up, Christian. I’m allowed to kiss my fiancée.”

Christian shakes his head, but he’s fighting a smile. “Indeed you are. But perhaps when there aren’t cameras around?” He nods over your shoulder.

You turn to see several photographers zooming in, no doubt dying to get shots of the paddock’s newest it couple. You bury your face in Max’s shoulder.

“Ugh, no privacy anywhere,” you grumble.

Max kisses your hair. “It’s not so bad. Just part of the deal when you’re with me, remember?”

You smile up at him. “Very true. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

The day passes in a blur of activity. Max has various sponsor obligations and media commitments. You stick close by his side, learning how to avoid the cameras and deflect the constant questions about your relationship. Being the center of attention still feels strange, but you’re getting better at handling it.

During Max’s autograph session, you chat with some of the other drivers’ girlfriends and wives. They give you tips on dealing with the madness. You’re touched by how kind and welcoming they are.

“It takes some getting used to,” Alex Albon’s girlfriend, Lily, says. “But once you figure out how to focus on what really matters, the rest just becomes background noise.”

You nod. Your priority is Max. Everything else is just part of the ride.

***

One Year Ago

You sink down onto a stack of tires behind the Red Bull motorhome, finally letting the tears fall. This weekend in Barcelona has been a nightmare so far. Your team at Sky Sports is chronically understaffed, so you’ve been working 18 hour days analyzing data and prepping stats graphics.

You’re exhausted, frustrated, and seriously questioning your career choices.

On top of that, you just found out that your coworker and boyfriend Jamie has been cheating on you for months with one of the new junior reporters. You feel like such an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

You just need a few minutes to yourself to cry it out before plastering a smile back on and soldiering through the rest of the weekend. You hear footsteps approaching and quickly dab at your eyes with your sleeve, but it’s too late.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to ...” The voice trails off awkwardly.

You glance up to see none other than Max Verstappen standing there, a look of concern on his face. Great. The last thing you need is Formula 1’s wunderkind catching you bawling behind the motorhome.

You scramble to your feet, trying to compose yourself. “Um, hi. No worries, I was just ...” You trail off, at a loss for how to explain.

Max steps closer, head tilted. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His kindness makes the tears threaten again. You stare down at your scuffed sneakers, embarrassed.

“I’m fine, really. Just had a bad day. You know how it goes.” You force a weak laugh.

Max doesn’t seem convinced. “Here, come sit for a minute,” he says gently, guiding you back over to the stack of tires.

To your surprise, he sits down next to you in his designer jeans and Red Bull Racing hoodie like it’s no big deal. You would laugh if you weren’t still fighting more tears.

“I’m Max, by the way.” He smiles and holds out his hand.

You shake it weakly. “Yeah, I know. I mean, uh, I’m Y/N.” You blush. Smooth.

Max either doesn’t notice or is too polite to comment. “So Y/N, what has you so upset? Boyfriend troubles?” He raises an eyebrow knowingly.

You let out a watery chuckle. “Yeah, something like that. The idiot’s been cheating on me it turns out.” Saying it out loud makes the hurt swell back up.

Max shakes his head angrily. “What a dick. I don’t understand guys who treat girls like that. You deserve so much better, Y/N.”

The genuine outrage on your behalf makes you smile a bit through the tears. “Thanks, Max. I appreciate that.”

He nods. “Any guy would be lucky to have a girl as pretty and smart as you. This loser doesn’t know what he’s lost.”

Now you really can’t help blushing. You’re used to being called a lot of things — nerdy, awkward, obsessive about stats — but no one’s ever called you pretty before. Especially not a kind, cute, and famous race car driver.

You dip your head, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously. “You’re very sweet to say that.”

Max bumps your shoulder with his. “Just calling it like I see it.”

You chat for a few more minutes about nothing in particular. Max is easy to talk to, and makes you laugh with funny stories about mishaps in the garage. By the time you hear your boss calling your name, you’ve almost forgotten about Jamie and your tear-stained face.

“Shit, I have to get back to work,” you say, standing quickly and grabbing your laptop bag. “Thanks for listening, Max. I really appreciate you taking the time.”

“Of course.” Max stands too, shoving his hands in his pockets. He seems reluctant to end the conversation. “Hey, maybe I’ll see you around again this weekend?”

You give him a curious look, wondering why he’d want to see you again after witnessing that mess of emotions. But he looks sincere. “Yeah, maybe! I’m around if you need any stats analysis or data work.” You tap your temple. “Numbers nerd, at your service.”

Max grins. “Good to know. Take care, Y/N.” With a little wave, he heads off, leaving you staring after him in surprise.

The rest of the day you keep replaying those moments with Max in your head, unable to focus. Why did he seem so interested in a frumpy data analyst having a meltdown? You can’t make sense of it.

By the time qualifying ends on Saturday, you’re practically dead on your feet. Your eyelids keep drooping as you pack up your equipment. Maybe you’ll just sleep under your desk tonight instead of walking all the way to the hotel.

“Long day, huh?”

You jerk awake to see Max leaning in the doorway of your makeshift office, thumbs hooked in his pockets. He looks annoyingly energetic and put together compared to your disheveled state.

“Uh, yeah.” You smooth your hair back,feeling self-conscious. Why does he have to catch you looking like such a mess yet again? “Just have about a million graphics to finish before tomorrow’s broadcast. The glamorous life of a data analyst,” you say wryly.

Max frowns. “They keep you here this late doing all the work yourself?”

You sigh, rubbing your grainy eyes beneath your glasses. “Unfortunately yes. We’re way understaffed, but it’s not like they’ll give us more budget to hire help.”

Max shakes his head. “That’s unacceptable. You deserve so much better than this.”

The kindness in his voice makes you suddenly emotional again. You bite your lip, willing yourself not to tear up at work twice in one day.

“Thanks, Max. I’ll be okay though, once I get some sleep ...” You know you don’t sound convincing.

Max appears to think for a moment, his brow furrowed. “You know what, enough of this. Come on.”

Before you can react, he takes your hand and gently tugs you to your feet.

“W-what? Where are we going?” You stammer, heartbeat quickening.

“We’re getting out of here. You’re clearly exhausted and need a break.” Max keeps hold of your hand as he leads you from the office.

“But-but my work … I have to finish-” Even as you protest, you let him continue pulling you along. A rebellious part of you is thrilled at this sudden adventure.

“It can wait. Right now, we’re getting some food and drinks in you so you actually have energy left for tomorrow.” Max winks at you as you exit the paddock into the cool night air. “Trust me.”

And despite barely knowing this man, you realize you do trust him. Max guides you around the corner to a lively tapas bar, chatting all the while about random topics to make you laugh. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.

Over shared plates of patatas bravas and fizzy cocktails, you find yourself opening up to Max in a way you never do with people you just met. But his kindness and openness make you feel comfortable. He tells you more about life as an F1 driver, the pressures and perks.

“It must be amazing getting to travel all over the world racing cars,” you muse after your second cocktail. “Like a dream.”

“Part of it is, yeah.” Max smiles wryly. “But it can also be lonely. Never really putting down roots anywhere. Hard to meet people outside the racing bubble, you know?”

You nod thoughtfully. Under the playboy racer exterior, it seems there’s a down-to-earth guy who just wants connection. On impulse, you cover his hand with yours and give it a squeeze.

“Well, you’ve got a friend here now if you ever need company at a race.”

Max turns his palm over to link his fingers through yours. “I was hoping you’d say that.” His smile is so warm and genuine, you feel your cheeks heat.

By the time you stumble back to your hotel, you’re laughing and chatting with Max like old friends. When you get to your door though, you blink blearily and sway on your feet — the long day and alcohol hitting you hard.

Max steadies you with a hand on your waist. “Whoa there. You gonna make it okay?”

You wave a hand drunkenly. “Oh yeah, totally fiiiine ...” Your balance wavers again. Okay, maybe not so fine.

Max bites his lip, seeming to have an internal debate. “Alright, slight change of plans. You’re in no state to be left alone right now.”

In one smooth motion he scoops you up bridal-style. You make a very dignified squeaking noise and clutch his shoulders.

“Max! What are you doing?”

“Making sure you’re safe for the night.” He grins down at you. “You can stay in my suite where I can keep an eye on you.”

“But … people will think ...” Even tipsy, you know spending the night in Max Verstappen’s hotel room is probably a bad idea.

“Let them think whatever. I’m being a gentleman, I promise.” The sincerity in his eyes melts your feeble protests. You really are in no state to be left alone.

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder. “Okay fine, you win. But just for tonight!”

Max chuckles, carrying you towards the elevator. “Deal. We’ll get you sobered up and rested for tomorrow.”

You have vague impressions of a plush suite, being tucked into cool satin sheets and handed water and pills for your headache. Max brushes hair off your face with a lingering touch. “Get some sleep, Y/N. I’m right next door if you need me.”

His kindness brings tears to your eyes again, but happy ones this time. As you drift off surrounded by his scent, you think dazedly that maybe this race weekend hasn’t been so terrible after all.

In the morning, waking up in Max Verstappen’s hotel bed, you at first think it was all some crazy dream. Then the smell of brewing coffee draws you out to the living room, where Max stands in the kitchenette.

“Morning! I ordered us some breakfast.” He hands you a mug, smiling softly.

Daylight streaming through the windows makes last night’s events seem even more surreal. You feel suddenly shy as memories return. A part of you wishes you could stay here in this peaceful bubble with him forever, away from the outside world.

But reality calls, as you both have jobs to return to. Max convinces you to eat some food and take more pain meds before he walks you back to your own room to shower and change.

At your door he pulls you into a gentle hug. “Take care of yourself today, okay Y/N? And if you need another break or company again, you know where to find me.” He presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead that sends tingles through your entire body.

Somehow you make it through the day fueled by Max’s kindness and the smallest hope this could lead to more. You catch sight of him striding through the paddock, fans clamoring for his attention. His eyes always seem to find you though, lighting up with that warm smile.

After the race, you’re back in your makeshift office trying not to fall asleep at your desk before the last minutes of broadcasts. When you walk outside into the golden hour sunset though, Max is waiting for you.

“So, ready for round two at the tapas place to celebrate my win?” He bumps your shoulder playfully.

You grin up at him, this beautiful boy who inexplicably wants to spend all his free moments with you. “Definitely. Bring on the croquetas.”

Laughing together, you start making your way there. And though you don’t know what this budding connection will lead to, you’re ready to find out.

***

Nine Months Ago

You snuggle deeper into Max’s arms with a contented sigh, resting your head on his chest. The lights are dim and music plays softly in the background of his hotel suite. Rain patters against the windows, making it the perfect night to get cozy indoors.

Being wrapped up with Max like this, away from the chaos of the race weekend, has become your favorite place to be over the past few months. After that impulsive first night in Barcelona when he took care of you, you started spending more and more time together.

What began as a supportive friendship soon turned into dates, kisses, and eventually becoming official boyfriend and girlfriend. You still can’t believe that Max Verstappen, Formula 1 superstar, wants to be with a plain data analyst like yourself. But from the way he looks at you — like you’re the most captivating person in the world — you don’t doubt his sincerity.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?” Max murmurs, trailing his fingers slowly up and down your arm.

You smile and nuzzle his neck. “Mmm, I think you mentioned it once or twice.”

His hands drift up to stroke your hair and you practically purr, eyes drifting shut. Max kisses the top of your head. “I mean it though, Y/N. Being with you makes me so happy.”

You lift your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “You make me happy too, Max. I-” You cut off with an enormous yawn that you fail to stifle in time.

Max chuckles. “Am I boring you over here?”

“No no,” you insist around another yawn. “I just can’t seem to keep my eyes open tonight.”

It’s true. As blissful as you feel cuddled up with Max, you’re utterly exhausted. This weekend has been nonstop work with little sleep. By the time you wrapped the Sky broadcasts up for the night, you could barely see straight.

Max brushes a strand of hair back from your face, his expression growing serious. “You’re completely worn out, schatje. I hate seeing you push yourself to the breaking point like this.”

You give him a tired smile. “It’s okay, really. I’m used to the long hours by now. Occupational hazard.” It comes out less convincingly than you intended.

Max’s frown deepens. He shifts around to face you, cradling your cheek in his palm. “But you shouldn’t have to be used to it, Y/N. Your bosses take advantage of your dedication. It’s not right.”

You bite your lip, not meeting his earnest gaze. Deep down you know he’s correct, but you don’t know what else to do. This career has been your life for years now.

Max gently turns your face back to his. “You deserve so much better. You keep giving everything to this job and they just keep demanding more. When’s the last time you took a real break?”

You look down, feeling the prickle of tears. You can’t even remember your last vacation or rest day. “It’s okay, really ...” you whisper half-heartedly.

“No, it’s not.” Max’s voice is firm but caring. He tips your chin up to meet his eyes. “I can’t stand seeing you being taken advantage of. It makes me want to take care of you properly, the way you should be.”

Your breath catches at the intensity in his gaze. Being taken care of and cherished so deeply is new for you. You don’t know how to respond.

Max seems to take your silence as uncertainty. “Just think about it, liefje. You could finally put yourself first and do what makes you happy instead of what makes Sky Sports happy.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Doesn’t a break to rest and recover sound nice?”

You close your eyes with a shaky exhale, admitting to yourself just how badly you need it. Your health and mental wellbeing have been steadily declining under the relentless stress.

“It really does sound nice,” you whisper. A few tears leak out beneath your lashes.

Max kisses them away tenderly, holding you close. “Shh I know, baby. You’re burning yourself out trying to do the impossible. Anyone would be exhausted.”

You cling to him, sniffling. “But it’s my job, my career. I can’t just walk away ...” Even as you say it, the prospect doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. Not if you get to have this, being wrapped in Max’s love and care.

“You can walk away from anything that’s making you suffer. You’re so much more than this job. And you’ll never have to worry or want for anything ever again.” His tone drips with promise.

You lean back to search his face. “What do you mean?”

Max smiles and brushes his nose against yours. “I mean, I’ll take care of you. If you leave your job to focus on yourself and our relationship, you will want for nothing. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your eyes go wide. “You mean … quit working altogether and just … be with you full time?”

Max nods, still smiling. “It can be that simple if you want. No more crazy hours and stress. Just let me spoil you and give you the life you deserve. What do you say?”

Your pulse races as you imagine it. No more coming home at 2 am and collapsing, living off vending machine snacks. Instead you could be leisurely mornings with Max, seeing the world together, doing activities you actually enjoy instead of endless stats analysis ...

It sounds idyllic. But could you really just stop working and let Max support you? Would people judge you for it?

As if reading your mind, Max says “Ignore whatever anyone else might think. This is about what’s right for you and makes you happy. I’m sure of this, Y/N. Please trust me.”

His eyes radiate so much love and certainty. Slowly you nod, feeling a weight lift from your chest.

“Okay,” you whisper. “If you’re sure then … I trust you, Max.”

Joy spreads across his face. He kisses you deeply, pouring all his feelings into it. When he finally pulls back you’re both breathless.

“You won’t regret this, schatje. I’m going to take such good care of you from now on.” Max strokes your hair, eyes shining. “No more exhaustion and stress. Just being together and enjoying life. It will be amazing.”

You truly believe it as you drift off, safe in his arms. No more pressure to single-handedly carry Sky Sports’ data analysis. From now on, you can just be his … and find yourself again.

The next day you take a deep breath and knock on your boss’ door. Within minutes, you’ve quit your job and ended a years long chapter. It feels bittersweet but right as you box up your belongings from your little makeshift office. This time when tears prick your eyes, they’re from overwhelming relief.

Max is waiting to pick you up, greeting you with a spinning hug and long kiss. “I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be so much happier and healthier from now on, I just know it.”

You hug him tight, burying your face in his neck. “I already feel lighter. This was the right choice.”

And it truly is. As you jet off to a tropical island just the two of you that weekend, it feels like a new life.

The days pass in a dreamy haze — sleeping in, long massages, breakfast in bed courtesy of Max, sunset walks on the beach holding hands. He delights in pampering you with gifts, gourmet meals, and your every whim met often before you even speak it.

“I could get used to this,” you sigh contentedly as you lounge together in a cabana, sipping fruity cocktails.

Max smiles and nuzzles your neck. “That’s the idea. You’ll never lift a finger except when you want to from now on.”

It amazes you how he transforms from fierce competitor on the track to this caring, protective boyfriend behind closed doors. He seems to find his greatest happiness in making sure you’re thoroughly spoiled.

You do occasionally think of the drastic shift your life has taken. But any flicker of doubt is erased by Max’s love and devotion. He’s given you freedom from exhaustion and anxiety. You’ve never felt more adored.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” you whisper one night as you sway together on the balcony under the stars, your silk robe fluttering around you.

Max gazes at you like you hold the secrets of the universe. “You just had to be yourself, schatje. That’s all I’ll ever need.”

He takes your breath away with slow, passionate kisses until you meltingly agree to take things inside. Your first time together is everything you imagined and more.

Afterwards, lying entwined with Max stroking your hair, you have never felt more whole. You found in each other what you needed most — care, understanding, and unwavering love.

This blissful new life together has only just begun.

***

A Few Hours Ago

You hum to yourself as you flip through the designer outfits in your massive walk-in closet, selecting options for the upcoming race. This will be your first time attending a Grand Prix on Max’s arm and you want to look perfect.

As you sift through rows of Chanel, Dior, Valentino, and Prada, you feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around your waist.

“Need any help choosing?” Max asks, nuzzling your neck.

You lean back into him with a smile. “I was just trying to narrow it down. I want to look nice for your big weekend.”

Max turns you in his arms, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “Schatje, you could show up in sweatpants and you’d still be the most beautiful woman there.”

You scrunch your nose. “But it’s Monaco! I need to look at least semi put-together.”

“It’s impossible for you to look anything but,” Max declares, stealing a quick kiss. “You always look perfect to me.”

You swat his chest but can’t help grinning. His constant compliments and admiration still give you flutters even after months together.

Taking your hand, Max comes to stand before the endless clothing options. “Okay, let’s see what we’re working with here.”

You pull out two of your favorites: a sleek black Balmain jumpsuit with a deep neckline and waist cutouts, and a shimmering floral Givenchy maxi dress.

“Ooh, these are both amazing,” Max says, fingering the luxe fabrics. “That jumpsuit would show off your sexy legs, but this fabric is so pretty with your skin tone ...”

You chew your bottom lip thoughtfully. “I’m torn too. What’s your vote?”

Max pretends to scrutinize them closely before breaking into a smile. “Well you know I love you in anything. Or nothing,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes and swat him with a hanger. “Behave! I need actual fashion advice please.”

“Okay okay.” Max puts on an exaggerated serious expression. “The Givenchy dress is very classy and princess-like. But I love the way this Balmain hugs your curves.” To demonstrate, he traces a hand along the waist and down your side.

You shiver pleasantly at his touch. “Mmm, good point ...”

Max leans in close behind you, hands resting on your hips. “Imagine me peeling it off of you after my win.” He presses a kiss below your ear.

You melt back into him, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck. “Well when you put it that way ...”

“The dress would be pretty easy access too though.” Max slides his hands under the fabric across your thighs teasingly.

You gasp and swat him away again, laughing. “Okay stop distracting me! I really do need to pick.”

Max relents with a grin, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, you win. I officially vote for the dress. It’s sexy yet elegant, just like you.”

You smile and give him a peck on the lips. “Now, what about bags and shoes?”

You move through your endless options as Max offers his input. He has a surprising eye for fashion despite his own relaxed, sporty style.

“This one matches the best.” He selects a sleek black crocodile Birkin. “Classy and understated.”

You turn the bag over in your hands. “Ooh I forgot I had this one. Good call!”

After picking strappy heels to complete the look, you start browsing your jewelry selection.

“That’s a lot of shiny stuff,” Max remarks, eyes roving over the boxes of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and more.

You arch an eyebrow. “Says the one who got carried away with the jewelry purchases ...”

Max just grins and pulls you close. “I want you to have it all. You deserve to be spoiled.” He captures your lips in a sweet kiss.

You hum happily against his mouth before pulling back. “Will you help me pick something?”

“Hmm let’s see ...” Max peruses the options before selecting an elegant diamond necklace. “Yeah, this one is perfect. Really complements the dress.”

He fastens it carefully around your neck, meeting your eyes in the mirror with a smile. His gaze trails down your body as you model the full outfit together.

“You look absolutely incredible, liefje. Every man in Monaco will be drooling over you.”

You turn to wrap your arms around his shoulders. “Well I only care about impressing one man.” You kiss the tip of his nose.

Max’s hands find your waist again, warm on your exposed skin. “Oh trust me, I am very impressed. And the second we’re alone after the race this outfit will be on the floor.”

You laugh as he nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly. Somehow, you manage to fall more in love with Max every day.

You eventually disentangle, needing to actually get ready for the day ahead.

“What should I wear in the meantime?” You muse, fingers drifting over the designer options.

Before you can choose, Max comes up behind you and starts guiding a silk robe onto your shoulders.

“How about nothing at all? I’m enjoying this view already,” he murmurs against your skin as he wraps the sash loosely around your waist.

You lean back into him with a hum of pleasure. “Well if you insist ...”

Max takes your hand and leads you to the bed, laying you back against the pillows. He undoes the robe just enough to expose your body as he trails kisses everywhere. “Mmm yes, this is much better than any outfit.”

You run your fingers through his hair, arching into his touch. “What happened to getting ready for the race?” You breathe.

Max pauses his kisses just below your navel to flash a wicked grin up at you. “Race day can wait for a few more minutes. Right now I want to appreciate my gorgeous girl.”

You have zero arguments with that logic. With a happy sigh, you surrender to his skilled and eager mouth, letting all other concerns fade away. Everything else will have its turn — being worshiped by Max is the only thing on your schedule this morning.

Eventually though, you manage to dress and make your way to the circuit. As you ride through the streets together on the way, Max keeps an arm curled tightly around you.

“You know, despite the fancy clothes and jewelry, you’re still the same humble, kind-hearted woman I fell for,” Max says, kissing your temple. “All that other stuff just enhances your inner beauty.”

You smile and squeeze his hand as you lift your lips to meet his. “You always know just what to say.”

You keep your chin up and shoulders back as you step onto the harborside track that will soon be swarming with VIPs. With Max by your side, you have everything you need — now and always.

***

Monaco Grand Prix, 2025

The cheers of the crowd echo in your ears as you watch Max pass the chequered flag, securing his win. Your heart swells with pride and love as he pulls the car over to parc fermé and hops out, immediately searching for you on the other side of the barriers.

The second his eyes land on yours, his face lights up with that smile that melts you every time. He’s barely stepped out of the car before you launch yourself into his arms.

“You did it! I’m so proud of you,” you breathlessly exclaim.

Max laughs and pulls you closer. “I’m just happy to win it for you, liefje.”

Still holding you against his chest, he claims your mouth in a fierce celebratory kiss as the team and cameras swarm around. Your world narrows to just the feeling of his lips on yours, his race suit damp with sweat under your palms.

When you finally break for air, foreheads touching, Max murmurs “I love you so much. This one was for you.”

Your answering smile feels brighter than the Monaco sunshine. “I love you too. You were incredible today.”

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a euphoric blur. Max keeps you tucked close to his side whenever he can, his arm firmly around your waist. He only has eyes for you despite the chaos surrounding him.

Finally escaping to the privacy of his driver’s room in the Red Bull motorhome, Max properly ravages you up against the door. The heady mix of victory and desire is intoxicating.

Much later, surrounded by empty champagne bottles with Max nuzzling lazy kisses across your bare shoulders, you hear a tentative knock.

“Decent?” Comes Emma’s teasing voice.

“Just a minute!” You call out, scrambling for your discarded dress.

Max pouts adorably as you wriggle back into it. “Do we have to go out? I’m enjoying having you all to myself ...”

You smile and kiss him sweetly. “Soon baby. But let’s celebrate with some friends first.”

Max sighs but nods, taking your hand as you go open the door. Emma’s eyebrows shoot up as she takes in your thoroughly debauched state, but she politely doesn’t comment.

“Y/N! There you are! Oh, and congrats on the win,” she says to Max before turning back to you. “We’re all heading to Jimmy’z for the afterparty. You have to come!”

You hesitate, glancing at Max. “Oh, actually we already have plans ...”

“Come on, it will be like old times! We can squeeze you both in, I’m sure,” Emma pleads. Your former colleagues are beckoned over — Tom, Will, Sarah, and others waving excitedly.

Their eager faces make you pause, but Max just chuckles and slides an arm around your waist. “No need for squeezing into crowded clubs. I’ve already reserved some VIP booths so we can party properly.” He winks down at you.

“Oh! Well in that case, we’ll see you there.” Emma looks impressed. The others chatter excitedly as they head off to get ready.

You grin up at Max, arms looped around his neck. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“Only the best for you, beautiful.” He kisses you softly before you head off hand-in-hand.

After making yourselves presentable again, you set out into the Monaco night. The Circuit de Monaco is still abuzz with energy, music and laughter pouring from every corner.

The line outside Jimmy’z stretches far down the block. But the bouncer immediately waves you through with a respectful “Mr. Verstappen, this way please.”

You exchange a smile with Max, who keeps you tucked close against his side. It still feels surreal being ushered into exclusive areas that once intimidated you. Now it’s your glamorous new normal.

“Y/N, you made it!” Emma jumps up and hugs you tight. She eyes your designer outfit and perfectly styled hair. “Damn, look at you! Got that WAG glow going on.”

You smooth your hands self-consciously over your dress. “Oh, thanks! Just trying to look the part, I guess.”

You chat and laugh with Emma and your former coworkers as music pulses around you. When the Go-Go dancer comes by with a tray of sparklers, you impulsively grab two, popping one in your mouth and handing the other to a wide-eyed Emma.

She fumbles to light hers, watching as you tilt your head back and laugh, little sparks showering your face.

“Girl, you are wild tonight!” Emma has to shout over the music. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

You just smile and rummage through your Birkin for lipstick to touch up, crossing and uncrossing your legs that sport sky-high Louboutins. Your time working 18 hour days hunched over a laptop feels like another lifetime.

Eventually needing a break from the noise, you head to the bar to refresh your drink. Emma joins you, peering at the menu.

“Damn, I can’t even pronounce half this stuff,” she laughs. “What are you thinking of getting?”

You scan the options. “Mmm, maybe the Dom Pérignon Rosé? Sounds nice.”

Emma shakes her head in disbelief. “You really have gone full glam. I don’t think I ever saw you drink anything but Heineken at the track.”

You scoff, “Well we didn’t exactly have champagne on offer in our part of the paddock.”

You smile politely as the bartender brings your drink over. Emma is still eyeing you curiously.

“What?” You ask, laughing under her scrutiny.

“Nothing, just ...” She waves a hand at you. “Look at you with the designer outfit, Birkin bag, $500 drinks … you’re a whole new woman!”

You take a sip of the bubbly pink liquid and just smile. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“No no, not at all!” Emma rushes to say. “You seem really happy. I’ve just never seen you like this before. You were always the practical, focused one. Now you look … fully embraced by the glitz.”

You lean against the bar, considering her words. She’s right — the old you never could’ve imagined fully embracing this lifestyle. But now you can’t imagine anything else.

“I am happier than I’ve ever been,” you tell her honestly. “With Max I’m free to enjoy life and not worry about anything. He takes care of it all.”

Emma raises her eyebrows. “So he just … pays for everything, and you live this champagne lifestyle together?”

You smile, fingering the enormous diamond on your left hand. “Basically, yes. And it’s as amazing as it sounds. I’ll never need to work or stress over bills or anything again.”

“Huh.” Emma takes a thoughtful sip of her own drink. “Don’t you ever miss the thrill of data crunching and racing strategy though?”

You consider it for a moment. The thought of long hours analyzing race stats and performance metrics makes your brain hurt.

“You know … I really don’t,” you realize. “I can barely even remember the programs and systems we used. And I like it that way.”

Emma nods slowly. You can tell she’s making an effort to be open-minded about your new life. Before she can respond, you feel the presence of someone behind you.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Max murmurs, sliding his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck. “This party is nowhere near as fun without you.”

You lean back into him happily. His passion and desire for you still give you the same flutters as that first night together in Barcelona. You doubt that will ever change.

Turning in his arms, you accept the kiss he gives you, not caring that Emma is still standing there. Let her see how crazy you are for each other.

When you pull back, Max smiles down at you like you’re the only person in the crowded club. “Dance with me?” He extends a hand, already gently pulling you towards the dancefloor.

You let him lead you away without a backwards glance. Emma can think what she wants, but she can’t possibly understand your relationship with Max. You know this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

Max hands you a fresh glass of champagne and keeps an arm curled around your waist as you sway together. The music and alcohol fill you with euphoria.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Max murmurs in your ear, his breath hot on your skin.

You smile up at him coyly. “Feel free to keep reminding me.”

Max’s answering grin is sinful. His hands travel your body as you move together. “I plan to show you later just how irresistible I find you.”

The night flies by in a blur of dancing, drinks, and stolen kisses in the shadows with Max. Your former colleagues party into the early morning, but eventually stumble back to their hotels.

You and Max retreat back to your shared apartment just as dawn breaks over the horizon. As promised, your dress hits the floor immediately. He ravages you with hungry kisses, urging you higher and higher until you cry out his name again and again.

After, wrapped securely in his arms, you sigh in utter contentment. The smooth sheets feel divine against your skin and Max gently strokes your hair as you doze against his chest.

“So I take it you had fun?” He asks, a smile in his voice.

You lift your head to grin at him. “It was amazing. Although ...” You bite your lip coyly.

Max raises an eyebrow. “Although what, schatje?”

“Well, this part is still my favorite.” You punctuate your point by straddling his waist again, bending to kiss him deeply.

Max groans appreciatively against your mouth, hands grasping your hips. “Mmm mine too. In fact, I don’t think we’re done celebrating yet ...”

Your lips part in ecstasy and your nails rake down his back as he takes you right to the edge again and again. Finally collapsing in a tangle of sweaty limbs, you’re both completely spent and blissful. You curl into Max’s side, eyes drifting shut.

“I love you so much,” you murmur, the words slurring together.

Max kisses your hair, stroking your back. “I love you too, Y/N. Being with you is a dream.”

You slip into peaceful dreams still wrapped in each other. The glitz and glamour of F1 life is fun, but nothing compares to the private world you share with Max.

You’ll face the crowds and cameras again soon. But right now, lost in Max’s embrace, you have everything you need.

[safination]

The Wrong Competitor

|Masterlist| Ao3| Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader. Platonic! Vox & Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, , Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, being a simp for your partner, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor, drinking ,flirting

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. There are two drinks secured around one hand. The other reaches out for a handshake. Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier. “Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shame to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively and the food and drinks are delicious.” Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask as he sees you reaching out. Well, that won’t do. He takes the handshake intended for you, shaking Vox’s hand with a firmer grip than needed. You’re determined to enjoy yourself and Alastor prides himself on being a husband. So, he won’t cause a scene—not today at least. The handshakes last longer than handshakes should last. Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips. You tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning to his bicep to hide your scowl. TLDR: The Hazbin Hotel decides to hold a masquerade party. Despite his better judgment, Alastor invites his wife even if he’s aware of Vox’s attendance, who’s keen on competing with Alastor for his wife’s attention….If only Alastor knew how much you and Vox would gag at the idea of him flirting with you. It’s not his wife’s attention that Vox competes for. It’s not even Alastor who he’s competing with. Actually… Alastor isn’t part of the competition.

Have a little brainrot of mine. Lol just pure on crack of the silliest shit. Tell me what you guys think because I found this so fucking hilarious that I had to write it down. Anyway, have my heavily unedited brain rot. I tried a different writing voice today instead of my usual third person-second person pronoun pov, and tried like an all around pov. Update: *6/19/2024 We lost electricity at home so instead of studying, I decided to polish my un-polished crack. Everything's the same, it's just written better and I didn't add much.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor slithers out of the shadows below, stepping out from the darkness that pools underneath you. There are hundreds  of shadows to pop out of, still it’s your shadow that Alastor chooses to spring out from. There’s a smile painting his lips as he materializes. A deer mask covers half his face.

“Goodness,” you say, mirroring his smile. “What am I supposed to do when strange yet handsome Sinners pop out of my shadow without a warning.”

Alastor steps further into the light. “Handsome?”

And oh…oh.

(Oh, indeed. Alastor is wearing a tail-coat, a vest hidden underneath. Oh god he’s wearing a vest. One side of his hair slick back, allowing stray strands to flutter around the deer mask. When you run your hand across his biceps…you feel it underneath your touch—Sleeves garters.)

The smile on your lips widens, and you’re thankful that a mask covers your own face. “I’d call you handsome any day, sweetheart,” you tell him. “If it’s alright with your wife, of course. Such a charming little thing like you surely belongs to someone.”

“I think I like you better than my wife.” Alastor inches closer to press a kiss. “She never compliments me as much as you do.”

A delighted humm escapes you. “Then she’s quite the fool, for you are quite the charmer.”

Alastor shakes his head, a small laugh escaping as he smoothens some feathers that stick out your head. “You didn’t have to join me tonight,” he says. “I’ll be too busy with work to be next to you.”

“Then you should have thought about that before you gave me an invitation to Charlie’s party.” You reach out to smoothen the lines of his tail-coat, pulling on it to adjust its fit around his body. “And I’m already here, wearing a very, very, expensive dress.”

“Do you even enjoy such parties?” Alastor grabs your wrists before your hands can trail any further. “It seems your mind would rather be somewhere else.”

“There’s food and music, and I get the excuse to wear such a lovely dress.” You pull your wrist from his hold, catching his hand to intertwining your fingers with his. “Do you like it? I hope you do, considering I received it along with the invitation.”

Alastor lifts his arm, twirling you underneath to flare the skirt of the dress. “You look almost as dashing as I do.”

“Ha! And that’s precisely why I must join you, deerest.” You smack his bicep in good fun, barking out a laugh. Dear god, he’s wearing the leather sleeve garter tonight.) “With such dashing good looks, I’l fear others may try to take your attention.”

He flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

Alastor slips off the deer mask, gazing straight into you. Those eyes of his shine brighter than the stars above this Hell. He reaches out, and pulls on the ribbon that secures your own mask to your face.

There are feathers on your mask. It mimics the bird you are. Alastor inches closer, staring straight into you once there’s nothing to obstruct his view.

“That’s mine,” you say, trying to grab your mask.

Alastor shoves the deer mask on your face. The force causes you to stumble back a little. He’s such a nuisance, honestly…but …but well, his fingers brush over your feathers as he ties the ribbon on his mask. 

Strands of your feathers flow between his fingers as it lingers. Alastor presses the feathers to his mouth, brushing them with his lips. “I think our masks are a bit too on the nose,” he says, and each word caresses your feathers. “Deer masks suit you much better, and this way, I can spot you from even across the room.”

Alastor inches lower until you meet his eyes. You take the bird mask and tie the ribbon around his head, securing it on him.

There’s a feather that sticks out your head. Alastor picks it out. The stray feather gets waved around until he tucks it within the mask.

You reach out to remove the feather, but Alastor catches your wrist and presses a single kiss on the inside.

“The color of my feathers are different from the ones on the mask,” you tell him. “Come on, take it out. It sticks out a bit too much.”

“I’ll have you know that I quite like the feathers.” Alastor plays with the feather on his mask. “More importantly—tell me about your day. I want to know every second of every minute…it’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”

“You would know all about my day if you were living at our home with me,” you tell him, crossing your arms. “You know, the home that we’ve built together for the past few decades?”

Alastor plays with the edges of your pinky before intertwining his fingers around your hand. “Or…” he begins, and presses a single kiss on the wedding ring around your finger. “I would known if you lived at the hotel…with me.”

There’s a smug smile on you. “Are you asking me to live with you?”

“Would you?”

“I would.”

“I’m still rather hesitant to involve you with the hotel…yet I found myself sending an invitation anyway.” Alastor presses a kiss on the edge of your lips, letting himself linger. 

“An invitation?”you say, faking a gasp. “That’s weird because I swore the invitation came with a dress as well. Hmmm, now I’m wondering who sent such a piece to me.”

“I found myself sending an invitation…and a dress.” Alastor rolls his eyes. “But the point still stands, it’s safer if you are at our home. It’s quiet and secure and doesn’t have a giant sign pointing straight at its door.”

“Ah yes…that,” you say. “I heard about it on the televisi—newspaper. It must be tiring to be attacked thrice in one day.”

Alastor shakes his head, pulling you into a tight hug. One hand presses on the back of your head, cradling you gently. “Just before I lose you to my job.”

You steal a kiss from him. “As if you could ever lose me.”

Music beats through the cracks of the Hazbin Hotel’s door. Alastor escorts you inside, a bird mask on his face as he runs his thumb up and down the skin of your hand. You adjust the deer mask on your face before following him deeper inside.

The door opens easily, and you walk inside, arm in arm with the Radio Demon. The fun about masquerade balls is being able to hide behind a mask.

 Except from those who really pay attention.

Vox approaches with a steady and confident smile. Two drinks are secured around one hand. The second reaches out for a handshake. 

Alastor takes a step forward, using his body as a barrier.

“Just a friendly one,” Vox says, a charming smile on his screen. “It would be a shake to ruin the Princess’ evening. The music is lively, and the food and drinks are delicious.”

Alastor’s eyes twitch from underneath the mask when he sees you reaching out to shake Vox’s hand.

Well, that just won’t do! Alastor takes the handshake intended for you, grabbing Vox’s hand before you can reach it, and shakes his hand with a firmer grip than needed.

You’re determined to enjoy yourself, and Alastor prides himself for being a Husband.  (Rosie tells him that there’s a difference between ‘a husband’ and ‘a Husband’ with one clearly better than the other.) So, Alastor won’t cause a scene—not today at least.

Vox slides his eyes towards you, a smug smile displayed on the screen of his lips as he shakes Alastor’s hand. It forces you to tighten your hold around Alastor’s arm, leaning into his bicep to hide a scowl.

The handshake lasts longer than handshakes should last.

Vox offers you a glass. “I brought drinks to start,” he says, keeping the second glass around his hold closer to him. “I hope I’m remembering this correctly—but you still enjoy lemony flavors, correct?”

“How delightful!” Alastor tries to take the drink intended for you.

Vox quickly retracts the drink, taking a single step backwards. “It’s for the lady.”

Alastor’s smile widens ever so slightly into a snarl.

You take the drink from Vox, smiling as lemony goodness fills your senses. Not many bartenders keep such flavors. Part of you wonders if Alastor organized the bar to keep your favorite drink in stock.

One hand trails up Alastor’s back as static emits from his skin. It snakes around until it hooks behind his neck to pull him into a kiss. It’s just a quick peck of the lips, but Alastor places a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Such things are reserved in the confines of privacy, but it seems he doesn’t mind tonight.

There’s an imprint of your lipstick on his skin. It’s something you don’t bother mentioning to him

“Just before I lose you to the crowd,” you say.  “I’m sure you can’t leave your post for so long, and I’ve already kept you for far too long. Don’t worry about me—I won’t be too far from your gaze.”

Alastor presses one last kiss on your cheek before walking away.

With a scowl on his screen, Vox turns the other direction.

You trail behind him, smiling at the second untouched drink around his hand. It seems he’s also wearing a tail-coat tonight, but it doesn’t suit him as handsomely as it does for your husband.

“So, it seems you're here,” Vox tells you, that proud Overlord puff on his chest as he walks around the room. “And here I was wondering why the life in the room suddenly became dull.”

“Funny,” you say, matching his steps. “It seems you’re still pining for my husband—Will you ever give up on him?”

“Ah yes…the same husband who disappeared on your for seven years,” he says, casually swirling the second drink in his hand. “He left you once, he can leave you again.”

You take a sip of your drink, letting the taste of lemon slide down your throat even as your eye twitches from underneath the deer mask. “It’s quite hilarious to know you still remember how my husband hates lemon undertones in his drink.”

“Well, I didn’t want him choking on such unrefined tastes.”

“Is this meant for Alastor?” You grab the second glass from his hand, bringing it closer to your nose. “Whiskey. Ah… it was meant for him. What—were you too scared to give it to him?”

Vox barks out a laugh, crossing his arm. “It’s for me, actually.”

“Then drink it.”

“It’s been compromised by your stench.” Vox takes the glass and tosses it away.

From across the room, Alastor swirls his whiskey and allows his eyes to wander across the crowd. In a room full of Sinners, he can never be too careful especially when you’re involved. It’s then that his eyes catch Vox inching closer to you, and it’s then that his grip on the glass tightens.

Charlie smiles at Alastor as he doesn’t seem to be listening to her. That’s alright—it’s quite loud and drinks often tend to loosen him up. Alastor’s looking at her, but his body faces the crowd as he leans on one of the tables. It’s almost as if he’s looking out.

It’s been the same pattern for almost fifteen-minutes ever since Alastor came back with a bird mask instead of his own deer mask. Charlie would say something, and he would nod. From time to time, Alastor would glance out into the crowd in the same direction his body is facing.

“So, I had an idea to get more sponsors,” Charlie tells him, tapping the glass for her soda. “We can do a whole music number with flowers and dancing and singing, and I just thought you could be our main lead! The genre would be rap music.”

Alastor’s eyes slid to the crowd once more. “What a spectacular idea!”

Charlie follows his gaze until they land on you. Well, that certainly solved the mystery of where his deer mask went and where the bird one came from. One of the feathers on Alstor’s mask matches yours perfectly.

“Do you think we can get more TVs for the hotel?” she asks. “And I don’t mean the old ones, but the flat-screens that are about fifty-inches.”

You glance over at Alastor and Charlie when you notice their looks, and offer a small smile and a wave.

Alastor smiles back, giving you a wave as well. “Perhaps.”

“How about some digital cameras?” she says. “All of us could take a happy family portrait.”

“Of course.”

Wait-staff carry trays of different types of appetizers. Vox snatches a couple tiny platters, offering some to you. The first bite causes you to hum with delight. It’s quite delicious…but quite small. Vox offers another tiny plate to you, and it’s grabbed enthusiastically.

It’s great that Vox took more than one.

He bites into the cracker with some kind of seafood on them, humming at the taste. “You’ve aged.”

“Yes, it seems I have.” You laugh at him, shaking your head as you take another sip of your drink. “I’m quite lucky that I’m in the company of my husband to grow old with. It’s quite the treat to be able to live day to day with Alastor.”

Vox offers you a bite of the cracker.

You take it, nodding and humming with delight at the taste. “Oh, that’s quite good—here, taste this one.”

At the sight of your laughter, Alastor’s drink shatters into tiny pieces of broken glass. It shatters to the floor.

Charlies raises an eyebrow at him. It only takes a snap of her fingers for magic to work its wonders and clean the broken glass and replace his drink.

“Apologies,” Alastor says, smile widening just a fraction. It doesn’t fully reach his eyes. “I forgot my own strength.”

Once more, Charlie follows Alastor’s gaze until it lands on you, and once more, the glass in his hand shatters when he sees Vox inching closer to offer you some appetizers and then your laughter.

Charlie snaps her fingers and a new drink appears in his hold. “I’m going to run out of glasses eventually.”

Alastor takes a turn around the ballroom after Charlie kicks him away from the corner. It’s all he can do to call his growing ire to keep the guests happy. Afterall, it’s him who controls his emotions and not the other way around. There’s also the matter of his job.

A Sinner blocks his patch, a doll-like smile on her face. “Do you happen to be the Radio Demon?”

“In the flesh!” Alastor’s smile widens to show off the yellow in his teeth, giving a little bow.

“I wasn’t sure with the mask,” she says, motioning towards it. “My friends said they spotted you earlier with a deer mask, but it seems you’ve changed it. I quite like the feathers .... Although, the one that’s different kind of sticks out.”

A muscle in his cheek tightens. “I’m quite fond of that feather,” he says. “It means quite a lot to me, and I don’t take kindly to those who insult what is precious to me.”

“Oh…of course,” she says. “It suits you quite well.”

She points a finger towards his bowtie. It seems it’s a bit crooked. There’s a smile on her face as she reaches out her sully hands to fix it.

Alastor takes a single step back, making it a point to show it off to her that he’s doing so.

The doll-like smile on her face wobbles a little. That’s fine. Alastor always hated dolls. “Oh…um…,” she says, scrambling to recover. “There’s a stain on your lips.”

His ears flicker for a moment, but he runs his thumb across his mouth. Red stains his gloves. It’s the color of your lipstick. “It seems I do.”

“Been drinking too much wine tonight?” She offers him a handkerchief.

“No need.” Alastor takes out his own handkerchief. It has his initials carefully embroidered on them.  He goes to wipe your stain on his lips, but decides against it. “The wine they serve here is quite bland, but luckily there’s something much sweeter on the palate.”

Her smile fades into a frown when she notices the embroidery on the edges of his handkerchief.

Alastor continues to stand with a smile as she tries her best to compliment him in the smallest of ways. It’s quite nice to hear such compliments that inflate his ego.

Although… It's a bit weird.

The thrill of sudden recognition doesn’t hit as high as before. It’s just stagnant now. Praise doesn’t thrill him like they should.

Alastor allows his mind to wander, and his ego inflated to the highest degree when he imagines you standing before him instead, saying the things this random Sinner tells him. (He should figure out a way to get you to compliment him more.)

Plates of food and dozens of empty glass litter the bar table. It’s the aftermath of downing unlimited alcohol and enjoying some appetizers as insults are hurled that not even a merciful god can forgive.

Vox takes a bite of the olive and flicks the toothpick that came with his drink. It lands between your feathers.

A curse escapes your mouth as you try to dig it out. “Why are you even here?”

“It’s a party.” Vox hands you another drink. “I like the music, the drinks are unlimited, and this is quite fun.”

The drink gets downed in one gulp, and you flick the toothpick at a passing Sinner’s hair. It lands between the strands of his hair. “That’s one more point for me,” you say, pumping your fist. “Come on, TV boy—give me my point.”

Vox’s head flashes. It goes from his face to a screen with both your names on it. The number below your name increases on point before his face returns once more.

You shimmy a little dance as your point increases.

Vox makes a face, cringing at your dance. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

“Ha! His loser,” you say, sticking out your tongue.

“You’re still five points down,” he tells you, scowling as he grabs a passing drink from a waiter. “Why suggest this game if you’re not even good at it.”

You shrug, grumbling a little. “I always win against Alastor.”

“Are we not going to get in trouble?” Vox swirls the drink in his hand. “This is still a royal’s party.”

“Aren’t you an Overlord?” you say, taking another bite of a cracker. “Act like it. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s going to call you out.”

The music catches your attention, and it pulls your focus to the dance floor. Oh…Alastor’s dancing. His broad back puffs out as he moves across the floor with purpose and grace. There’s a charming smile on his face as he dances along the beat of the music.

That looks fun.

 It would certainly be a shame to waste such a beautiful dress by blending in with the decorations on the walls.

You turn to Vox. “Care to dance?”

Vox takes another toothpick, flicking it. It missed the Sinner’s hair. He curses while you pump your fist. “With you?” he says, making a face “Ew—no, that’s disgusting.”

“Alastor’s dancing right now,” you say. “It looks fun.”

Vox raises an eyebrow and glaces to the dance floor. A snarl appears on his lips when he notices that smug smile on the woman dancing with Alastor. “A new challenger?”

You tilt your head, and feathers slide across your face as you observe Alastor dancing. Oh, Vox’s right. There’s a woman with him right now. “Oooooh, who’s that? She’s quite the belle—smash.”

Vox turns to you, making a face. It’s quite funny to see. “Do you even know what that mean—”

“I know what I said.”

His screen shifts and paragraphs of information appear on his face. “Oh…she’s one of the daughters of the Ars Goetia.” The scowl on his face deepens as he continues watching, and he offers an arm towards you. “Come on—let’s dance. Game on, bitch.”

“Just ignore her,” you tell him. “She’s no threat to me, and I allow you to flirt with Alastor all the time.”

“That’s because I play fair,” Vox says, rolling his eyes. “We have our rules, and it creates order. This bitch doesn’t know that…and hasn’t someone ever told her—three’s a crowd.”

Once more, you turn to the dance floor. Alastor’s graceful movements catch your eyes and a delighted hum escapes your lips. His body dances with control and power. There’s awe in the woman’s face as Alastor dances with her. 

That’s alright—she’s only doing her due diligence.

Only a blind fool wouldn’t appreciate how Alastor’s hair sways with each side-step, or how his tail-coat fits handsomely across his back, or how charming his smile paints across his lips, or how the dress-pants he wears compliments how long his legs are.

Vox may be a fool but at least he isn’t blind.

“Holy fuck! Woman—get it together!” Vox points towards the dance floor, to the Sinner dancing with Alastor.

There’s a triumph in her smile. She dances with Alastor as if she won.

Vox watches your expression carefully, chuckling as a cold look steels your face despite the gentle smile. Oh, it is so on.

“Well, this just won’t do. If there’s one thing I hate—it’s those who don’t know their place,” you say, snaking your arm around Vox with a smile. “Game on, bitch.”

Vox escorts you towards the middle of the dance floor, that proud Overlord puff back on his chest. It’s quite easy to match his movements when he always was quite the talented dancer.

“Hey…,” you say, eyes twitching. “What are you doing?”

Vox’ hands hover above your skin, refusing to make contact. “I’m afraid that if I touch you, my life would turn to ruin like everything else that has had the misfortune of meeting you,” he tells you, a triumphant smile on his lips. “And you’re doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s because I’m married. It would be improper of me to be touching such a slimy Sinner.” You slam the point of your heel right on his shoe. “My apologies…it would be much easier to dance if you’re actually holding me.”

Vox steps on your toes, and you snarl at him. “You first, witch.”

“As you say whenever Velvette tells you to take a bath—no thanks.”

“The I guess you say the same thing about shampoo—”

“May I interrupt?”  There’s a wide smile on Alastor’s lips that show off the yellow in his teeth. He stands in the middle of the ballroom, not caring as others give him weird looks for blocking the path. Alastor stands proud as his hand offers itself to you.

Across the dance floor, there’s an irritated look on the woman’s face when Alastor abandoned her mid-dance. There’s a smile on your lips as you show her what real triumph looks like.

Vox smiles at him, and hands you towards your husband. “Of course.”

He takes your hand, playing with the tips of your fingers before intertwining them. A hand snakes around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. The music flows slowly across the room. It’s sweet melodies forcing you to lean your head on his chest.

Alastor squeezes your hand.

You squeeze back.

His legs slide between your as Alastor dips you low, a hand on the small of your back to support your waist. He takes the lead in this waltz, spinning and twirling your around while pressing himself as close as possible to you.

The side of his cheek, nuzzles into the crown of your feathers as you’re swayed around the ballroom.

“I’ve found myself in a bit of a corner,” you say, snaking your hand up and down his back as if to pet it. “I owe Vox two dances. You interrupted the first, but there’s still the matter of the second one.”

Alastor’s hand tightens around you, and shadows flare around the room. It causes dancing couples to instinctively take a step away. “Did he force you into a deal?”

“Not at all,” you say, nuzzling into his hold. “I lost a bet, that’s all. You know me, I get rather competitive, and got a little bored a while ago after getting my fill of food and drinks.”

 “I’ll take your place so just stay far away from him.” Alastor’s smile turns into a snarl. “Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again after this.”

You go on the tip of your toes to press a kiss. “Thank you.”

Alastor twirls you underneath his arm. “I never got to ask…,” he begins. “How do you like my outfit?”

“It suits you very well, my love,” you tell him. “In fact, I have to say that you are the most handsomest of handsome, and those pants really do you some justice.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Stop it.”

“Should I really?”

“No…,” he says, leaning into your ear. “I want to hear more.”

The dance ends eventually, and Alastor behind you with one hand on your shoulders and the other holding you to escort you like a gentleman.

Vox greets you with a wave, another drink around his hand.

You step out of Alastor’s hold and press a hand on Vox’ shoulder to whisper into his ear. “As you dance with my husband, I want you to know that he’s taking your hand only because I allow it,” you tell him with a smile. “I want you to know that it’s only possible because of the permission I grant you.”

Vox snorts and offers a hand out for Alastor. “Understood.”

The musicians play their instruments and music once again fills the dancefloor. Sinners stay paces away as Vox and Alastor dance, especially given the threatening expression on Alastor’s face. It’s funny how Vox doesn’t seem to mind Alastor’s darkened gaze.  The irritated look on your husband's face makes you a bit guilty. Oh well, you’ll make it up to him later.

The dance ends, and both Vox and Alastor go their separate ways once more. There’s a twinkle in Vox’s eyes as he gives you a small nod of farewell. It has you shaking your head.

Alastor wipes his hands before taking your hand once more. “Let’s go.”

“Already?” you say, frowning. “We’ve only had one dance so far.”

“We can dance to your heart's content, my love…just not here,” Alastor says, fixing the straps of your dress. His hands ghost around the zipper, and it lingers there for more than a moment. “Apparently, I’ve maxed out my working days. Charlie told me it was in my contract and I have to spend them before I can go back to work at the hotel. She practically kicked me out. So, I have the next few days off.”

“That’s good.”

“Shall we go?” Alastor brings your hand closer, pressing a kiss on the ring around your finger. “Home—our home.”

“Really?” you say. “You’re going to go home with me?”

“For the next two weeks.”

Alastor watches your smile brighten as your eyes crinkle. It’s the most precious thing in this ballroom, and its radiance can light up the whole room. You spring up to hug him, squealing as you wrap your arms around his neck. The force of your hug causes him to take a couple steps back to keep from falling over. Alastor places a hand on the small of your back to steady you.

His bowtie is crooked. 

You point towards it,and reach out a hand to straighten the fabric. Alastor takes a single step forward, leaning down to allow more access. The pads of your thumb smoothen his crooked bowtie.

Vox catches your eyes and he toasts a drink in your direction.

You remove the wedding ring around your finger, slipping it over your middle finger instead. The ring and the finger are presented to Vox as you leave with Alastor’s arm around your waist.

Game on, bitch.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Alastor whenever someone flirts with you : hiss hiss, get away from my wife. Reader whenever someone flirts with Alastor: Fucking understandable. Finally, someone with good fucking taste. This is so funny and silly. Vox and Reader are so sibling-coded that it wonderful. I love fan-fiction. I love how unserious it can be

[redheadspark]

i would like for the june prompt to request benedict bridgerton with dialogue #1 and prompt #7

A/N - This is cute for Benedict! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Regret

Summary - Benedict always spoke from the heart, unless it was about his childhood crush

Warnings - Fluff :)

It started in your childhood.

Your family moved into the estate next to the Bridgerton home, being instantly welcomed by Violet Bridgerton and her plentiful children.  It amazed you to see 8 children at your doorstep, Violet at the helm of course, and making sure her children were all well-mannered in their introductions.  It was a contrast to your family, you being the only child and rather shy when it came to meeting new people, mostly your parent’s friends and associates.  

However, each one of the Bridgerton children was pleased to meet you: Serious and yet kind Anthony, boisterous and playful Benedict, sweet-natured Colin, friendly Daphne, intelligent Eloise, timid Francesca, and playful Gregory and Hyancith.  You were envious of them and how they were great siblings together, but they “adopted” you into their world so to speak.  You were invited over to play with them several times, thanks to the growing friendship of your parents and the Bridgerton Matriarch.  

One Bridgerton latched onto you rather quickly: Benedict.

Whether was his playful nature or his boyish charm, you fell for it all the same when you two would chase each other and read side by side in his parlor.  Although you were more of a reader than he was, he never minded reading with you since you were telling him all the good parts in the books that he would like.

“I thought there were pirates in this book!” 

“There is, you must wait for the good part, Benedict!  Or would you rather read it yourself?”

“No, I prefer your reading it to me!  You know the bigger words than me,”

Of course, your parents were trying to raise you into a proper young lady, and yet you would return home from a playdate at the Bridgerton home with mud on your dress and your hair askew.  It wasn’t Violet’s fault, you were the one who would sneak off to run around with Benedict or learn how to draw with him too.  He becomes your favorite Bridgerton as time goes on from childhood to pre-adolescent. 

You both would still read together, though it was mostly you reading out loud to him as he would rest his head in your lap. He loved hearing your voice, vent using different voices for the characters in the book and knowing how to make the action scenes exciting.  It was one of your favorite times of the day with him, the pair of you almost tucked up with one another in the parlor.  You love this company, his light heartiness when you were stressed and his eye for creativity when he would talk about his art.  

When he started drawing with charcoal, you saw a new shift in him, a new spark.  He would be hunched over his pad and charcoal stick, etching out nature or something more abstract.  You would watch in fascination while he would bring art to life, thinking of him as a genius as his fingers would be strain black and his smile to widen even more.  Sure, you would say every single piece of art he drew was amazing and mind-blowing, but it was true. You saw the passion in him and in how he drew the curves, 

It was Eloise who first planted the seed inside of Benedict as you left for your home for the day.  She leaned over to whisper to Benedict, “I sense you have a crush on our neighbor,”

Benedict was flushed, whipping his head over to his younger sister who smirked at him as he huffed, “What makes you say that?  I simply enjoy her company!”

“Yet you would let her read to you for hours on end when you wouldn't let me do the same for more than 5 minutes,” Eloise replied smoothly and with no hesitation, Benedict was quiet for a moment as she raised a brow at him, “I wouldn’t dwell on it too much since it would only bring you a headache,”

Benedict thought back on that conversation every once in a while, thinking back to those smaller moments when he would be next to you.  You were a breath of fresh air for him, someone who made him laugh constantly and would take on one of his rants and quirks.  It made him feel special to be with you for hours on, on how you would choose to be with him over any of the other Bridgerton Siblings.  

But as times passed and you both became teenagers, feelings started to shift on both sides.  You were finding him attractive, his dark brown hair and bright eyes, the way he laughed and joked daily, it was all becoming a crush that you could no longer ignore.  Even with the impending notion that you were going to come out and go to balls in hopes of finding yourself a suitor, later on, a husband, Benedict never left your mind.

It was just was same with the second eldest Bridgerton.  He watched you blossom from a young girl with gangly knees and smudged cheeks into a beautiful young lady...  Even as the pair of you still read together or did art together side by side, it was a shifting change of tides for Benedict to see you as more than a friend.  He too knew the life of young women coming out and making their singles known in upcoming balls and throughout the season, and the thought of some random stranger of a man taking you away from him sickened him. 

He wanted you to be on his arm, to call him your husband, to choose him every day, and beyond that.  To him, it was more than friendship and comradery, it was love.  He was deeply in love with you and he couldn’t picture his life without you.  Then he was petrified, not knowing what to tell you or how to tell you. 

But leave it to his older brother Anthony, who was good friends with you, to tell him exactly what he needed to hear:

“You will regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t the girl of your dreams how you feel,”

So during the ball, the third ball you’ve been to with your dance card filled to the brim with suitors and hopefuls, Benedict saw you into the crowd.  You were dancing with another bachelor, though the look of your face was proper yet uninterested.  Benedict felt his stomach drop to the ground from the view of you in your gown, your hair in its curls, and how you looked more radiant than the rest of the ladies in the ballroom.  To him, you were still the little girl who laughed and played with him, who encouraged him to grow in his art and told him to never give up on his passion.  

You were the little girl who stole his heart.

Finally, as the song was ending and the couple bowed to one another, Benedict made his move.  He weaved through the crowd and kept his eyesight on you, seeing you look a bit grimaced as the bachelor was still lingering and attempting some small talk on you.  Now he was moving a bit quicker, Benedict thinking that he had a small window to do what he wanted to do.  He finally made it to you, giving you a slight bow and seeing the suspicious look on your face as he cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Apologies for interrupting, but I was told to accompany Ms. L/N to her parents for a serious discussion that cannot wait,” He explained, both yourself and the bachelor looking at each other in confusion.  But Benedict held out his arm for you to take, giving you a look to follow his lead.  You knew him well enough to take his arm and apologize to the potential suitor, yourself and Benedict walking away and moving out of the main crowd.  Benedict would see Anthony out of the corner of his eyes, a massive grin on his face as he was talking to his mother and your hand clutched his arm with uncertainty.

“Follow my lead,” He whispered to you, not wishing to cause a scene with the look you were giving him.  You nodded, remaining composed while he finally led the pair of you out to one of the main hallways that led to the garden.

Once you two were out of earshot and out of sight, you whirled around and glared at him, “What has gotten into you?”

“I have something I wish to say to you before it is too late,” He said to you, making you freeze from what he said and now look at him in confusion.  Benedict could only remember what his brother told you, how to tell you how he felt about you.  Seeing you there in front of him, looking beyond beautiful and radiant for him to only see for a few small moments.  He finally felt his heart settle in, and he opened his mouth.

“You have been a big part of my life, ever since we met as children.  You see me past my jokes and banter, you see me wishing to be myself and you accept it wholeheartedly.  I cannot deny how I feel as though I can fly every time you’re in the room, when you smile at me, simply looking at me.”  He explained, his lands slipping into your own as you were listening and watching him with undivided attention with your own heart beating fast and erratically.

“But seeing you tonight being pursued by others, others who do not know the real you and how authentic you are.  They see only one side of you when I have seen them all: when you nearly broke your wrist climbing after me as I went up a tree, when I taught you how to paint and sketch, and even when we first met so long ago.  We can’t go on like this.  Like friends is all we are.” He explained once again, his heart pouring out to you and perhaps he was lost in his own words.  Not realizing that you were grinning from ear to ear, that you were scooting a bit closer to him, that you were thinking the same thing too.

“It’s brash for me to tell you this since you probably have others who have already caught your affection and attention, and it must be worse since we have known each other for far too long to cause questions, but I am willing to take on any—“

You silenced him with a passionate kiss.

Benedict’s mind swept away as you were pressing against him and left your lips along his, his own passion for art was now dimmed and replaced with something ten times brighter.  At first, he thought that he was demeaning and this was something he made up within his own mind, but then again a dream would not feel this real.  Smelling the perfume that was on your skin your mother inside on your wearing, feeling the cooling touch of your dress against his fingertips that seemed so soft like a cloud, and the touch of your lips that would be his new favorite taste that he will never forget in his lifetime.

Yet it also seemed short-lived, you were about to pull away and Benedict inwardly feared that to happen.  So he tucked his fingers under your chin to keep you there, kissing you back softly and making you almost whimper from the kiss itself.  Benedict felt you smile, making him smile back as you pulled away to peer up at him.  He saw the shift in your eyes, how bright they were compared to before, and how they now almost glittered in candlelight.

“It took you long enough to do something, Mr. Bridgerton,” You teased, Benedict’s eyes going wide as you gigged and went on, “I thought I would be a spinster by the time you shared your feelings for me, and I would have said the same about you,”

“You….you had…now hold on!” Benedict questioned as you crossed your arms in front of yourself with slight annoyance, “You too had feelings for me?”

“Of course, I always had feelings for you!” You explained, seeing him cock his head in confusion while you gestured to yourself, “I would have thought you asked sooner to court me!”

“Oh,” He replied, you grinning back at him as he smiled liked a fool hopelessly in love, “Well…and I mean this with the utmost respect…why did you not voice your feelings for me before,”

You sighed, looking down rather sheepishly, “First, I was told it was unlady like.  And…I did not know if you mirror those affections as I did,”

Benedict saw the flushness of your cheeks, the inner conflict that you had to say how you felt.  He then realized that you both were tip-toeing around one another, willing to stay friends with one another, and having the ultimate fear of being rejected or seen as foolish.

So Benedict tucked his fingers under your chin again to coax you in for another kiss.  You took it willingly, leaning into him as the small light of the candles gave an ever-loving glow over the pair of you.  Almost a shield from the rest of the ball that seemed to have melted away as you kissed.  Feeling nothing but bliss floating between you two as you both were finally living out the dreams.

Neither of you noticed both Eloise and Anthony watching while they were hiding around the corner, both with massive rings on their faces.

The End

June Prompt Session

[delusional-day-dreamer]

U My Everything - p.b

‣ paige x grumpy reader

‣ wc: 3178

‣‣ synopsis: paige's harmless joke is taken a little too personally by her sensitive and grumpy girlfriend; slight angst? but very fluffy by the end! (the song is most relevant for the end part of the fic as it's inspired by KK's 05/31/24 live, can u tell I live for uconn lives?)

‣‣‣ a/n: I'M SORRY, i know y'all chose emily in the poll but I alr finished this one and I've promised myself I would try to release at least one fic a day; emily's will be out very very soon, writing smut for the first time is just very nerve wracking lmao. this is lightly based off the, good morning gorgeous, tiktok trend going around rn; Also, I'm so sorry for the amount of times I use y'all, like, literally, and really because I try to make my dialogue and what not as realistic as possible, but as a Southern Californian they're literally engraved into my vocabulary 😭😭.

Rolling over in bed half-conscious, your arms reach out, patting around the bed in an attempt to locate your girlfriend's warmth without having to open your eyes. However, to your sheer disappointment, your fingers are met with cold, rumpled sheets on Paige's side of the bed.

Now fully conscious with confusion as to how your girlfriend managed to slip from bed without you realizing, the pounding in your head became all the more severe as you sat up in bed, frustrated that the one person who could comfort you simply with their presence was nowhere to be found.

With your right hand massaging the temple, attempting to soothe the deep ache that had settled into the front portion of your head, your left hand blindly felt around your nightstand for your phone, knowing Paige wouldn't have left you alone in bed without so much as a simple text message. But to your surprise, her name was absent from your list of notifications.

Even more annoyed than before, you forced yourself out of her bed, stumbling your way to her adjacent bathroom, wincing at the sudden intrusion that was fluorescent lighting. By the time you began brushing your teeth, you heard the front door open, hearing Paige call your name as she entered the dorm.

"Bathroom," you yelled out to her, despite your head screaming at you to shut up and crawl back under the safety of Paige's comforter.

"Hey baby," Paige greeted as she entered the bathroom while you spit toothpaste into the sink, coming up behind you to hug your waist, resting her head on your shoulder. As you stood back up to meet her gaze in the mirror's reflection, you saw her tuck her bottom lip into her mouth, clearly trying to hide her shit-eating grin.

"Well don't you look... interesting this morning," she teased, the sarcasm apparent in her low voice. You knew her mocking was all in good fun, the two of you often poking fun at each other for little things. But perhaps it was the headache still waging war in your skull, or the final three midterms you had to take later today, or your remanent annoyance at having to wake up alone, despite her knowing your favorite part of the day was waking up, warm and all loved up in her arms, or perhaps it was the fact that looking in the mirror, you genuinely looked wrecked this morning.

Your curly hair was reduced to nothing but a puff of frizz overnight, sticking out in all directions, your eyebags particularly prominent this morning, combined with the pesky anxiety breakout that had settled into your forehead a few days prior, you just couldn't handle her jokes today.

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out Paige," you shot back, setting your toothbrush back in its cup holder, exiting her hold to wipe your hands on the small towel before pushing past her to get dressed in her room.

Paige followed close behind you, curious as to why you were giving her so much attitude so early in the day, especially over such a harmless statement.

"What's up with you, this is the first time I've even seen you this morning," She questioned from her seat on the unmade bed as you began changing your clothes with your back facing her, which was another thing that struck out to her as odd. After dating for over a year now, the two of you were incredibly comfortable with each other, and it was rare for you to completely turn your back on her, even when changing.

"Nothing, I'm just not in the mood today," you grumbled, tugging your, her, sweatshirt over your head. Heading over to her floor length mirror with your makeup bag and necessary hair products in hand, you settle down on the floor in front of it, convinced to improve your appearance a bit before you head off to your exams today. Still ignoring Paige's presence in the room, you began getting ready.

Hearing her scoff as you started applying your makeup, she got up and began making the bed, intent on ignoring your bratty mood until you fixed it. You knew you were being petty and acting bitchy to your girlfriend, who had technically done nothing wrong, you just couldn't force yourself to drop the attitude. By the time you finished your makeup and smoothed out your slickback, you managed to go the entire twenty minutes without so much as looking at your girlfriend through the mirror, who had now perched herself on her side of the bed, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

Your headache hadn't subsided yet, but now that you were more awake, you had gotten used to the throbbing sensation. Making your way over to your side of her bed, you collected your phone, headphones, watch, school bag, and other items from your nightstand and around the area to get ready to leave.

"Your heading out already? You still have over an hour before your first class," Paige finally addressed you, putting her phone in her lap to look at you as you packed your things.

"Yeah I'm gonna head to the library early so I can review before my first midterm," You answered, speaking to her normally for the first time in the last hour she had returned.

"But what about breakfast, you're not gonna be able to concentrate and stuff when you're all hangry," she said, only slightly teasing you with her statement.

"I'll just grab something to eat from the coffee shop next to the library, I was gonna stop by and get matcha from there anyways," you responded, a small part inside of you glad that despite your attitude, Paige made sure that you were well taken care of.

"Dude I still don't understand how you drink that stuff, tastes like straight grass," she had dropped her concern and switched back to joking, her automatic setting. "But I guess it's fitting," she continued, "cause yk, cows just love their grass," she sighed, holding back her laughter at what she thought was a brilliant joke.

In her defense, if it was any other morning, you would've joined in on her teasing, either mooing at her in response or poking fun at her in return.

But today, it just ticked you off even further. I mean, you were clearly already in a bad mood, stressed the fuck out, hangry (but Paige didn't need to know she was right), and the sharp pressure in your head was only getting worse. Plus, Paige had already easily finished off her midterm exams two days prior, which meant she didn't truly understand why you were so worked up over your exams. And the worst part, your bloating and exhaustion really did make you feel a little bit like a cow.

“P I'm just not in the mood to deal with you right now," you sighed, exasperation laced in your tone. "I already feel bad enough this morning, I can't handle you piling more onto my plate, I'll see you later," you barely even said goodbye to her properly as you gathered your stuff, put on your shoes, and left her dorm.

The second you closed her door behind you, you could feel the pit forming in your stomach, full of regret and shame. You knew it was unfair to be so rude to Paige when she was just trying to lighten your mood, but your anxiety always caused you to last out at anyone who tried to help you. You made a mental note while walking to your favorite coffee shop to apologize and make it up to her when you saw her in the evening, after the stress from midterm week had diffused and your raging headache calmed down.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You were flipping through your study notes and flashcards while listening to one of Paige's playlist on the lowest volume possible when you saw your phone screen light up from next to you. Deciding it would be good to take a quick thirty second break, you reach for your phone and matcha latte at the same time, clicking on the text message you received from Paige.

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From P 💜:

I'm so sorry for making fun of you this morning baby, I know you're stressed about your tests today and I had no intentions of making you feel worse with my jokes, I just wanted to cheer you up a bit because I know how bad your anxiety can get. Good luck on your test today killer, i love you 🤍.

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Shit, now you really felt bad for snapping at her earlier today. All remnants of your misplaced anger had long since disappeared, now replaced with embarrassment. She was right, your anxiety was hitting you hard today, but that was no excuse for bitching out your girlfriend just for trying to improve your mood. You quickly hearted her message and began typing out a short response, as you knew you needed to apologize in-person for your behaviour.

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To P 💜:

Thank you so much P, I'll see you later tonight baby. I love you too 🤍

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***SMALL TIME SKIP***

You breathed a sigh of relief as you finally reached the floor of Paige's dorm room, exhausted from your long and mentally tiring day of midterms, but you were finally done, your headache was finally gone, and you now had the weekend to relax and spend time with your girlfriend.

As you reached for your keys in your pocket, you heard the loud commotion of voices that you recognized to be KK, Aubrey, Sarah, Allie, and Paige in the living room. It wasn't uncommon for the girls to be over, as the team always spent hung out together outside of practice, and since you started spending more time at Paige's dorm, you had quickly stocked her near bare kitchen full of snacks, baked goods, and home-cooked meals the girls loved to steal.

You entered the living room greeting everyone as you took off your shoes, making a beeline straight to where Paige was sitting on the couch. You stood in between the space of her legs, wrapping your free arm around her shoulders to lean down and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Hey P," you spoke softly, looking down at the small smile that had settled on her face.

"Hey yourself, how were you midterms? Today was your last day right?" She questioned as her fingertips began running up and down the back of your legging covered thigh.

"They were fine, I think I did good on majority of them. My math midterm was a little shaky, but not too bad yk?" You answered her quietly, afraid to pop the little bubble of peace you two had created around yourselves among the chaos of the living room's occupants.

"I," you began, as your hand had made its way to the front of her face as you pushed back a small piece of hair that had escaped out of her bun. "Will you come in the room with me real quick?" You asked her, practically whispering at this point.

"Yeah of course baby," she answered quickly, letting her hand travel up your body to rest at the small of your back as she stood up, leading you past everyone to her bedroom.

"We'll be right back," she announced to the group as the two of walked by. "Oooo, Paige is in trouble," KK sang out as the two of you reached her closed room door, Paige still standing behind you. She turned the knob quickly, gently pushing you into the room first as she turned around to stick her tongue out at KK before she closed the door.

By the time she turned around from the door to face you, she barely had a moment to adjust to your body barreling into her, as you had already dropped your bag off next to her desk. She quickly wrapped her arms around you, being able to sense that you just needed to be held for a minute before speaking.

She lightly rubbed your back and shoulders with her hands, knowing exactly what it was that immediately calmed you down. You stayed silent in her comforting embrace for a few more minutes, having craved her touch all day when you were around campus.

"I'm sorry," you finally spoke up, unburying your head from her chest to look her in the eyes. "I was really rude to you for no reason this morning. My headache when I woke up and all the stress I had was completely unrelated to you, but I still ended up taking it out on you," you sighed before continuing, "I really appreciate the fact that you were trying to cheer me up this morning, even though I was being a total bitch. And you are never a burden or someone who adds more onto my plate, I love you and I'm so sorry I said that to you, I would never want you to feel that way and-" as your eyes began to well up with tears, the last of your apology was cut off by Paige.

"Hey hey it's okay baby," she pulled you slightly away from her as the tears began flowing from your eyes. "I know you," she maintained eye contact as she reassured you, "And I know you would never act like that normally, you are not a bitch. You were just stressed out and not feeling well. I understand, and I promise I'm not mad at you at all," her right hand moved up from your back to your face, wiping the tears streaming down your face.

"Thank you P, I have no idea what I would do without you," you sniffled lightly, your hand coming up to wipe your face as well. "I love you so much, you have no idea," you professed.

"I love you too y/n/n," she whispered as her hands wrapping around your waist as she pulled you into her, leaning down slightly to kiss you. Your hands flew up the moment your lips connected, one cradling her jaw while the other rested on the base of her neck. The kiss was slow and languid, an apology met with forgiveness as your lips moved together.

The loud rumbling of your stomach, interrupted your sweet moment with Paige, forcing the two of you to separate as a giggle slipped out of her.

"Didn't realize a small kiss made you that hungry for me," she smiled, now at peace knowing that you were no longer upset. "Shut up," you smiled back, lightly hitting her chest as you broke away from her. "I am for real hungry though, but I need to shower first," you told her as you moved around the room, grabbing your towel and a fresh pair of pajamas to change into.

"I'm pretty sure Aubrey is ordering Domino's so I'll tell her to add in something for you, and it'll probably be here by the time you get out," she kissed your cheek as you went to exit the room, heading for a quick shower as she remained in her room.

***SMALL TIME SKIP***

As you entered the living room, curls freshly washed, a soft pair of Paige's sweatpants resting low on your hips, and a small off the shoulder sweatshirt over your sleep tank top, you witness KK showing her tik tok live her "hips dance", if it could even be referred to as that.

"Oh wow," Paige commented dryly at the sight while getting up from the couch so she could grab her laptop from the kitchen counter. You moved past her to Aubrey's desk, grabbing a piece of garlic knots from the Domino's box she left partially open (i don't think she actually bought any but I'm craving them so i added it in here). You rested your hip against the table, waving at the live while KK queued up Sexyy Red on her Siri.

Everyone knew you and Paige were a couple, when Paige accidentally hard-launched you by posting a cute couples pic on her main instagram story instead of her close friends. But since then, the two of you kept a private but not secret relationship, very occasionally posting together, but fans often saw candids of the two of you on dates or together in the team's lives or other events.

You licked the remaining cheese and butter off your fingers as you watched Paige, KK, and Aubrey dance in front of the camera to "U My Everything", smiling at their so-called dance moves, especially Paige's.

"Man we go together tell them hoes we go together," Paige sang, before doing her little "attitude now walk" move, making you double over with laughter at her with the other two girls.

You scratched the back of your neck as you continued to watch the girls mess around, too tired from your day to join them, but content just from watching them. As the second chorus approached, Paige walked up to your leaned figure on the desk, grabbing your bare waist and pulling you into her as she sang.

"Bae, I love you, you my everything, I'm your main bitch, fuck a wedding ring," you laughed at her awful singing, but you couldn't deny the blush that rose to your cheeks at the thought of her singing you the lyrics while very clearly in the live's frame. "We both in fast cars and we switchin' lanes, when I'm away from you, you always on my brain," she continued, adding in her sassy facial expressions with the corresponding lyrics.

You couldn't help but laugh at her actions, the pure giddiness coursing through your veins was a complete 180 from your mood this morning, and you couldn't help but think there was nowhere that would make you happier than in her arms.

Thank you for reading all the way through! The recent support has been crazy and I appreciate all of you! Should I make a part two to this with smut so r can properly apologize to p.... 😏😏😏

[therapycat21]

Victoria Secret Perfume

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x musician!Reader

Type: One Shot

Description: The reader becomes friends with Noah and they make the social media world run in circles.

Word Count: 1049

“Ugh, that was amazing!” I gasp out, I’ve been out of breath since playing the seventh song and just now catching my breath. The group and I stood talking for a bit before our manager butts in “My favorite people in the world, sorry for interrupting but there are some people here to meet you”

I look around confused as does the rest of the group “We’re not supposed to do fan meet and greets tonight” our lead singer Tia says to him. He shakes his head smiling “I was told that there was another band in the audience tonight and they wanted to meet you guys” He says smiling too hard, I squint my eyes at him before asking “Who?” his phone beeps and he walks over to one of the doors, before opening he smirks at me “its the band bad omens.”

I can feel my heart starting to pound, I told Carlisle in confidence how much of a crush I had on their singer, and knowing him, this wasn't just a coincidence that they are here after telling him. He opens the door and welcomes the band in before walking them over to us.

I watch as he introduces the girls by name and I make eye contact with Noah as he now stands in front of me, I inhale a subtle deep breath before smiling up at him “Hi I’m Y/n” I introduce myself, sticking my hand out. His hand is so warm as he shakes my hand, holding it a few seconds longer (Or I’m being delulu) He smiles down at me “Yeah, I used to watch your live streams”

my heart stutters as he laughs slightly at my reaction. I close my mouth, not knowing it was open. “Thank you, you guys are amazing” I realize I’m only addressing Noah and I look to the side at the rest of the band “Seriously, You guys killed it” they smile in appreciation. I look back and notice Noah still staring at me. 

That is how we became best friends, fast forward to now and a lot has changed, Tia left the group to work solo, I, Isla and Valery decided to stay a throuple and it’s been even more amazing, They deemed me to start singing and the fans have been so supportive and like our new image.

The band and I are very good friends with Noah’s, more so Noah and I have become close, him helping me with my performance anxiety and me helping his. Over the past year, fans have been going crazy over our friendship, now and then we come across a fan edit of us on TikTok, and it's pretty funny reacting to them on live stream.

I sit at home in my gaming room and have been live streaming the past two hours playing a game and talking to some fans when my phone lights up with a message. “Speak of the devil” I laugh and look at Noah's message asking if he can come over, after responding I go back to streaming.

“So I’ll probably see you all at the next show here in Virginia soon, I’m so excited,” I say with excitement not knowing Noah has just walked in the room but considering I can’t hear with these headphones on. I looked at the chat box as it was starting to go crazy “Someone’s behind you?” before I could turn I felt warmth surrounding my back and sighed in relief.

Noah bends behind my chair, hugging me from behind, nestling his head in the side of my hair, I chuckle as the chat starts spamming and I can barely read the messages. He lets go and swings a chair over to sit next to me “I didn't know you were gonna be here that quick, you scared the shit out of me” I lightly slap his stomach. He laughs and catches my hand in his “I was already on my way over when I called you” I start to laugh hysterically.

I look at the chat, “Please tell me what Noah smells like?” I laugh and shake my head, “Are you and Noah together?” I shake my head again “Noah looks like he would smell like cinnamon or mint but in reality, he smells like Victoria's Secret perfume” I smirk at the comments flowing through and look over my shoulder at him.

He wasn't even paying attention to the stream, he was staring and watching his hand rub back and forth on my side and back, I tapped his knee and he looked up “Mhm?” I laugh as he isn't paying attention “They were asking what you smelled like” he furrows his eyebrows and looks to the stream “Some people say I look like I smell like mint or maybe cinnamon but I smell like that perfume you use” he points to me at the end.

I continue to stare at him, I forget how deep his voice can get, I break away from my thoughts when I see his face form into a smug smirk, and he looks me up and down, I take a quick breath and turn my attention back to the stream.

“Why would he smell like you?” I read one of the comments, I glance at him slightly and hover my cursor on the end stream button “Because when he lays on top of me at night my smells linger onto him” I laugh and quickly end the stream before the fans spam and go crazy.

I look at Noah as he starts to laugh “I can’t believe you did that, they're gonna go feral now” He says standing up from the pink furry desk chair, he holds his hand out for me to help me stand up. I stare up at him and hug his waist “I gotta give the fans what they want” I smirk, tap his chest, and walk out of the room. 

Noah stands in the middle of the room and glances at me as I walk away, smirking and feeling proud and claimed by the girl who is the love of his life and the girl who makes him willingly spray Victoria's Secret perfume on so he can smell her when she’s not in a room.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cause of Action 6

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: this is a bit of a longer chapter so thank you for waiting! Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You find your clothes on the bench at the end of the bed and dress. You can hear Andy below, a reminder of your displacement and your poor judgement. Still, there’s a needling thought at the corner of your mind. If he didn’t want you to get drunk, why didn’t he stop that man from feeding you shots? 

Well, it’s like he said. He was just trying to get what he need for the case. You have a lot to learn about the law it seems. You’re starting to wonder if it’s for you at all. The grim office, the sleazy clients, and the questionable cases. 

It might not even be your choice. You made a fool of yourself. The first chance you get and you screw up. Your mom was right; you’re not smart enough for all this. 

You sit on the bench and teeter indecisively. You wonder if you should go down and apologise again but you’re too dizzy to move. You slump onto your side and hug your skull. You feel like trash. After last night, you are trash. 

Andy’s words reverberate in your head. You crawled into bed with him, nearly naked. What is wrong with you? Why would you even do that, drunk or not? He’s good looking but he’s above your age range. And divorced. And definitely not into you. Not that you’d put much thought into that. You don’t date, you already have enough to worry about. Maybe that’s why you got a bit dumb. 

“Hey,” Andy startles you and you turn your head to see above your arm, “got you some coffee. Regular, no hazelnut.” 

He nears and you push yourself up with effort. You thank him with a croak and accept the tall white mug. You stare at the brim. 

“What kind of coffee do you like? I’ll order some for the office,” he sits next to you. 

You blow over the dark brew, “that fine. Thank you, Mr. Barber, I think...” you groan and brace your forehead as it throbs again, “I’m real sorry about last night.” 

He’s quite as he considers your apology. He surprises you as he snorts lightly, “I can’t lie. I was kind of flattered.” 

You’re reassured that he’s not as upset as before. That edge is gone from his voice and the tension between you isn’t strangling. You nod and taste the coffee. 

“It’s good,” you say, “thanks.” 

“Yeah? Well, you look like you could use it. You’re welcome to stick around, get some sleep. You’ll feel better if you lay down.” He flicks his thumb nail against his index, “I could order some food. Something greasy.” 

“Really, Mr. Barber, it’s fine. I’ve already messed up the whole day.” 

“It’s fine. I sent an out of office email.” 

“Still,” you rub your neck, “I feel bad and I don’t wanna impose any more than I already have.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was a bother,” he shrugs, “but I won’t keep you. You probably got a boyfriend waiting on you, huh? Probably curious why you didn’t call last night? Or come home.” 

You blink and shake your head. You take another swig of the delicious caffeinated delight, “no.” 

“No, he isn’t worried?” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you roll your eyes, sending a thrum through your skull. “I should go get myself together so I can work tomorrow.” 

He hums and nods, his fingers running up and down his pant leg as he thinks, “you’re a hard worker. That’s good.” 

“Right? You still think so, after last night?” You scoff. 

“Yeah, I do,” he says softly, “look, earlier, I know I was... a bit... tense but you gotta understand, if anyone at the practice found out, it wouldn’t look good. We’d both be in trouble.” 

“I got it,” you look down guiltily, “you know, it wasn’t me... I’m not like that. I don’t even remember but I don’t... I don’t just you know... crawl into bed with people.” 

He chuckles, “hey, none of my business, right?” 

You smile and wince, relieved that he isn’t mad. You put the mug to your forehead and sigh at the soothing heat. He puts his hand to your back and rubs, “hey, why don’t you at least take it easy before you go running off? You’re hungover.” 

“Mmm,” you drone flatly, “yeah, maybe...” you pull the mug away and look inside, only a mouthful left, “you got any more coffee?” 

“Sure,” he stands and offers to take your cup. You finish the last little bit and hand it over. You offer a weak smile. 

“Thanks again,” you mutter. 

He leaves you and you glance around, fingers twiddling restlessly. Where’s your phone? You crane to see over your shoulder, searching the night tables and the dresser and the slim desk against the opposite wall. It’s not in the bed either. 

You turn slowly and use the bench to push yourself to your feet. You walks stiffly to the door and stare down the hallway. You don’t recognise anything. You cautiously wade forward through your hangover and peek in each doorway. 

You stop in the doorway of what appears to be the guestroom. The bed is made and the curtains are drawn. There’s nothing disturbed in there. He must have tidied up after your drunken antics. Still, you don’t see your shoes or your bag or your phone. 

You turn down the hall as you hear a creak and Andy appears at the top of the staircase. He gives you a curious look, “bathroom’s in there.” He nods to his left, both hands full as he holds two mugs. 

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you near him and accept a cup from him, “actually, I was hoping for my phone.” 

“You were? It’s downstairs by the door with the rest of your things,” he explains. “Want me to grab it?” 

“Uh, no, it can wait, I guess,” you back up, “coffee’s really good.” 

“Thanks,” he grins proudly, “since my divorce, I’ve mastered the medium roast. Got the whole set up; grinder, frother... I turned into a real old man once I signed those papers. Oh, and had to learn how to use the oven again.” 

You nod at him, overwhelmed by his ramble. He’s much different than the man who’d given you such a rude awakening. Like he said, you’re moving past it. Still, you don’t think you’ll ever forget your stupidity. 

“Ah, yeah, I’m more of the microwave type,” you utter, “or Mr Noodles. Cheap and quick.” 

“Mm, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” he says, a glean of condescension in his voice. “You wouldn’t believe it when I was in college. I ate in at the 7-Eleven most nights. Probably why my cholestrol is through the roof. That or the stress.” He chuckles and nudges you back toward the bedroom, “I mean, you met my client last night. Some of the people you gotta deal with give you chest pains.” He follows you down the hall, “girl like you, kinda wonder what drew you in.” 

“Oh, well,” you take his direction without a thought. You don’t know the house very well so you can only go back and sit at the end of the bed, “my guidance counselour said it would be good.” 

“Right,” he squints and hovers his glass before his mouth, a skepticism in his cheek. You want to cringe. You don’t sound very committed to the practice. 

“I mean, I took some law classes in high school so...” 

“Hey, you’re young,” he shrugs as his cheek dimples, “you never know where you’ll and up.” 

[b-1-m-b-0]

The Cat Distribution System

Warnings: collaring, name calling, suggestive?, reader’s naked in SOME parts. She can shift back with clothes but they feel uncomfortable in cat form. None of this makes sense and I can’t write for shit. Enjoy?

She scampered off, her claws scratching against the floor as she bolted in the other direction, having been startled by a loud sound.

The usual bustling streets of hell were deserted, not a soul in sight. Lucky for her, it meant she could finally stretch.

Outstretching her front paws, she could see her soft fur start to change, being replaced my soft skin. Her paws transformed into hands, the process continuing until she looked humanoid.

Her form wasn’t as horrifying as some sinner’s she’d seen before, she was part of the more animalistic portion.

Soft ears poked out from her head, paired with a long wispy tail sticking out just inches above her bottom.

With a soft moan of contentment she tenses every muscle in her body before letting go, relaxing instantly.

Her ears twitched as they registered a sound, making her pause and scan around the area. She wasted no time in hiding in the shadows of an alley, moving to crouch behind a dumpster.

What she saw made her thank her quick reflexes, as the infamous Radio Demon strutted down the sidewalk. He walked with his head held high, a row of sharp yellow teeth showed as his smile got wider, like he knew he was being scrutinized under a watchful gaze.

With a loud snap, his head was now fully turned to the side, peering into the darkness with glowing red eyes. In a panic, she hid behind the dumpster, changing her form to that of a feline.

She prayed to whatever deity out there that he hadn’t seen her, and that he’d just go along his merry way. As a few moments passed, followed by nothing nut silence she allowed her shoulders to slump, closing her eyes and letting out a mental sigh.

Unluckily for her he had just managed to walk over without so much as a sound, and a large claw clad hand leaned down, picking her up by the scruff. Her eyes darted open, as he leaned down slightly to get a better look at her.

“Hm, a flea ridden pest.” He commented coldly, causing her to silently scoff. She hissed at the demon, flailing in his hold, trying to scratch or bite him, whichever one surprised him enough so he’d let her go.

He seemed unphased at her hissy fit, finding it amusing. It’s like the feline knew of his reputation, and was urgently trying to escape. Of course that couldn’t be true, the animal was probably just frightened at being picked up so suddenly, he told himself, as he held her close to his chest.

With one arm he held her like one would a newborn baby, and the other was used to tap his cane against the sidewalk with every step he took.

He walked with a pep in his step, returning to the hotel with the kitten still in his arms.

He made his way in through the front door, glancing down to see the kitten already looking up at him, her paws held close to herself.

The door closed behind him on it’s own, and instead of walking all the way up the stairs snd into his room, he let himself fade into his shadow, appearing in his room.

The feline appeared to be dizzy, jumping off from his arms and stumbling away from him. “What the hell was that?!” She screamed at him, her words coming out as a string of loud meows, causing him to laugh.

——————————————————

He treated you as a pet, being surprisingly affectionate—probably because he still believed you to be a normal cat— giving you head-pats and scratches which had you purring loudly and nuzzling your head close to his palm.

You had to keep up the facade so you could stay under his care for as long as possible, having no doubt he’d kick you to the curb should he find out you’re a sinner.

Everyday he had the same routine, he’d broadcast in the early mornings, blabbing on about things like the weather, certain rumors that were going around, or just simply playing jazz tunes.

After that he’d go off to satisfy whatever princess Charlie Morningstar asked of him, giving him a list of things he’d need to do around the hotel.

Instead of doing all of it himself he’d call for the souls he owned, handing them the list so they could do his bidding for him.

Their names were Niffty and Husker, you’d learned, as he used to rant to you about how useless they were—mostly Husker— and the most recent thing they’d done to disappoint him.

Despite his reputation as a force not to be reckoned with as well as a feared overlord, he certainly was a gossip, not being able to keep his mouth shut when it came to judging others.

It didn’t bother you though, as you enjoyed the talks you guys had. Well, more like the talks he had with himself, sometimes he could swear you understood what he said whenever you nodded along as he spoke about whatever issue was on his mind that particular day.

More days had gone past with you under his care. Today he’d gone to broadcast earlier than usual, and you of course stayed locked up in his room while you waited for him to get back.

In the meantime you allowed yourself a much needed stretching of your limbs, as being stuck in your cat from had a certain way to stiffen up your joints.

You did your usual routine, walking around the room stark naked, glancing in the mirror, looking around his things, and laying in his bed instead of the one he’d bought for you.

You laid on the soft sheet-clad mattress, rolling around in it, resting your head on the comfortable pillows. You breathed in the scent of him that stuck to the sheets, a scent you’d come to find comforting.

Closing your eyed you further pushed your nose in the pillows he’d rested on, smelling him on them, causing you to purr happily.

In your momentary distraction Alastor had finished up his morning broadcast, feeling chipper at the start of a good day. He walked back to his room, wanting only to sit in his chair and play with the kitten he’d found on the streets just a few days ago.

Your ears didn’t register the sound of the door opening over the sound of your own purring, and what greeted Alastor was a strange woman in his room, completely bare. His eyes widened at the woman, as nude as the day she’d been born, her face buried in his sheets.

Before he could jump to conclusions, he noticed the same color ears and tail as the kitten he had taken in a while ago, finally realizing who it was. Despite his initial anger, he came to realize it was still his pet, and sinner or not she’d remain under his care until he decided otherwise.

He creeped over to the bed, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Dearest!” He exclaimed, causing her to freeze. “How’s today treating you so far?” He questioned, feeling her shoulders tense under his hands.

She jumped up, screeching in fear. Her hands went up to cover her chest, her tail covering anything below the waist. She turned her neck to look at him, fear clear across her face. “This—this isn’t what it looks like…” she spoke up, causing his head to snap to the side. “Really? Then you wouldn’t mind explaining?” His smile got wider, his amusement growing with each second.

Her face flushed as she tried to stutter out an excuse, her lips trembling and eyes watering when she couldn’t find one. “Now now, cease your pathetic crying, I’m not mad at you!” He grasped her jaw, his claws digging into the soft skin of her cheeks.

“Really?” She looked up at him with those hopeful eyes, almost causing a positive emotion to bloom inside his cold, dead heart. “Of course not! Why i just wish I’d found out sooner!” He let her jaw go, tapping the microphone part of his cane on her head, dressing her in a soft satin nightgown in a light baby pink color with his magic.

“Lots of people wish they could speak to their pets. I consider myself lucky having domesticated an abomination such as you!” He spoke the insulting words in such a cheerful tone you almost didn’t catch the jab at your person.

“Ah, still. I’m sorry for not telling you I’m not really a cat, I was just—“ you began rambling on, not paying attention to the way Alastor wasn’t actually listening to your words, instead snapping his fingers, causing a black leather collar to appear. The collar had a name carved into the leather, Alastor.

He placed his finger on your lips, effectively shushing you. He unbuckled the collar, his slender hands placing it around your neck, tightening it not enough to cause discomfort but enough for it to not slip off. He seemed pleased with himself, reaching his hand out to pet you.

It felt different than all the other times, but you couldn’t exactly place your finger on why. You purred, your tail swishing behind you happily. His claws scratched against your scalp, making your lips part in satisfaction.

“Don’t worry for now dear, you’ll have plenty of time to make it up to me.” His tone darkened, and his smile widened so much it looked like his cheeks were about to tear.

[vox-ex]

can we have 💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft?? please and thank you!

Thank you so much for the ask! and your patience! I wanted to try and make this all these things...slow, gentle, inevitable...soft...so hopefully it is. Also tried this in first person…but third-person pov here if you prefer

Kara ponders the possibility of other worlds and Lena in her arms ... or Kara and Lena falling in love in all dimensions of time and space and matter.

----

There are many other worlds.

I do not know them all.

I cannot count them all.

The ones I can count, I count over and over, sliding them through my fingers in endless repetition.

Careful I have not forgotten anything — missed anything.

Each has its own colors, its own gravity, its own time.

Some spin up, and some spin down. Some, I beg, might spin backward to the beginning again and again and again.

There is a universe they never died in.

There is a universe we never met.

There is a universe that is crueler and perhaps one that is kinder.

There is a universe where you still hate me and perhaps one where we got to love each other sooner.

Sometimes, I lose myself to the gravity between them — the space between them.

I make company with the ghosts and the stars and the memories all covered in the dust of lost planets and lost love and lost chances.

I slip back to my own world, my own heart, my own ghosts.

Down, in, back.

In another universe, the sun is still red.

But this one is bright yellow.

In another universe, you're lying alone — so am I.

But in this one, we're not.

We're lying together. Our bodies sticking together. A thin sheet barely covering us. I am watching the tiny dots of sweat collect on your skin.

I pull myself away from you, and the loss of contact leaves goosebumps on my arms even though I cannot feel them. Slowly, I pad over to the window and open it all the way.

The sky is dark and dotted with stars.

The air is still and heavy, but at least it's cool.

"Come back," you say softly behind me, holding out your hand.

I move back across the room and slide under the sheet.

Down, in, back — to you.

In another world, you're lying alone — so am I.

But in this one, we are not.

In this one, I'm tracing nonsense shapes on your skin just to feel you under my fingertips.

In another world, we're strangers. In another, we're enemies. In another, we pass each other on the street without a second glance.

How many times have we met? How many times have we fallen apart? How many versions of you and me have touched each other like this?

Hated. Doomed. Loved. Lost. Found.

I am dizzy from trying to contain us all in this one room — under this one sheet.

I cling to you tighter to stop myself from spinning.

Just your skin and mine, just your heartbeat and mine.

I kiss the outside of your hip, the inside of your thigh, the back of your knee.

I lay my head on your stomach and wrap my arms around your body.

I kiss the hollow between your breasts, my thumb tracing softly underneath."

"Kara?"

You hum my name quietly, threading your fingers through my hair.

I pause, careful I do not miss anything.

"mmhm?"

You tangle your legs in mine beneath the sheets. "Tell me how it happened. How we got here."

A smile, a little bittersweet, tugs at the corners of my mouth and into you.

You pull me up the length of your body, your hands gentle but insistent on my shoulders, my hips. I kiss my way back to you, shedding the infinite possibilities of a thousand different worlds on my way.

Down, in, back…here with you.

You sigh, tilting your head so I can reach more of you.

I press soft kisses along your collarbone, up the column of your neck, behind your ear.

Slowly, softly, unhurried. Making up for lost time and lost chances — even if they are not ours.

"I don't think it was ever a choice — in this universe at least."

[solchle]

!! Small announcement about this vlog !!

hello guys HIII gosh i dont usually do text post like this but i just really need to get this out of my chest for a while now /what a way to start the post,, (im really sorry my English is not my first language i just need to post this because it is bothering me)

i dont think im still gonna make content about dhmis like used to, it feels slowly like a chore now to me :( im sorry for the lack of post these past days, and now that i have this post out i think I better start posting about what i feel i want to draw. DHMIS was a blast, its a big interest of mine and it had a big impact on my life, thank you thank you so much for sticking around this blog, the community was so inviting and the people inthis fandom are the sweetest! this is Tumblr so archiving all post has no use but ill just put it out that I wont probably still post dhmis from now on. OH but you can still expect me to be around on this app, it will be mostly still art that i want to make for myself hehe :>

thank you for listening my rant! i would have this deleted soon and im planning to make another account so things could be organised for me (ill update soon!!). THANK YOU FOR REACHING THIS FARR i do have different interest atm so i will mostly post fanart on what i desirehehe! ihave a small introduction on my site you could check it out!!

[666writingcafe]

Uh-Oh

Simeon

I originally wasn't even supposed to come to the Devildom. That responsibility got bestowed on one of the remaining seraphim, but they flat out told Michael that they didn't want to spend any time with demons and that this invitation of Lord Diavolo's was a ploy for him to seize control over the Celestial Realm. It wasn't until all the other seraphim rejected the idea of going that I was offered the job, and even then Michael wasn't too keen on sending me down here. For one, I'd have to take Luke with me so that he wasn't left unattended. The main thing, however, is that he's afraid that seeing the brothers will prompt me to misbehave, and I'm already on thin ice as it is due to my actions during the war. Of course, I assured him that everything would be fine and that I'd conduct myself properly during my stay in the Devildom.

I'm beginning to regret making that promise. But not because of the brothers.

No, it's that damn attendant of theirs, Zephyr.

It's possible that they're using both their looks and charm to lead me astray, but if that were the case, I'd feel like their attempts would be more deliberate and pointed. As far as I can tell, they're simply doing their job ensuring that our stay in the Devildom is as comfortable as possible. I don't think they even realize what they're doing to me, which makes the idea of them manipulating me that much more unlikely.

So why am I feeling this way towards them?

I head down to the kitchen to grab something to drink for Luke, hoping that the task would distract me.

But no. As soon as I enter, I notice Zephyr standing at the counter, chopping vegetables. Trying my best to ignore their presence, I head over to the refrigerator and begin rummaging through it.

"Can I help you?" they ask a couple minutes later, causing me to jump and nearly drop the bottle I have in my hand.

"Well," I respond once I've calmed down. "Luke was feeling thirsty, so I was looking for something for him to drink, but I'm not sure what's safe."

"Let me see what you have." I close the refrigerator door and turn around so that I'm facing Zephyr. "That's a bottle of wine. Probably not the best thing to give to a child. If you'll give me a moment to finish what I'm doing, I'll whip you both something safe to drink."

"Thank you." I stick the bottle back in the fridge. "You're proof that there are some very kind demons out there."

Father, what am I thinking?!

Thankfully, Luke is in our room, or he'd be chewing me out for saying that, and rightfully so. The whole thing might just be an act, part of a scheme to trick me. They might even be putting a curse on me at this very moment.

So why do I feel certain that they're not planning on doing that to me?

"Everything alright?" Zephyr asks, forcing me back into the present moment.

"Yeah," I answer. "I was just zoning out a bit, that's all." They don't seem to buy my lie, but they're also not pressing me further about it, so I suppose I'll take that as a win.

"I'm actually glad you decided to stop by. I'd like you to taste something for me."

Great. This is what I get for being too trusting.

"Don't worry, Simeon. I haven't tampered with it." They've sensed my concern. "Even if I wanted to, there simply isn't enough time to put an angel-specific curse on it and still have everything ready for dinner at a reasonable time. Plus, I don't like a spoiled meal."

I mean...they have a point.

"What is it?"

"I've made a dessert from the Celestial Realm. I figured it would help you guys feel more at ease here if you were able to eat something you recognized at least once during your stay. I'm just not sure if I've prepared it right or not. It's currently chilling in the fridge."

I'm not sure how I missed the giant container of angel pudding before, but I grab it and set it on the counter. Zephyr grabs me a spoon, and I scoop a little of the pudding out and stick the dessert in my mouth.

It's...wow. The only words that come to mind that are close to describing how good this pudding is are in Old Angelic, and there's no way Zephyr's going to understand any of them.

However, I must have a pleasant enough look on my face for them to be satisfied.

"I'm glad you like it," they tell me as they put the pudding away. "I've been taking lessons with Barbatos." That explains some of it. He's regarded as one of the best bakers in not just the Devildom, but in all of the three realms.

But in order for him to be a successful teacher, there has to be some natural talent in his student, which Zephyr clearly has.

The soft smile they give me makes me feel like my stomach's doing flips, making me remember why I was nervous to be around them in the first place.

This is going to be a long visit.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[madhatterbri]

Deal | D.P. Part 2

Summary: Thank u for taking my request for Deal. I loved it! Are u able to do a pt 2 where Damian confronts Liv to warn her once and for all to back off or else but she doesn’t & that’s when reader attacks her from behind. If not that’s okay:) Thank u again!

Author's Note: I'm glad you liked it. ❤️

Requested by anon

Damian Priest Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @plentyoffandoms @mrsarcherofinfamy @brideofinfamy

The working relationship with Damian was interesting. She followed behind him whenever he called for her. A cloak dawned on her head and body to keep everyone away from her. The locker room was spooked by Uncle Howdy's faction. He wanted to keep it that way.

One day, he would like to gain other disciples, but for now, he was happy with his followers. The band of misfits that were now a part of his little family. Uncle Howdy was especially happy with Y/N. Her past with Liv Morgan afforded him a rare opportunity at a shot for the championship. She was specifically instructed to watch for Damian's weaknesses to use against him for when the time came.

"You don't.... talk much, do you?" Damian asked her. He noticed that she wouldn't speak. Only followed orders, whether it be his or Uncle Howdy.

"I talk when I must," Y/N answered.

"All right, great, listen. She is still interfering with Judgment Day business. I need you to remind her what happens if she keeps putting her nose where it doesn't belong. You understand?"

Y/N nodded and stepped away. Damian turned around, but she was gone. He sighed and rubbed his head on frustration. It was tricky to work with someone who did a complete 180 of who they used to be. Hopefully, he didn't make a mistake in picking her.

Damian ran into Liv after she made another pass at Dominik. The current leader of Judgment Day knew he had to put a stop to this once and for all.

"Yo, Liv, can we talk?" Damian asked. Liv stopped and smiled at him. They faced each other. "This stuff gotta stop. One way or another,"

"Daddy doesn't tell me to stop," she giggled and crossed her ankles. She bit her lip flirtatiously. "And he is a big enough man to tell me what he wants,"

"Stay away from him if you don't want any trouble," he threatened.

"Trouble? Do you mean with Y/N? I beat her ass so hard she left with an injury. She came back, and now she is in a weird cult. I think I will take my chances with her," she laughed and stepped inside the locker room. Liv set her belt down and started to get ready for her match. The lights suddenly turned off.

Liv wasn't sure what was going on. A kendo stick suddenly broke over her head. A loud scream filled the room. The kendo stick came down on her relentlessly until the holder found it useless.

The stick was replaced with bumps and punches. A few well placed kicks even connected to her.

"Knock it off. What is going on in here?" Adam Pierce yelled. The light turned on to reveal Y/N. "Get out of here!"

Y/N smiled and lowered her cloak. She looked down at the injured Liv Morgan. The injured woman whined and gripped her shoulder. She could taste her revenge and she wanted to enjoy it.

"See ya, Liv Morgan,"

[fallinginvictus]

do you have any wips at all for the time loop au? 🙏🙏

WIP Wednesday Andrew & Aaron Time Loop AU

I haven't had time to write lately so I only have a tiny little bit of the first part of chapter 3 and I'm not actually sure that's how it's going to stay when I actually post the whole chapter but I'll post anyways.

part one

part two

tw: character death, suicide, mention of drug abuse, Tilda, suicidal thoughts

“You're a parasite,” his mother had told him once when he was five, her head resting on the couch, her black eyes staring at the ceiling, her clouded mind lost in the high. “You suck everything out of me and then still expect me to give you more of my love.”

Aaron stood there for a second, his puffy little hands holding tightly onto the drawing he had been trying to show her, the mother he had drawn staring lovingly at him, the mother in real life taking a puff of her cigarette, her eyes never leaving the ceiling, never looking at her son.

“I just wanted to give you the gift that I made you,” he tried to defend himself with a pout on his lips, hoping his mother would want to look at it, look at him. Hoping she would smile and thank him for his thoughtfulness, for his kindness. Hoping she would acknowledge his existence.

“I just wanted,” his mother repeated mockingly, grey smoke slithering out of her lips. “That's all you do, Aaron. You want and you want and you want and you never once think about how much you take from people. As long as you get what you want you are willing to suck me dry.”

“I-I wasn't asking to take anything,” he said softly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I just wanted to give you a gift to make you happy.”

At those words his mother's gaze finally turned towards Aaron, her black eyes looking straight through him.

“To make me happy?” she scoffed before extending her long, pale fingers towards him. “Show me then.”

Aaron hesitated for a second, his hold on his precious drawing getting tighter, the paper wrinkling in his hands.

“Come on now,” his mother tilted her head, a grin painted on her thin lips, her coral-red lipstick a little smudged. “You wanted to show me my gift, so show me my gift.”

Aaron stepped forward, a spark of hope lighting inside of his chest, the drumming of his own heart echoing in his ears, a little smile forming on his lips as he carefully handed the drawing to his mum. He had worked on it for hours that morning while she was busy getting high, he had picked his best colours and tried his hardest to stay inside the lines. It was a drawing of his mum and Aaron holding hands, big and happy smiles drawn on their faces, colourful butterflies were dancing all around them and a big yellow sun was shining on the top-right corner of the page.

“This is me and you,” he said as he shily pointed towards the two stick figures on the paper and then he placed a kiss on her cheek, his soft lips meeting the hardness of her cheekbone, his warm hands gently holding onto her cold shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“You made this just for me,” she said, arching a perfectly trimmed brow.

“For my mummy,” he nodded while smiling at her. “A gift to make you happy.”

“Oh, to make me happy you say?” she chuckled. Her tone made Aaron take two steps back and he stumbled a little when his naked feet got tangled in the black carpet. His mother's eyes were cold, the black of her pupils drowning the light brown of her eyes, none of the softness that he sometimes saw in them was visible.

“Yes I-”

“So you didn't give it to me so that I could thank you and tell you how good you are?”

Aaron didn't reply. He hadn't made her the drawing to get compliments but a part of him had still hoped for them, had hoped to hear nice words and receive warm smiles. Had hoped for warmth and love, for attention.

“See Aaron?” she said, her eyes burning holes into his skin. “You pretend to be such a lovely boy who only wants to please others but you can't fool me, I'm your mother. I know you like nobody else does. I put up with it because I love you, but no one else other than me will ever be able to put up with your selfish behaviour, with your endless needs, with your wanting and taking. I can see right through you.”

☆☆

As he lays on his unmade bed, the darkness of his room engulfing his body and his mind, Aaron finally feels light and free, the weight of the sky no longer resting on his shoulders, the cloud of darkness that had for so long engulfed his lungs finally dissipating.

He stays there for a while, staring at the darkness, searching for a crack in his heart, an ounce of doubt in his blood, regret in his mind. He searches thoroughly and critically, every thought gets analysed and pulled apart, every emotion gets dissected and categorised, and only when he's sure that nothing at all has been overlooked he finally gets out of bed, ready to face the final day of his life.

He takes longer than usual in the shower, letting the hot streams of water untangle his muscles, warm his bones. He uses all of his shampoo and conditioner, until there is not one drop left inside the bottles. He lets the water wash over him until it starts to turn cold, until there is no hot water left at all. When he finally steps out of the shower, condensation has filled the air and all of the glass surfaces and mirrors are fogged over. Aaron prefers it that way, he doesn't want to look at his face, doesn't want the reminder of what he's leaving behind. Of who he's leaving behind.

When he looks at his phone it's thirty-two minutes past seven in the morning and Aaron's heart stops beating for a few seconds: Andrew had called him five times.

A few seconds later it rings again, the phone vibrating in his hand as the ringtone fills the air, covering the sound of his now racing heart.

“What? Is something wrong?” Aaron asks as soon as he picks up the phone, worry crawling under his skin and spreading throughout his body, rooting him to the ground. Andrew would never call him of his own free will, he would never contact him unless something had gone terribly wrong.

“Are you still clean?” is what Andrew says from the other side of the line, his voice sounding strange, strained.

“What?” Aaron's blood turns into ice, freezing his veins. His thoughts drift towards the hospital's supply room, towards what he knows will take place that afternoon. For a second, for a naive and stupid second, Aaron feels touched and warmth tries to melt his frozen veins: maybe Andrew still cares for him, he thinks, maybe he still wants for Aaron to be safe.

“Just answer. Are you still clean?”

“Yes, I am. Almost 10 years.”

“Do you feel like using again?” The question feels like a trick, a trap.

“No,” he says and smiles a little: he doesn't feel like using again but it doesn't mean he won't.

“Good. Don't,” Andrew says before hanging up the phone.

Once Andrew's voice is gone and only silence can be heard in his empty house, Aaron feels hollow again. He wants to call his brother back, to hear him talk about his day, his week, his life; he wants to tell him about his annoying neighbour and his stupid little dog that barks all day and night and won't let Aaron rest; he wants to go to a café and eat three different types of cakes and discuss with him which one is better; he wants Andrew to trust him and confide in him; he wants to confess his pain and tell Andrew that there is a tiredness in him that won't ever leave him, that drags him down. He wants Andrew to burst through his door and save him. He wants and wants and wants and he hates his mother for being right: he's a parasite that will never be satisfied. Aaron won't suck Andrew and Nicky dry like he did with his mother.

☆☆

When he was thirteen, Aaron discovered that he had a brother, a twin, and something that he thought had long been lost sparked in chest again after years of laying dormant between his ribs: hope.

The whole night he paced around his bedroom, up and down and down and up, his whole body buzzing with that long forgotten feeling, thoughts getting tangled in his brain as he tried to organise them, to make sense of them.

He had a twin brother.

He stood in front of the broken and dirty floor-length mirror at the side of his room and stared at himself for what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than a few minutes: in front of him stood his reflection, dark circles under his eyes, hollowed-out cheeks and sharp cheekbones, rosey lips and messy blond hair. Soon enough there wouldn't just be a mindless reflection standing in front of him, but a real-life human with feelings and thoughts, a brother that looked just like him, a twin that had once been part of him, with whom he had shared the first nine months of his life.

He walked towards his desk and ripped a page from his chemistry notebook. He stared at it for a while, thinking about what he should write. He knew he was an unlovable child, he knew his personality was unlikeable and his mere presence exhausting; he wasn't friendly and he wasn't funny, he was neither sweet nor cute and he had never once been good at making friends, but he was desperate, the need to make a good first impression was burnings in his veins.

He picked up a black-ink pen. He had stolen it from one of his classmates, it was new and expensive, the gel ink rich and deep.

Five different times he began to write his letter and five different times he ripped out the page, his hands shaking, his breaths getting erratic. Aaron had never been a writer, had never liked reading, had never cared about literature, often falling asleep during Mr. Jackson lessons and now he could do nothing but curse at himself for such oversight: he didn't want his brother to think of him as an illiterate idiot who couldn't string two sentences together.

Aaron had never felt more dumb than he did on that Thursday evening as he tried his best to present himself as someone that Andrew could love, someone that was worthy of love.

☆☆

“You look happy today Doctor Minyard,” is the first thing he hears when he walks in front of the nurses station. “Did something good happen?”

Aaron smiles at Nurse Mary, “Just a good day,” he shrugs. Maybe it is a lie or maybe it isn't, Aaron isn't sure anymore.

The day passes slowly and then all at once, a strange feeling buzzing under his skin, electricity licking up his veins. He wonders if it's anticipation or dread, joy or sadness. He wonders if maybe it's a mixture of every emotion that he has ever felt throughout his life. It had been so long since he had felt so much and so strongly; it had been so long since he had felt something other than emptiness and loneliness for a prolonged period of time. He can't decide whether he enjoys the feeling or if he despises it.

He feels guilty as he walks towards the supply room: all around him are those afflicted by unimaginable sicknesses and pains and every day and every night they fight as hard they can to keep their lives: they hold on tightly onto a thin rope that is on the brink of snapping, their knuckles white, their hands bloody, their muscles aching from the strain. And here Aaron is, forfeiting his life as if it means nothing.

The keypad beeps four times, short and loud, and then a third time as the door opens. Aaron takes a deep breath as he steps inside and closes the door behind himself, the dim light inside the small room casting shadows on his face, the stale air making him feel as if he's going to suffocate at any moment. There's a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and a slight shake overtakes his hands as he tightly grips the glass vial. He stops for a second as the syringe sinks into the grey rubber stopper, his laboured breaths the only sound inside the quiet room.

There is a second after Aaron sinks the syringe in his body where flashes of Nicky's warm smile and Andrew's concerned face dance behind his eyelids, a moment where he could change his mind, put the syringe away and walk out of that room alive. But the faces disappear as quickly as they had appeared, smothered by the knowledge that he would only suck them dry, that his wants and needs would only ever hurt them. No matter how hard he tries to keep his wants sealed inside of his chest, beneath his ribs, Aaron knows that they would always find a way to escape. He's a parasite, his existence would only ever bring pain to those around him.

He pushes the morphine in his veins.

That morning he had told Andrew that he didn't feel like using again and while it had been true it hadn't been the full truth. Aaron had long since learnt that a drug addict could never stop being a drug addict. He could get clean and he could stay clean, but the addiction would never fully leave him, a part of him would always crave the drugs, the high, like a broken bone that had never healed quite right and would ache when it rained and when it snowed.

When the morphine finally makes its home in his veins, Aaron welcomes her like an old friend. He lets himself feel the euphoria as it rushes through his body and down his veins, as it reaches his every cell. His body goes limp and he slumps against the wall, the syringe slipping from his fingers. Aaron had forgotten what happiness felt like but as he lays on the snow-white hospital tiles, he thinks he has finally found it again. Maybe drugs, he ponders, had been his only real friends.

His brain goes numb after a while, a dense fog making its way inside of his mind, clouding his thoughts, blurring his vision. His body feels heavy and he lets it fall to the ground, the sound of his head forcefully hitting the ground echoing inside of the silent room. Aaron doesn't even notice. Nothing hurts anymore, the constant and unbearable ache that is his loneliness now hidden inside of the dense fog that is clouding his brain.

Why couldn't you make me just a little lovable, Aaron asks God as he falls into darkness. Why do I always have to be alone?

[peaxhxhair]

Hi!! First off, I hope you're doing well! :) Just wanted you to know you inspire me a lot, your writing is admirable <3

Onto the request (can be an oneshot or headcanons! no preference, go with what you want!), how do you think Venture would treat a sensory overstimulated FTM!reader? I know for sure they would respect him and treat him like he wants to be treated in that moment, being there for him OR leaving him alone, if he wants to. Personally, I think they would try to talk him through it (that actually helps me a lot!), letting him vent or distracting him with their excavation stories in a sweet, low voice... jwhwhwjshs I love them so much

If you don't want to write it, it's okay!! Hope you have a good day/night <3

Pairing: Sloan Cameron x FTM!Reader Warnings: Binders, mentions of claustrophobia, sensory overload / sensory overstimulation. Word Count: 1.3k A/n: AHHHH I LOVE YOU!!! I'm gonna give you a little kiss on the forehead ahhh!! <3 Thank you for the request!

I've really gotten into doing head-canons with little drabbles in the middle, so that's what I decided to do here! Hope you enjoy!! <3

Navigation Overwatch - MASTERLIST Consider becoming a Member! <3

The Background

Let's say you work within the wayfinder society with Sloan.

Maybe you two started your apprenticeships at the same time.

Being similar ages, the two of you got along like a house on fire.

It was nice, speaking to someone your age.

~~~

You figured out your identity at around 16 years old - right as you accepted into your apprenticeship into they Wayfinder Society.

It was difficult - telling everyone you knew to change their view of you.

Well, it wasn't hard for you - but it was hard to make them understand.

You tried, but if the words you said to them didn't stick - then they just didn't stick.

You preferred to focus on yourself, rather than on what other people thought of you.

It was easy for you to deal with the silent disagreement with your identity.

You focused on your apprenticeship - moving to live close to their main base.

All on your own.

~~~

Meet-Cute

Meeting Sloan was well - a little chaotic, as one would imagine.

They had found you cutting your hair, with the bluntest scissors on earth.

You had finally been given a chance to work with archaeologists, so obviously you wanted them to view you as you saw yourself.

Or at least...Make a good impression.

It had been a while since you had cut your hair...

You family weren't exactly into the idea of you cutting your hair short.

~~~

"Woah, hey there!" You startle slightly at the sound of an extra person in this bathroom. It was lucky that the scissors you had acquired were the worst - so you didn't end up cutting any hair off of your head unintentionally. You were surprised to see someone your age when you looked to the left.

"Uh...Hey?" The look on their face was concerned, and slightly scared, even as you regarded them. Maybe it did look a little crazy - the fact that you were cutting your hair in the sink of a public bathroom. But hey, desperate times.

You observed them as the two of you stared at each other. Dirt on their face, long beige over-coat, pride pin secured to their front pocket.. Oh hey! You knew that flag!

It seemed like when you noticed their pin, they had noticed the trans flag pin you had secured to your backpack - which was still on your back despite being hunched over the bathroom sink. You both stared at each other in recognition - before they grinned at you.

"You uh... need some help with that?"

~~~

Their offer to help cut your hair was weird - but they did give you a sick ass haircut.

The idea of it made you slightly nauseous at first, but you did end up grateful that they were good at cutting hair.

…Better than you were anyway...

They introduced themself as Sloan, and you told them your name.

It felt weird, having someone actually call you by the name you told them.

In a good way, of course.

Since that day, the two of you spent every day together - and quickly became close. They were there for you through everything - as were you with them. The good, the bad and the ugly.

~~~

Sensory Overload

Since graduating from your apprenticeship with the Wayfinder Society, the two of you had travelled around the world.

Sloan was very opposed to taking days off - since they enjoyed their job so much.

You sometimes struggled to keep up with their enthusiasm.

By no means did you hate your job - you knew that you wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

But...Everything was.. loud, and touching you.

Having to hold heavy machinery - hear the sounds of drilling - feel the dirt against your skin.

Sometimes it got to you.

~~~

You felt nauseous. Overwhelmed by the constant noise and heat - the goggles over your eyes making you feel claustrophobic. Your fingers shifted against the drill in your hands, and you tensed, immediately feeling more uncomfortable than you had been before.

The overwhelming need to stop sensing anything was the only thing you could focus on. Too. Much. Everything. You were in a bit of a difficult place to just, stop sensing anything. So, you kept drilling - pushing through the ache in your chest that made you want to just, drop everything.

The wayfinder society had decided that travelling to the middle of nowhere to find an ancient omnium was a good idea. Drilling for something none of you had any idea how to find, was just crazy.

There was so much drilling, and talking. and YELLING. You could hear it echoing through the tunnel you had made. The drill slips from your hands as you lose your focus - clanking against a rock as it falls onto the ground. Your first thought was to leave - but you hated the thought of moving. Feeling your clothes against your skin. It made you feel sick.

You slump onto the floor - shutting your eyes and covering your ears with your hands. An attempt to block out the noise. You could feel the fabric of your binder digging into your skin - making you chest feel tighter than it already was. There was a lump in your throat - and a pain in your jaw that you tried to suppress. You couldn't cry. You have no reason to.

~~~

Sloane is a very nosy person - I think everyone knows that.

On expeditions like this, Sloane would probably come and check on you.

Maybe they'd help you out, or show you a cool rock they had found.

In this scenario, they had found a geode when digging a tunnel of their own, and had come to show it to you.

Though, when they find you curled into yourself in a corner, they have an idea of what's going on.

It wasn't like this was the first time it has happened.

There had been a few times in the past where you had gotten overstimulated like this at work.

Every time was slightly different, but they knew what to do now.

~~~

"Hey dude! Look at this geode I found" Sloane calls as they wander down the tunnel you had dug. They weren't far enough in to spot you just yet, though when they didn't hear a response from you, they grew concerned.

Sure enough, when they reached the end of the tunnel, they spotted you hunched over - your knees pulled to your chest as you attempted to block out any noise. It doesn't seem like you notice them at first, only flinching slightly as Sloane takes a seat in front of you.

The first time they had found you like this - they had sat with their legs out-stretched. It hadn't been a big deal at first, until you had sat the same way - pressing the bottom of your shoes against theirs. You had explained at one point that it was somewhat grounding...To know that they were there.

So, Sloane sits the way they always do - giving you that invitation. They fish something out of their bag, pulling out a pair of soundproof earmuffs. You don't notice at first - due to your eyes being firmly shut. So they place them over your ears for you, having to tug your hands from your ears with the sleeves of your shirt.

~~~

They hate sitting in silence. But they'll do it for you.

They'd do anything for you.

It's a while before you open your eyes - blinking away the tears that had formed.

You prop your feet against Sloane's, and they grin happily at you.

The earmuffs were definitely helping - as you couldn't hear the sound of drilling anymore.

Having finally looked at them for the first time in what felt like hours - Sloane pulls out the geode they had found.

They crack it open, showing you the inside.

A beautiful Amethyst geode.

Having them show you that distracted you from yourself - from what you were feeling.

You were grateful for Sloane.

You always had been.

[onskepa]

Hii can u write a mama Kataru fic? Lets say she survives the rda attack on her clan and a nomad clan takes her in and she goes to live with them. She thinks her kids are dead and doesnt know the rda took them. So after years of being with this clan they return to the area and rumors of a human resistance that has taken in some sarentu kids reach their ears and she goes to see if its true. And there she reunites with her daughter.

Thanks in advance!

helloooooooooooo~!! Oh mah goooooooosh!! This I can see happen in so many directions! And I chose a good path for this one, enjoy~!

----------------------

Silpey

“Aha’ri, I understand you are upset. But you have to face the fact that your mother left you” Mercer says, trying to sound brave but fear hinted in his voice. Merely a child yet standing taller was ever so brave Aha’ri. Grabbing his wrist tightly, hate and disbelief in her eyes. 

“LIAR!” she accuses. 

Her fellow na’vi gasping. That word did not exist in their old forgotten language. 

Aha’ri remembers. She was young at that time. Gaps in her memories but one thing was certain. Her mother loved her, she loves aha’ari and her younger sister silpey. Their mother’s song chord was their treasure, proof of her love. 

Mercer, Cortez, everyone spewed stupid doubts and manipulation in their minds. Aha’ri remained stubborn, still sticking to her belief. 

Sad that she never got to see how true she was.

“Everyone! We have returned!” 

Loud cheers, reunions, hugs, cries of joy, relief all around. The two branches of the traveling Zeswa clan have united once again. The zakru they follow have joined those who lay already. 

Everyone joins, older members meeting young newborns, long time friends catching up, family recalling many good times. Everyone had someone. 

But Kataru had no one. 

Kataru lives with the zeswa but she is sarentu. 

Karatu of the Sarentu has no one to reunite. No one to call family, no one to call her own. 

The sarentu are no more. None have survived the massacre. The once beloved clan, friends to all, story tellers, artisans, musicians, gone. When word spread the ending of the Sarentu, all of Pandora grieved. Many say it was the Yava that took their lives, that a soulless tsahik spread her poison down their throats, or that natural disasters took them all. 

There is only one truth. 

A truth that is still left with many questions. 

And just as there is one truth, there is also one sarentu left. That is what she believes, the last of her clan, her people. 

Kataru, the remaining living Sarentu. Her mark on her cheek to prove it. 

For years kataru has remained hidden among a nomad clan. Keeping herself safe from the sky demons, as well as the hope to find her children who were tragically taken from her. Her precious children, her darling daughters. 

Aha’ri and silpey. 

Aha’ri was merely 5 and silpey was still a baby barely forming sentences. How did it go wrong? Where did it go wrong? 

For years Kataru was haunted by so many questions, none that she could find the answer to.

“Kataru '' Minang, the Tsahik of the Zeswa clan, calls the na’vi in question. 

Kataru greets the leader, both acknowledging each other. “How may I assist you Tsahik?” she asks softly. A few minutes ago kataru was summoned to see Minang in the leader’s hut. She prefers to hide in the background, not gather much attention to herself. So this was a surprise. 

Minang smiles kindly to kataru, placing her hand on the Sarentu’s shoulder. 

“I bring the more wondrous information for you” Minang says. Her smile grew by the second. Curiosity and anticipation grew within katari. Tilting her head to the side, “how so?” Kataru asks. 

“My sister has gone to visit the human resistance, their morals and beliefs align with ours. But kataru, there at their base,  there is a group of na’vi that you would love to meet” 

Kataru shakes her head, confusion taking over. 

“Kataru, you are not alone. There are Sarentu na’vi in the resistance. They survived the massacre” 

Never had kataru fled as fast as she could. Fast she went, beyond the land, beyond what the wind can go. Faster than pali. It was like she summoned great speed to get there by foot. It didn't matter what lands she had to cross, what mountains to climb. Kataru would do it. She would run halfway around the world if she had to. 

The moment Minang told her about the surviving sarentu’s, nothing else mattered. She needed to see them, feel their hands, look at their marks. What little dwindling hope she had all these years, it grew. Fast. 

As kataru runs, she sees flashes of her past. Her clan, her people. Their traditions, her friends, her family, her children. 

All of them. 

Who survived? How did they hide all this time? 

So when every step she took, every sharp edge that pokes her, every scrap or scratch on her, kataru welcomes these slight pains. It tells her, awakens her, that all of this is real. It is not a dream. Not like her false dreams that gave her false hopes. No, this is real, and the sooner she arrives at the base, the sooner this hope will bloom bigger. 

“Kataru? Wait slow down-”  

“I cannot wait any longer!” 

While she should respect the Olo’ykte of the clan that took her in, kataru’s anticipation and impatience took over her judgment. Nesim understood, holding her still as kataru catches her breath. Nesim was amazed how fast she ran, from base to the Zeswa grounds was very grand. 

To not sound so rustic, nesim was kind enough to hand her a pouch of water to kataru. The sarentu drank it gratefully. 

“Is she the other Sarentu you spoke of?” 

A deep male voice was heard behind kataru, turning around and she saw a fit male na’vi. Could be her state of mind, or it could be something else, but looking at the unknown male na’vi, more specifically, his tattoos, they seem oddly familiar. Perhaps from another clan. One she can't recall at the moment. 

“Yes, this is kataru. The only sarentu we have known that survived the massacre” Nesim replies. 

“I am sol’ek, not Sarentu but from another clan completely” Sol’ek greets her with the respectful “I see you” greeting. Kataru doing the same. 

“Is it true…? Are there sarentu here?” kataru asks, little doubt hinting in her voice. 

Sol’ek smiles a bit, “Yes, come, I will lead you to them. They will be very happy to see you” 

Every step felt like a mile to kataru. 

Time slowed, her vision becoming blurry and her heart beating in her head. 

Sol’ek lead her around the base and into a small cave, a bonfire was seen. She can hear laughter, unfamiliar voices, too human like their tones. As she gets closer, she can see 3 na’vi all sitting down around the bonfire. 

Sol’ek steps aside, gesturing to her to go further. “Go, they await for you” he says, and leaves to give them privacy. 

This was it, this was what she was waiting for 32 years. 

Carefully taking her steps, kataru goes deeper, letting the sounds of her footsteps notify the na’vi. One of them did, a young na’vi with short hair, nervous looking while wearing human clothing. Timid he seems, pointing at kataru. 

“Guys….” he tells the others. 

Everyone turns to look at kataru. 

Time froze. 

They all look so young. 

Kataru carefully analyzes their faces. They bear the Sarentu mark. 

A young female na’vi stands up. Fear and hope in her eyes and voice, “Are you…Sarentu…?” she asks. 

Tears leave kataru’s face, nodding “I am”  she answers. 

Soon enough, she was swarmed by the young na’vi, all hugging tightly. More tears were released, cries of sorrow, happiness, relief, everything. Kataru doesn't know if the cries she hears are of her own, or of the others. She traces their marks, the very thing that identifies them as sarentu. 

Never had kataru felt more grateful for Eywa. Her prayers were heard. 

“Another sarentu…..!! I can't believe it!” one of the young male sarentu says inbetween his sobs. 

“We thought we were truly alone,” the young female says. Kataru understands how they feel. She understands their pain. 

After what felt like hours, they all calmed down. Sniffles, hiccups, and few tears still there, but all rapid emotions have since withered down. 

“Tell me your names, my name is kataru” she introduces herself. 

Smiles, each one does the same. 

“I am nor” the oldest male says. 

“I am Ri’nela” the female points at herself. 

The one with the cap on his head looks down, very nervous, “im…Im teylan” he whispers. 

Yes, their faces seem more reconizable now with their names. 

“I remember….you were all babes…Ri’nela..you. You look so much like your mother, you even kept the beads” kataru comments. Seeing Ri’nela’s face, was like a copy of her fallen mother. 

“I do?” Ri’nela asks. Kataru nods. 

“You look so beautiful, I know your mother would have been so proud of you” she goes on. 

Turning, she looks at nor, “and you. I remember your parents would travel between our clans borders to the Kami’tire grounds for trading. You would always come back with some form of scratches” 

Nor blushes but smiles shyly. “I remember vaguely. I remember my father would take me all the time” 

And finally, kataru looks at teylan. 

She cant help but feel sadness for him. He was the youngest among the three. Was a baby when that night happened. 

“Your parents loved you teylan. I remember….when you were born, your father howled loud and mighty. First born, he was proud of you. Your mother would sing you of our peoples prayers to Eywa. You were very much, "Kataru told him. Her voice is soft and soothing. 

Teylan couldn't form words, so he let his actions do the talking. He hugged kataru tightly, afraid to think this was a dream. Since his earliest memory, Teylan was told his people abandoned him, that he wasn't loved. So to hear from another Sarentu, one who spent time out in Pandora, it made him feel things that he never thought he would feel. Genuine love. 

While Kataru is very grateful to see more Sarentu, happy to know where they were, there was still one thing left lingering in her mind. 

Looking at the three Sarentus, she spoke her more dreading, anticipating question. 

“Do….have any of you known of my children? Their names are Aha’ri and Silpey”

Dread. 

Dread, despair, sadness, guilt, regret, rage. 

It was like relieving that terrible night. 

Aha’ri. 

Her bright, clever, wonderful little girl was dead. At the hands of a sky demon. 

Died all because she wanted to go home. She never gave up on the belief that her mother loved her. 

Aha’ri was right. 

Kataru loved her so much it almost hurt. 

Aha’ri loved music, loved to dance, loved to tell stories, loved to be all that she was. A sarentu. Like the past Sarentu Olo’eyktan, aha’ri was brave, Fierce, and protective of others. Especially her young sibling. 

What Kataru would do to see aha’ri alive. To see her with the other surviving sarentu. To see her older, wiser, stronger, and free. Yet the cruel, heartless sky demon called “Mercer” took her life. Her chance. Her future. 

Kataru was never one to hate. Hate was strong, hate was something she viewed negatively. May Eywa forgive her. For now she hates, she hates this mercer demon. To kill a na’vi was evil, but to kill a child? Hate was all she felt for the demon who took everything from her. 

Taking her home, her clan, her children. 

Yet there is still hope. 

Kataru had lost one child, but there is another she so desperately wants to see. Her baby, Silpey. 

From what the others have said, Silpey is traveling to neighboring clans to learn how to be a warrior. How to fight. Sarentu’s were never warriors to begin with. Choosing peace over violence. To balance things over keeping things uneven. 

Tonight she returns. 

And kataru waits for her. 

The others leave the cave to give her privacy. Lighting the bonfire again, she sits patiently. Humming at her old tune. She doesn't have her song chord anymore, but she remembers how it was sung. Yes, kataru remembers her song so well. Singing loud, letting the stone cave walls echo her voice. 

Kataru sings her heart out, feeling happy, yet sad. Too lost in her song, she failed to hear footsteps coming towards her. A voice interrupts her song. 

“Sa’nu?” 

Okie, I put my all in this one. Hope you all like it! Until next time! See ya!

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Silpey: hope (with tsnì in subordinate clause, unless in independent clause)

[jamieedlund]

Thesis wips and April sketchdump! ft. Brainrots I have about Callum and Claudia that if I were to explain it will take an entire novel so instead take these haha funny doodles and I promise I'll elaborate one day.

Some modern AU Shenanigans

(there's description in the images for more contexts)

And some more doodles and comic concepts

This one is special because I really like this concept and I wish to finish it one day I mean look how fun this is. it's some concepts for manga/comic covers I just think it would have been super cool if this was a serialized comic and or manga series, and these could be the covers of 2 back-to-back volumes later into the story, representing their unique holds on each other. Of course it's all symbolism cough cough but reading into it such as the way their expressions changed as they're holding the other person's SEVERED HEAD- might be fun too!

[ryllen]

Look what came through the mail today! The letters & ( •̀ω•́ )σ 3 little gremlins from letterstoear.

Just wanna say i adore the flower stickers on the letters too much, they are that much worth mentioning.