#this turned out so much longer than expected

[a-b-riddle]

Part 7

Can't stop thinking about how the 141 met reader

(she's a long one. not entirely happy with it either so may edit later)

No harm done yet.

You never saw Simon actually hurt anyone. Johnny and Kyle would share stories about poor recruits who fucked around and eventually found out that Simon had no issue beating them within an inch of their life.

You knew he had a reputation and, like the rest of them, had blood on his hands. But it never bothered you. Didn't make you think twice about loving him or seeing him as the protector he had always been to you. To be frank, you could never actually picture any of them being violent.

But his voice... Fuck. His voice. It fucking rattled you. You actually feared for those fucking idiots now. Sure, they deserved to have their asses kicked, but an ass-kicking was probably going to be a welcomed after thought to whatever Simon would do.

You rinsed off, not bothering to wash your hair, but needing to wash up before getting in the bed. Hoping the scalding hot water washed away the uneasiness on your skin that had began to settle into your bones.

Even feeling fresh and laying in clean sheets, you still found yourself tossing and turning wondering exactly what did Simon do?

Did he walk away? Realizing you weren't worth the trouble, did he just tell them to knock it off?

You had stupidly expected Simon to check in. To check if you made it home alright or at least to let you know he was okay. So you waited... And you waited. You had half a mind to call him yourself before remembering it wasn't your place anymore to care. You had cared enough for the five of you.

It was well past two in the morning before you finally called it a night.

The next morning, still nothing from Mr. Riley. Not a 'did you home alright?' or 'are you okay?' text. Nada. Zilch.

Whatever.

Fuck him.

You had to open up shop, but luckily your Saturday mornings were much more relaxed. The shop wouldn't be open until 10, so you had the time to sleep in and enjoy the morning.

By noon, Mere had sent you several texts reminding you that you had promised to go out. You had tried to dissuade her. The encounter with those men last night had brought back sour memories. One involving handsome men coming to your rescue when it was most certainly needed.

You had tried to bail. Giving her any excuse you could: Last night put you on edge. You no longer wanted to go out. After last weekend, you just needed some down time.

Eventually you had realized she was not taking no for an answer after she had shown up to your apartment, already ready for a night out.

"You're not wearing that, are you?" Mere asked. Mere was in her usual Saturday femme-fatal attire. The black leather pants that accentuated her curves and red corset paired well with her freshly box dyed color black hair.

She looked more like a dominatrix than someone who worked at an attorney's office. Even if both professions included bending someone over and fucking them for all their worth. You wondered who would charge more by the hour....

You had pulled out a off white lace square neck top and a pair of high waisted medium washed baggy jeans. A perfectly cute outfit for a night out. Which was your defense when she had suggested you needed to change.

Tab had arrived later than expected (something about a system being down at work), but made up for it by bringing a pre-game snack. Yes, you had officially reached the age where you no longer starved yourself hours before going out to get more drunk quicker and cheaper. No you had to eat carbs or else you wouldn't be able to leave your room the next day as you pathetically nurse a hangover.

Tab wore a denim skirt. If you could even call it that. It paired well with the white tank top that you could make out the shape of her nipple piercing.

But they looked hot. Really hot.

"This is a perfectly acceptable outfit."

"For a day at market, not for trying to get laid."

"I don't want to get laid." You said, rummaging through your closet, yet again. "Getting laid is what got me in this mess in the first place."

A little over two years ago

"Fuck him." Tabitha wrapped her arms around your shaking body as you continued to sob. "He was a prick who didn't fucking deserve you."

"He couldn't even get you to cum." Mere felt the need to remind you as if that would somehow lessen the blow of your heartbreaking into a million shards. The shrapnel feeling like it would kill you.

"I loved him," your voice is small. "I fucking loved him." You had been dating for almost three years. You had his grandmother's ring on your fucking hand for God's sake. "I'm so stupid."

"You are not stupid." Tabitha gave you a squeeze. "He was a liar and a fucking coward." Meredith rubbed her thumb on you bare leg, offering physical reassure. Letting you know even if she wasn't the hugger Tabs was, she was still here.

"You can't keep locked up in this apartment." She was unfortunately right. You had not only barricaded yourself in your apartment for two weeks, but you hadn't returned to your bedroom. The scene of the crime. "You need to get out."

"Yeah," Tabitha rubbed your arm as if trying to coax you out your metaphorical shell. "Get some fresh air. We can go grab a treat. Maybe go out for some coffee." It didn't surprise you that Tabitha was offering a treat to entice you to leaving your sanctuary.

"I was thinking going to a bar." It also didn't surprise you that Mere offered her way of coping. Getting so drunk that you forgot what you even sad about. Or going out and finding someone to fuck the sadness out of her.

"Because getting alcohol in her system in this state is just what she needs." Tabitha was the mom of the group whereas Mere was the fun drunk aunt. They balanced one another out.

"Actually," you said, giving a pathetic sniffle. "Going out would be nice." Getting away from the apartment is what you need. And going out would be the excuse you would need to get yourself all dolled up.

What you hadn't planned for was getting so pissed that you had manage to breakaway from your friends. Searching for them in teh crowd of people. Failing and when you pulled out your phone were met with a completely black screen.

Dead. Perfect.

The same moment you swore the night couldn't get any worse, it did.

He looked the same. Same as he been four months ago when he asked you to become his wife. Same as he had been two weeks ago when you had caught him fucking another girl. The girl he told you not to worry about. The girl he insisted was just one of the guys. A girl you had told him time and time again would fuck him the moment she had the chance.

It wasn't always great to be right.

When your eyes connected, your body had went into immediate flight mode. Every neuron in your body was shooting out signals of RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN. So that's exactly what you did.

You fucking bolted.

Or felt like you bolted. But you could only scurry so fast in chunky heels while simultaneously pulling down your skirt that had decided to ride up. Aching to show your ass for all of London to see.

You had made it a quarter of the way back to your apartment. Your feet aching. Toes pinched together from the strap digging into them.

"Baby, please!" You heard him before you felt his arm clamp down on your shoulder. Hard. When did his touch become something heavy? Something that practically burned you.

You turned. Eyes brimming with unshed tears as you hissed at him to leave you the fuck alone. The begging came, but you turned around. Determined to go home. He didn't deserve the chance to explain himself and he could most certainly shove his apology up his ass.

He wouldn't shut up. Insisting it was a mistake. A one time thing her fault. How she seduced him. As if he were the victim in all of this. You weren't buying it. Not for one moment. One doesn't accidentally invite some slut over and fall balls deep into her while they are in the same bed he shares with his fiancée.

It wasn't until you were in a more dimly lit area that he had gotten the nerve to grab you. His grip was firm on your arms as he held you in place. "Listen to me!" His voice was panicked.

The feeling of anger slowly began to dim as something else began to rise.

Fear.

You were afraid.

You were in a part of town not many people were out and about in at this time of night. No bystanders to really take note of the scene, or at least not any caring enough to stand by and watch; even for entertainment.

Your friends didn't know where you were at and you were tipsy. And alone.

"Cardan," you swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "Please let me go."

"Not until you talk to me," his fingers dug into you. "We can work this out, okay? It was one mistake." He tried to argue, his voice rising, soaked in desperation. "What's one mistake compared to three years?"

"Cardan," you tried to pull away, his grip only tightening. "You're hurting me." It came out as a pathetic whimper. You were so close to crying, too afraid to scream.

"Hey!" A voice barked from behind you. It caused your whole body to stiffen."Get your fucking hands off her. Someone noticed. Someone was here. Someone was here. Someone was here.

"We are having a conversation." Cardan's eyes left you, looking at whoever stood behind you.

"The lass said to leave her be." Another voice. Someone else. Two (three if you counted yourself, but in that moment you couldn't) people against one. There was no a possibility of you getting the fuck out of this situation.

Cardan stood firm. His eyes looking past you. A silent refusal to back down.

"Either you let her go," another voice. Another accent different that the first two. "Or we fucking make you."

"One against four. Odds aren't in your favor, mate." Four. Four men stood behind you. Faceless strangers there to help you.

"This doesn't concern you." Cardan bit out.

"Aye," Scottish. The second guy was definitely Scottish. "I think it does if she's tellin' ye' to piss off and yer bein' a bawbag about it."

"So what'll it be?" The third voice, deep and threatening, yet still so... calming. As if the vibrations from his deep, rich pitch washed over you.

Cardan looked back at you, his eyes not as manic. He realized he didn't have a chance. This was a fight he had to walk away from or else he wouldn't be walking away from it at all. "I'll swing by tomorrow, okay?" He asked.

You couldn't do anything, but nod. Agree that you could talk tomorrow in the safety of the sunlight. Eventually he walked across the street before fading out into the night. Blending in with the shadows.

You turned around to meet your would-be saviors.

Four men. All slightly older than you and so handsome you felt foolish for gawking at them as if this were your first time seeing a man. Hell, maybe it was. At least specimens like this. All of them tall and broad. Towering over you.

No wonder Cardan got the fuck out of there. Tabs was right. He was a coward.

"You alright?" The one who first spoke up asked. You could place his voice. Now just needed to place the other three. He had a hearty mustache and mutton chops. A look on any one else would make you immediately get the ick. But for a moment you wondered if that mustache would tickle... "Do you need us to call anyone?"

You felt your cheeks flush with heat.

"I just want to go home." You said. "Thank you for stepping in. I don't know what would have-" You stopped. Too afraid to think about the possibilities. There was a time you would never believe that Cardan had the ability to hurt you.

There was also a time you believed he would never cheat. You weren't really sure what to believe anymore. "Anyway," you continued. "Thank you again." You turned on your heel before continuing your stride.

You had only made it several feet before you were stopped again. "Which way? One of us can walk you home." You weren't entirely sure. But with a dead cellphone and a unhinged ex probably lurking in the shadows, there was little time to weigh the pros and cons before giving them a general direction of where you lived.

Which just so happened to be the direction in which two of the four lived. The Scot and one of the two who had yet to speak. The first one, who had still yet to introduce himself instructed the two of them to drop you off and let him know you had made it home alright.

You had hoped that the rest of your night would be met with silence, but the Scot couldn't seem to help himself. "I'm Johnny." He introduced. "And the spooky, silent type is Simon." He gave a playful wink. You gave him your name, not wanting to be rude.

"Not my place to ask," he began. "But what was the deal with that fucker? Ex-boyfriend?"

"Johnny." Simon's tone held warning. You appreciated the defense, but frankly didn't care. These were strangers. Who cared what they thought.

"Ex-fiancée," you clarified. "One who decided to fuck another girl in my bed. Not even our bed. My bed."

"Jesus fucking Christ," the Scot swore. "I was right. He was a fucking bawbag." For whatever reason, that made you laugh. For the first time in two weeks you fucking laughed. And it felt like you were breathing again.

Simon was quiet, not contributing to the conversation and just letting Johnny babble. Talking your ear off in a short trek as if it were an olympic sport.

You were so distracted with his voice you hadn't realized how far you had made it until the sound of your keys clattering onto your kitchen counter brought you back.

Back to a situation you didn't know how the fuck you landed in.

Two men (who you don't know) are in your apartment. Your friends don't know where you are. You are a little bit too inebriated to plan and exit strategy. Doesn't exactly help your confidence in fighting them off since they are built like fucking brick houses.

"He won't come sniffin' around here botherin' ya, will he?" Simon asks, speaking for only the second time since he had threatened Cardan. You shake your head.

"No," you said. "I have him blocked on everything. So I think when he saw me tonight it was just kind of an opportunity, I suppose?" You offer. Cardan had showed up to your place one time with a random assortment of flowers and a useless apology you had to hear through the door as you covered your mouth. Concealing your cries. Too afraid to let him know you were there.

Too afraid that some part of you would be weak enough to take him back.

"We'll leave ye' be." Johnny said, nodding his head toward the door. "But if he comes bein' a shite to ye again, you can give us a call."

"Phones dead." You explain, holding up your phone as if you needed to prove yourself. Johnny offered the brilliant, yet simple solution of giving him your number. He sent off a text, knowing it would be there when you turned back on and promising to check in later.

They both gave subtle nods of goodbye before turning away.

And just like that, they left. The door clicking softly shut behind them. You stood, frozen for several beats before walking over and locking the door.

You plugged your phone into the charging cable, waiting until it lit back to life before shooting off a text in your group chat with Tab and Mere.

Sorry I took off. Ran into Cardan and fucking made a dash for it. Sorry if I worried you. I'm at home. I'm okay. Grab lunch tomorrow and we can talk about it? My treat?

You signed off the text with a heart emoji and turned your phone on do not disturb. Too afraid of your friends going all Mama Bear on you for running away while drunk. Even if your reasons were valid.

You had texted Johnny again. Not because Cardan dared to bother you again, but to thank him. Acknowledging that not many men would have done for you what he and his friend did. Johnny assured you it wasn't anything.

Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out with Simon always tagging along. It took you a while to realize he did actually like you, but his stoic nature was just who he was. You had met Kyle and John, both as charming and respectful as Johnny and Simon.

John had been the first two mention wanting to take you on a date. It didn't go well with the other three. They all had the same intention and a rock, paper, scissors tournament seemed to juvenile to figure out who got the privilege in courting you. Eventually, they had decided to ask you.

Putting you on the spot to answer the question that had begun to tear them apart: which one of them will it be?

Johnny made you laugh. He was the first person you thought about calling when your day was a bit grey. He saw the positive in everything and was the one who made you feel like even the bad days weren't so terrible.

Then there was Simon. The one who you felt like was your safe place in body and mind. You would babble all day talking to him, thankful when he would let you rant. Your mind was able to go on auto-pilot in terms of safety because you knew Simon would handle it. He also gave the best hugs.

John was the one who instilled the confidence in you that you needed. Your bookstore, your writing, whatever aspirations you had, no matter how wild, John would support it. Nothing was too big. After you all started dating, he was the first person you ever let read your book. He gave you praise as well as critique, pointing out multiple plot holes and helping you craft it better. And never once taking credit for it, even when it was due.

Kyle was the most thoughtful one. He was the one who knew you liked trying knew things so he made an effort to always make date nights interesting. A new restaurant, a new activity or experience. He was the biggest giver of the group.

So when they did ask you, you answered honestly.

"I can't choose." They insisted that you didn't need to spare their feelings, but you stood firm in your decision. "No. I can't choose. I'm interested in all of you." When they pressed on why the fuck you didn't say anything earlier, you told them to avoid this kind of situation. Where you had to choose. You were fine continuing on as just friends if that meant you got to keep all of them.

Mere and Tabs were great friends, but they are the ones who helped pull you out of the slump. The ones who made you feel lovable. The ones who made you feel like a woman again.

"Helloooooo." Mere's hand waved in your face while another held something she had found in your closet. "So are you going to change or not?" Your eyes darted to the skimpy glittery black dress. The same one for your first date with them. Your stomach twisted as you took the sparkly dark fabric in your hand.

You nodded as if trying to shake the memory out of your mind. "I'll change and we can go." Better just to get it over with.

The place that Mere had dragged you to was a club that played music that you would only listen to while encapsulated in the aroma of cheap liquor and sweat. Your outfit form-fitting. The material too stiff to be comfortable, but it was cute. The hem of your dress coming to rest just below your ass cheeks. Hugging your body in a way that made you feel self conscious the moment you stepped out of your building.

Mere had run into some work colleagues. Names you couldn't and wouldn't remember. There had been a high profile divorce going on. Very messy. She had been so encapsulated by the gossip that she hadn't notice you and Tabitha had slipped off toward the bar.

Tabitha insisted on shots and you needed something to get your mind off the less than exciting night. Your expectations weren't high, but fuck. You would have been much more comfortable wearing the jeans. You felt like a piece of fucking meat. It would have been so bad if someone were gonna buy you a dr-

"This seat taken?" It was a cliche introduction attached to a slightly better than average face. Decent enough where it didn't hurt to look at him, but not attractive enough to be a seat.

"By all means," you said turning back to Tabitha who looked at the guy now sitting to your left and raising her eyebrows. Fucking hell. Not her too.

"It's pretty packed tonight." He commented, attempted to make small talk. You hated small talk. At least unless it came to Johnny who would get into discussion on politics, religion and why on the side was the best way to fuck because it gave him 'a perfect view of the front and back of ye.'

"You come here often?" You asked, not wanting to be a total bitch, but having absolutely zero desire to be entertaining him.

"When I can." He said. "I prefer the Artifact a couple of blocks down. Not many people heard of it. A bit of a hole-in-the-wall place." Oh cool. A fucking hipster who liked to act superior at knowing a place that is underground. You could feel any possibility of getting your pussy wet, dry at the thought of this man actually wanting to come onto you.

Jesus, when did you become so harsh.

I blame Simon.

"Oh," you say, no longer interested in entertaining the conversation. "Sounds lovely. My friend and I just came out for a bit of girl-" you turn to look at Tabitha who had somehow miraculously disappeared in the 45 fucking seconds that your back was turned....

Little bitch.

"Bathroom, I suppose." He laughed. It was the sincerity in his voice that irked you. God, why was he pissing you off just trying to start a conversation?

"I suppose." You gave a soft smile back, turning once the bartender had come over to grab your order. Which the stranger next to you had insisted buying. Nothing quite as arousing as obligated conversation.

"There's no need for that-"

"Percival." He introduced. "But my friends call me Percy." Your immediate thought was who the fuck names there kid Percival. The second was to offer him a fake name. Real enough to be believable, but fake enough where if he tried to search you up on any social media, you could just deny having any.

"I hate to be brash," he started. Then don't. "But I can't imagine a girl like you being single."

"Not really looking for anything romantic at the moment." You say, the first time you've been truthful this entire conversation. Percival leaned in closer, before asking in a low voice that he was doubt trying to convey as sexy, "Are you sure?"

And there it was. The final ick that nailed the coffin shut.

You offered in a soft smile before swallowing hard. "Percival,"

"My friends call me-"

"I'm going to be frank." Your voice is soft, as if explaining to a small child why we don't always get the things we want. "I just got of a very long and deep and meaningful relationship and the idea of being near another man in any intimate or emotional capacity wants me to cause very serious bodily harm to said man."

His expression fell.

"I appreciate your confidence in coming over here and making small talk, but if you're wanting to fuck me or even attempt to be friends, I must inform you that is no only not in the cards, but not in your best interest." You turned, downing the rest of your cocktail.

"Time for a trip to the bathroom myself, I suppose." You stood from your seat, having to readjust your dress.. "Have a good night."

You were washing your hands when a red-faced Mere walked into the bathroom. Tabitha on her heels with a concerned expression.

"What did you do?" Mere asked.

"What are you talking about?" You asked. You had half a mind to ask them why the fuck they pulled a disappearing act after insisting you go out.

"You told Percy you would castrate him?" You looked as if you had been slapped. The pieces falling into place to reveal a totally fucked up puzzle.

"You fucking tried to set me up." You seethed, a finger pointing accusingly.

"Well, fuck, what did you expect me to do?" She asked. "You were sulking."

"Listen to me!" You cried. "I want you to listen to me. I was with them for two years. It hasn't even been two weeks and you're going behind my fucking back and trying to set me up with fucking Percival? How the fuck do you even know him? Do you even know him?" She ignored your last question. How convenient.

"I thought it would be good to get it out of your system." She tried to defend, her pissyness now matching yours. "You always do this. I was just trying to help."

"What do you mean 'I always do this'?" Your eyes turned into slits.

"Why don't we just calm down and-" Tabitha tried to stop the escalation. Mere, very obviously, ignored that cue.

"You get so hung up on a guy, or in this case guys, it takes you fucking weeks to recover." You stare at her. Unsure if she was really comprehending the bullshit that had come out of her mouth.

"I'm certain you aren't trying to make me feel bad for grieving a relationship that I was in for over three years to a man I was engaged to. To find him fucking in my apartment, in my bed the same week I was going to get my wedding dress."

"It's not just Cardan," she went on. "Issac in our second year of school?" You gave a humorless chuckle.

"Oh yes," you said condescendingly, "the boy I had dated from 14-years old- until I was 19. The boy I gave my virginity two months before he told me he was not only not interested in me, but women in general." As if that somehow lessened the blow. "Absolutely shouldn't have bothered me a bit."

"You only went out for classes and food for two months!" She said as if you had hit a pedestrian with your car. As if you were a fool for being so distracted by a breakup you couldn't be bothered to carry on with life as normal.

"I'm sorry that I actually take the time to grieve my relationships." You said. "I forgot that it may be hard for either of you to comprehend what a relationship is like considering the only relationship either of you have is with your work or with each of us."

"Hey!" Tabitha said. "I understand your pissed, but there isn't need to attack us like this."

"Attack you?" You asked. "Attack you? This isn't me attacking you. This is me responding to an uncomfortable situation that you put me in. I told you I didn't want to even think about me. I didn't want to fuck someone else and you go and do this?"

"He seems like a decent guy." You roll your eyes.

"Probably why he's not your type, right?" Mere crossed her arms over chest. Eyebrow arched as if she were hoping the words enticed you to realize that you had a history of going after the wrong guys.

Unfortunately, it did not.

You sucked on your teeth, carefully choosing your words before World War III broke out in a nearly vacant bathroom in South London. You took a deep breath. Calming yourself as best as you could.

Before saying fuck it and letting it loose.

"Just because your idea of coping is getting drunk and fucking someone you plan on never speaking to again, quite literally discarding them like trash, doesn't mean the rest of us cope the same way." You hoped it hurt. You hope it stung the same way she had tried to sting you.

You had hoped that your word would be the final blow before both sides called a treaty.

"You mean like they did you?"

And just like that, you heart stuttered. A rapid dum dum dum in your chest as it had been tripped up by her words. The truth in them heavy. The shift in the air was almost immediate;.

"Sweetheart-" Tabitha had tried to reach out before you jerked away.

"Enjoy your night." You said, grabbing your purse where you had left it by the sink. "I'm going to go home and wallow in my self pity." You exited the bathroom, hearing your named called again before shifting it into gear and getting the fuck out of there.

Weaving through the sea of bodies like water flowing around rocks.

Who the fuck cares if you want to cry? To grieve? To be angry? To get closure? To move on? Who cares if you don't want to be the girl who gets her heart shattered and not fuck somone else? Who wants to feel the comfort of a familiar body, a touch that feels safe one last time before you go back into a world where you will only be touched by a stranger?

It didn't matter that you were the one to breakup with them, even if the relationship was broken. It's foundation cracked.

What did matter is that the people who should have supported you and in the way you were dealing with your loss in your own way, didn't. And that's the part that they seem to forget. It is a loss. It's mourning someone who hasn't died. Someone who is still living, yet still no longer there.

"Off already?" Percy cut in the way, blocking your escape. You weren't in the mood.

"Listen-" you started before he cut you off.

"Not anything romantic, I know," he raised his hands as if in defense, "but maybe like another drink or a dance?"

You closed your eyes, wanting to hold off starting a scene and tearing him a new asshole. "Like I said, not. interested." How much clearer could you spell it out?

"Come on." He said, his hand coming to rest on your hip. The grip on it weak. You were by no means the type of woman that could take on a man like the ones you still held in a chamber of your heart. But you could most certainly handle your own against Percival. "I'm asking for a dance. After what Meredith told me, I figured you'd be down for at a little more than that."

"I don't follow." Your blood ran cold. Your heart praying that any assumptions that were running through your mind were wrong, they were wrong.

"She mentioned you having a group of like guys you fucked, but stopped fucking." He shrugged, offering a coy smile that you ached to wipe off with the back of your hand. "I don't judge. It's kind of hot honest. Did they run train or-" You felt it then. His hand had traveled from your hip to the curve of your ass.

And you froze. You froze like a coward. Too afraid to speak or scream. Too ashamed to push him away, cause a scene.

But you didn't need to do any of that.

In an instant, Percy's hand was off of you. It took you a moment to realize that a figure dressed in black stood beside you. Your own personal grim reaper.

"Put him go!" You pleaded, breaking out of your trance. You took hold of his arm putting all of your body weight on his arm, trying to break his hold. He didn't falter.

You could handle you own against Percy.

But Simon could fucking kill him without breaking a sweat.

You looked at Simon's face. His eyes were darkened. The soft brown you had once loved staring into were now almost black. You could even make out the dark circles, even in the unsettling flickering of strobe lights in the club.

"You touch her again and I'll slit your fucking throat. Understood?" Pure venom fell from Simon's lips, but you knew he wasn't lying. Simon was the type of man who didn't say something he didn't mean.

You knew that all too well.

Percy choked out an ineligible, gurgled response as Simon's hand held firm on his throat. "He understands, goddammit, no let him down!" You ordered hitting at him as if it would stop him. "Simon, please!"

It was only when you said his name, did Simon loosen his grip. Letting Percy drop to a heap on the floor before he started a having a coughing fit, trying to suck in as much air as he could.

Simon looked down at you and the exit before scooping you up and hauling you over his shoulder like a sack of flower.

You wanted to die. You wanted to crawl in a hole and die and never show your face again.

"Get in the car." He at least had the decency to open the door for you. Simon wasn't a flashy man, by any means, but he was still a man. A men did love their cars.

He stood, waiting for you but you didn't move. You glared up at him. He had carried you out of there in the most humiliating way possible. You had to fight against the hemline of your dress or else everyone would have gotten an eyeful.

Hand still on the door, he leaned down, getting closer and closer to your height. "You get your ass in this car right now," his breath warm against your ear. "Or I'll have you over my fuckin' knee." His tone was sharp. It wasn't seduction in form of a threat. It wasn't even a threat.

It was a promise.

"We're over." You reminded.

"Do you think that'll fuckin' stop me from spankin' some sense into your bratty ass?"

"It doesn't give you the right to fucking do that to people, Simon!" You huffed. "You could have killed in."

"Could have," he agreed. "But didn't. You're welcome." he nodded toward the car. "Now, in you go or I'll do it here. You already know I don't mind an audience."

The heated seats were a bit to warm for your liking against your bare ass. The tension in the air was uncomfortable. Your hands ached to touch the radio. Anything to stop the silence between the two of you.

"I got home fine the other night by the way." You said, looking out the window, hoping to make him feel like shit for not checking in like he should have.

"I know you did."

"What do you mean you know I did?" You asked, turning to look at him. He shrugged as if it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not stopping.

"Just did." Was his only answer.

"Are you fucking stalking me, Riley?" That made him laugh. You would have felt better if there was at least a sense of humor in it, but, instead, only disbelief.

"Oh, Riley now, is it?" He asked.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be." You caught it. A very small slip, but it was something... something you couldn't place.

"Then why?" You ask, your tone softening. "For someone who makes it very apparent to be done with me, you sure do show up at convenient times. Hard not to think your keeping tabs on me."

He didn't say anything. No explanation or excuse. Not evena smart ass comeback or remark.

His hands reached forward and turned on the radio, turning the volume just loud enough that if you were to try and continue the conversation, your words would be drowned out.

He pulled up in front of your building, yet you made no move to get out. You turned off the radio, soaking in the silence once more. You wanted to know why? Why was he appearing out of nowhere like a fucking ghost? Why was he helping you?

He sighed before putting the car in park and stepping out. Coming around to your side he opened the door. "Get inside. Go to bed." There he was again. Fucking bossing you around as if he still had a say.

You wanted to cuss him out. To spew hateful words just as he did you.

But you didn't.

You were tired.

So fucking tired. And the idea of going to bed did sound pretty good in that moment. You made it to the door of your building before he spoke again. "And if you need to out at this time at night call a goddamn cab."

"Why?" You asked, turning around. "Getting tired of having to follow me around on foot, Si?"

There was a pregnant pause. Neither of you speaking. His body shifted forward, as if contemplating getting closer to you. As if the pull you once had was still there.

With his eyes trained on you, you felt a chill run down your spine. Twice you had seen that look on Simon's face before. The look that he had given the figures concealed in the shadows last night. The same look he had given Percy.

Only this time, it was directed at you.

One that personified the saying, 'if looks could kill.'

"Because," he growled out, "the next time I find someone else touching you that way, I'll fucking kill them."

[vivwritesfics]

Translator

Oscar Piastri doesn't need a translator, Lando's sister/ Oscars girlfriend disagrees.

Exists in the same universe as "oscah" but they can be read as standalones

Oscar wasn't doing anything special,just talking to Logan when she came over. He greeted her with a small hello, placed his arm over her shoulder and went right back to talking to Logan.

It was a perfectly ordinary interaction, the Formula One drivers thought.

Once Oscar had finished his sentence, as he waited for Logan to reply, she held up her hand. "I got this," she mumbled.

"Got what?" Logan asked, admittedly a little scared. There wasn't anything wrong with Oscar's girlfriend. I mean, Oscar loved her, so she had to be doing something right.

She let out a scoff, one that had the boys knowing that, whatever she was saying, she had to be joking. "So, what Oscar has just said to you, Logan, was 'Hugh Jackman, Kangaroo, shrimp, shrimp, boomerang'."

She looked so serious, Logan couldn't help but laugh. But she looked at him like she was expecting something, eyebrows slightly raised, head tipped towards him. "Logan, your response?"

"Oh my god." It really was ridiculous and oh so her. How hadn't they gotten so used to her shenanigans by now? "Uhm, boomerangs, shrimp. Koala, koala, Straya."

With her face still seriously, she turned towards her boyfriend. "Logan just said he thinks you're an asshole and he wants to give you a big ol' kiss."

"Hey!" Logan cried. "I... did not say that."

Oscar laughed as he pulled her into his chest and pressed his lips against the top of her head. She kissed her boyfriend's cheek and said a goodbye to the two of them, heading back to her brother in the McLaren garage.

She didn't know when she started translating Australian for Oscar. It wasn't something she did for Daniel when he was teammates with her big brother, Lando. But, with Oscar, it just felt right.

The way he wore that little, blushy smile once she'd done it. The first time she'd translated Australia for Lando, he'd simply pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head. It had been to shut her up, Oscar not ready to admit that he loved it.

And then, every time since that, Oscar had let her. It was incredible to see the kind of absurd shit she came up with. Her go to's were boomerang and shrimp, but she liked to throw some random ones in there.

But then, the bit started getting old. She'd done it to everybody on the grid, and it was no longer tripping anybody up.

That was when she'd started asking for a response. Hearing the other drivers scramble for a response full of Australian things, it was way more amusing than she'd expected.

But then she started translating what they were saying back to Oscar. It was always some admission of love or somebody insulting him every time.

And, every time Oscar would grin and pull her into his embrace, pressing a kiss to her cheek or the top of her head (never one for much PDA).

It was incredibly fun 'speaking Australian' with Daniel Ricciardo. They'd try and have an actual conversation, with neither of them actually knowing what the other was saying. There had been a mixture of laughs and heated arguments in Australian, with neither of them knowing the subject matter.

But, her favourite time to do it was early in the morning, when Oscar would pull her in and kiss her shoulder before settling back to sleep.

She rolled over and pressed a kiss to his chest. "Osc," she mumbled, and he let out a hum, his eyes still shut. "Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman," she whispered and kissed the underside of his jaw.

"Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman to you too," he said and squeezed her against him.

Shrimp, koala, Hugh Jackman = I love you in Australian.

[syoounn]

~ Their Reactions not giving them physical affection.

~ Characters: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

"Belllaaaa~"

He said, begging and pleading at you he was looking at you with those puppy eyes of his as you continue to ignore him.

Dazai whimpers as you’re starting to ignore him. At this point, he has no other choice than to pout and plead. He buries his head against the pillow and speaks with a pouty voice.

“Come onnnn…. You’re not gonna break and feel bad for me? Maybe even forgive me? I mean, I’m love of your life, right?"

You sigh.. "If you haven't touched that cake, you wouldn't be in this situation." you said.

“Please, please, please…. Just come cuddle with me… I can handle any punishment you give me, anything… but not denial of physical affection…”

"No means no." You said and got back the attention to the book.

Dazai’s frown deepens further when you continue to deny him. The words ‘no means no’ are the absolute worst thing you could’ve said to him right now.

His arms slowly let go of yours, and he folds his, folding his arms and turning in the opposite direction of you. His voice now has a more cold but also pouty tone to it as he mumbles.

“Fine… but you’ll come to regret denying me….”

As you felt your eyelids getting heavy.. you closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep, still holding the book. Dazai looks over towards you and notices that you look like you’re fast asleep, still trying to uphold the pouty behaviour. He lets out a soft sigh before he reaches to wrap his arms around you and pulls you closer. After this, he buries his face into your neck, enjoying the warmth of your skin.

A light chuckle then escapes his lips as he decides to be mischievous and kisses your neck softly.

Dazai decides to continue this behaviour, continuing to kiss and nibble your neck and hold you close as the silence fills the room. The only other sounds that accompany the moment are the light snores from you as well as the soft breathing coming from himself. He’s now content and no longer pouting.

You ended up having hickeys this morning.

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

You were busy handling papers... as Chuuya looks at you as he's saying it's time for you two to cuddle.

"Can't cuddle right now, Chuu.. need to finish this... you can sleep first." You said as returning your attention back to the papers.

Chuuya looks slightly disappointed but accepts it. He sighs a little.

“Fine. I’ll just... lie here.”

He puts his arms over you anyway, not expecting much more than being allowed to hold you in his grasp.

He remains quiet, staring up at the ceiling. He glances at you for a moment before turning his gaze back towards the ceiling. You notice that his muscles are noticeably tensing, his jaw clenched. As if he’s trying to hold himself back from something.

“You know what, screw it. If you’re gonna stay up all goddamn night, I’ll stay up with you. There’s no way that I can sleep while you’re still up.”

He shifts toward your direction and pulls you to the bed so that he’s lying close beside you. One of his arms wraps around you as he turns the lights off. His voice is soft in the darkness, but you can sense that he must be in a bad mood. You don't need to see the frown on his face to know that.

"I was not done yet!" You said protesting.

"Too bad. You need to get some rest, and I'll see to it that you do."His tone of voice is sharp and short, but at the same time, you detect a touch of concern.

Chuuya gently pulls you closer and settles you onto his chest. The faint smell of his cologne, expensive wine, and sweat radiates off his skin. The rhythm of his heartbeat is steady and slow. He's clearly trying hard to be patient, but his agitation is barely contained. The tension is palpable.

"I'll make you tired whether you want it or not."

His embrace tightens as he begins to stroke your hair gently. His hand slides up and down your head, the friction of his fingers running through your hair being strangely soothing. Every time his hand goes across your hair, it's like another wave of tiredness washes over you, making it increasingly harder to keep your eyes open.

As you can't keep your eyes open , you eventually dozed off and ended up panicking about the papers the next day. However.. it was worth it.

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

You don't really see any reason for him to be getting declined for physical affection or.. until you ask him...

"Hmm.. how would you react having no cuddles and kisses?"

He raises an eyebrow, but a small smirk forms on his lips as he reaches for you and pulls you close, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair gently. "You do realise you could ask for affection like I am your lover, instead of asking an open-ended question with the intent to start a debate?"

Despite the words, Fyodor remains calm and collected as he runs his fingers through your soft hair. "I trust the absence of physical contact was what you were insinuating?"

"I-..I was just asking.." You said.

Again, he lets out a soft hum. Very well. I'll answer, even though I find the question in itself quite strange. "Would I be upset with no cuddles or kisses? Of course not. I don't require such acts to be satisfied."

Fyodor's voice now holds a certain tone of amusement. "Now, is your curiosity sated?" He pulls you close again, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead once more.

You nodded in response..

Fyodor chuckles softly. Then, I shall continue to be affectionate. "Now, let me ask you something, dear. Would you rather spend your nights without my warm embrace?" His voice holds a certain degree of teasing, but there's a note of seriousness to it, his deep eyes locking with yours.

"No..! Of course not..!"

His smile grows wider as he continues to stroke your hair. "Then you shall not be without it." He pulls you closer, planting another peck on your forehead and then on your lips. You melt on his little kiss as you glad to ask about that.

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

Both of you are just relaxing at the couch as Nikolai is always asking you these quizzes.. and of course.. you wanna make it a little hard for him.

“Alright~”

Nikolai grins as he adjusts himself to sit up properly, hands behind his back. He looks at you with curious intensity in his eyes.

“Okay…. First question!”

His grin widens even further as he waits for you to give him a nod to start.

"Oh.. if i got it right.. you won't get cuddles and kisses, " you said..

“And if you get it wrong?”

Nikolai asks, smirking as he waits for you to answer his question. He already knows what you’re gonna choose, but it’s just a matter of seeing if you’ll fall for one of his trap questions he’ll put in later.

"You'll get one.."

“Okay then, I’ll kiss and cuddle you if you get it wrong~”

He states."The question is ‘is the sky blue?’ What will you choose, yes or no~?"

"It's light blue." You said correctly.

“Oh~”

Nikolai says playfully, pretending to be surprised by your answer. He seems amused by the fact that you specified ‘light’ blue instead of saying just… blue.

“But that’s right, so you guessed correctly~"

He says, smiling at you flirtatiously as he wiggles closer to you. He grabs you by your waist and pulls you closer and closer to his lap.

“I guess I gotta kiss and cuddle you.”

Before you could even do that, you stopped him and smiled..

"I got it right.. so no kisses and cuddles.."

“But I said I’ll give those to you if you guessed correctly—

Nikolai grumbles, playing along with the charade while still smiling playfully at you. He lets out a few chuckles as he rests his hands on your hips and moves his head over yours. You can tell from his gaze just how much he enjoys playing with you instead of being serious.

“No fair~”

“Hm…" well then…”

Nikolai leans in closer so he’s right inches away from your face.

“I guess I’ll have to just…”

He says before suddenly he leans in a tiny bit more, almost as if he’s about to kiss you. He keeps getting closer and closer until his nose is almost touching your lips.

As Nikolai pulls his head away from yours, he laughs. He notices that his little joke worked and that you really did get flustered by his fake, almost kiss. He couldn’t help but feel pleased about your reaction.

He smiles mischievously and leans in to actually kiss you on the lips that time. Only this time, it’s a proper full-on smooch. His lips are soft and tender as they linger on yours.

Nikolai slowly pulls back once more, taking in the moment and your panting breaths while you’re left a flustered mess. He giggles at your reaction once more and snickers while watching you try to gather yourself back together. He can’t help himself but kiss you again, lingering his lips on yours for an extended period of time. Nikolai doesn’t want to end this, not yet. He enjoys seeing you so flustered and red.

And now.. you've ended up being overly showered with kisses.

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

Sigma has been spending too much time at the Casino again. And now you’re being all pouty and refused to give him cuddles.

He then let out a deep breath, seeing you all pouty and refusing to give him cuddles. He couldn’t help but have his soft, loving eyes widen a bit, thinking how could you be so incredibly adorable. He then slowly walked over to you. “My love…?” He then reached out slowly to wrap his arms around you, hoping to get you to smile again.

As you still didn’t reply or smile back to him, he then started looking at you even more intently. He then started hugging you tightly, trying his best to make you feel comfortable.

He didn’t know what to do as he couldn’t remember what triggered your pouty look, and he couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting you.

He then started rubbing your back, trying to show his affection physically, and hoping this would ease the tension.

He then pulled away and started playing with your hair, looking into your eyes as he tilted his head out of curiosity to see if you were still going to remain stubborn enough to not smile at him. After playing with your hand for a few seconds, he then gave it a soft kiss, hoping this would break the tension.

And you couldn't pretend to be mad at him anymore... you were melting and blushing from his touch as you just gave him a hug.

"I miss you..."

As you suddenly hugged him, all his worries instantly melted away, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly and not letting go. His mind then cleared itself of all thoughts, as he focused his attention on just feeling you in his arms.

He then started tracing circles on your back, while one hand remained holding on to yours. He then spoke softly as his other hand moved to the back of your head and started slowly stroking your hair. “I miss you too..”

You ended up clinging to him all night feeling guilty that you tried to ignore him and would never do that again, you mean.. how, can you ignore this adorable person?!

•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°•○°

(Request is available!) :3

[rougecreator1]

Sooo… I have an idea. Poly!plastics x reader where reader has a concussion caused by some cheerleader things but she is like “I’m okay” and then her girlfriends notice something is wrong with her. (Regina will be really mad at her for hiding her injury). Thank you so much, I love your writing!

Totally Fine ||

|| Poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly!)

|| Warnings: Regina being Regina, reader getting concussed, swearing, Regina arguing with reader, brief mention of throwing up, reader in hospital

|| Summary: reader's part of the cheer team, her girls go and support her only to watch reader fall from the pyramid much to their concern. Reader insists she's fine, turns out she's very much not and her girlfriends know it. They take reader to the hospital, with some scolding from Regina.

Requests open!

Started: April 27th

Finished: May 2nd

~~~

When finale bell rung, you started packing your stuff to leave the classroom. Filling your bag with the various books and papers you had from your English course. Once everything was together you headed out of the classroom; going to your locker to put your bag away and grab your cheer clothes. You had after school cheer practice today and you were looking forward to it.

As you walked to the locker room, you took out your phone and texted the group chat you had with your girlfriends.

You: are all of you still coming to watch? 💕

Gretchen was the fastest to respond, she usually was. She'd never leave you on delivered for more than two minutes unless she was genuinely busy with something; even in class she still made time to text you.

Gretchen: ofc!! omg dw we'll be there 🥰

Karen: be wear?

Gretchen: y/n/n cheer practice, kare 😭

Karen: oh yeah! oow 💕💕💕💕

Regina: oow????

Gretchen: on our way 💀

You laughed a little at their conversation, finding it amusing how Gretchen could always translate for Karen. Sometimes you could understand what she meant, other times you would have absolutely no idea what she means.

You send them a quick text back before shutting your phone off.

You: ilyyy all 🫶🫶

Once you arrived in the locker room you got changed and chatted with some of your cheer friends as you guys walked to the field together; laughing and mostly chatting about various rumours.

Ashley, the head cheerleader, got everyone organized and the Captain went over today's routine. Just some simple stuff, practicing the cheer for Friday's football game. It would be the first of the season and you were excited. It wasn't your first year doing cheer, so you knew what to expect. Usually routine, same old chants, ending with the finale pyramid.

You guys spent about twenty minutes going over your routine, by this point your girls were in the field stands watching and cheering you on. Honestly Gretchen and Karen would kill it on the cheer team. Maybe you'd try and convince them to sign up for next year.

"Alright, ladies! Pyramid up!" The Captain shouts, looking directly at you since you were her flyer (the person at the top).

Everyone got into position, you got to the top of the pyramid and struck your pose.

"Hold it!" The Captain says, watching all of you and checking your stances.

You guys were able to hold the pyramid for a good few seconds, until disaster happened. One of the girls who were under you helping keep you up began to tremble. She was new, she wasn't used to this. You braced yourself for what you knew was coming.

There was a longer pause than you had expected, you ended up letting your guard up because of it. Maybe you were fine. Wrong.

The moment you thought that she dropped you and you fell with no time to brace yourself.

Hitting the ground with a thud, the Captain rushed over to you and knelt beside you.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, you were dizzy. Nauseous. Everything was spinning as you groaned and tried moving onto your side. Pain shot through your body.

"Woah, woah. Easy kid." The captain puts a hand to your shoulder and frowns, watching you with an intense concerned gaze.

You stopped trying to move as your girlfriends rushed to your side.

"Oh my GOD! Are you okay? Are you hurt? How many fingers am I holding up?" Gretchen rambled out, feeling an overwhelming amount of concern as she held up two fingers.

You saw three and stared at her in confusion, trying to keep up with everything she was saying. By now the cheer team had gotten out of the pyramid and were standing a good distance, watching everything play out.

"Three...?" You mumbled, your speech slurred which confused Regina. You sounded like you were drunk but she knew better than to think that, she looked over at the Captain who seemed to be thinking the same thing as her.

Concussion.

Gretchen's eyes widened when you said three instead of two and she looked at Regina," Regina, what do we do?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." You assure her, trying to stand again and push through it.

"You are absolutely not." Regina sighed, narrowing her eyes at you as you tried to push it off like it was nothing. She knew you well enough to know it wasn't nothing.

"Oh yeah? Would someone who wasn't fine be able to do this?" You decided to show off a bit to prove your point. Doing a backhand spring, the only reason you landed right now was because of muscle memory. You nearly threw up as your head spun.

Regina groaned loudly and placed her hands on her hips while Karen clapped and smiled at you. Gretchen looked at you with pure worry.

"Fine! Wanna act like a tough girl? Act like a tough girl, see how tough you feel afterwards." Regina rolled her eyes and dragged the other two back to the bleachers, Gretchen really didn't want to leave your side but let Regina drag her.

Your Captain looked at you with worry," You sure this is a good idea, kid?"

"I'll be fine." You assure her.

Cue yourself eating absolute shit in three... two...

Ten more minutes pass, you do your best to keep up with the routines in your state. You were doing totally fine, until you started seeing spots and your vision went black.

~~~

When your eyes began to slowly open, you felt yourself blinded by hospital lights. Squinting you glanced around you, not moving from where you laid.

You could see Karen and Gretchen sitting beside you, Karen holding your hand and rambling about something to you.

She knew you had been unconscious when she started talking, she just wanted to talk to you in case you could hear her so you didn't feel alone.

You looked around a little more, spotting Regina pacing in front of your hospital bed. Her eyes met yours and you could see her expression shift from concern to anger.

"You're such a fucking idiot!" She shouts, startling you, Gretchen, and Karen.

"Regina!" Gretchen gets up, walking to the blonde in hopes of calming her down. Regina just puts her hand in front of her to stop her.

"I told you you weren't going to be fine! Why didn't you just fucking listen to me?"

You frowned and looked away from her, you had tried to hide how hurt you actually had been because you didn't want them to worry. You didn't want to burden them with you. Turns out, that just made things a whole lot worse.

Gretchen glanced at you and mirrored your frown, she felt bad for you. She hated that Regina was yelling at you for this, couldn't she have at least waited until you were out of the hospital? This was the last thing you needed.

Karen kept her hand holding yours, giving your knuckles soft rubs with her thumb as she tried her best to comfort you in silence. She knew better than to talk over Regina.

Regina narrowed her eyes at you when you looked away, she grabbed your chin and made you look at her again. She pulls you a little closer to her face.

"Never fucking pull this 'I'm fine' bullshit again. You hear me?"

You nodded slowly and she let go of you. As she did, you let out of breath.

"I'm going to talk to the doctor about when you're allowed out of here." With that, Regina walks out the door. Slamming it shut behind her. Making all three of you flinch from the sudden noise.

You shared a look with Gretchen as she returned to where she had been sitting before next to you and Karen. She rests a hand on your leg.

"How do you feel?" Her voice was so much softer than Regina's had been, you appreciated that about Gretchen.

"Like my head was run over by a bus." You mumbled, you had a killer headache. Regina's yelling did nothing to improve it.

"Do you want anything? Water? A snack?" Gretchen asked, frowning when heard your response. Her instinct was to take care of you and that's just what she was going to do.

You slowly nod your head, trying to ignore how that simple movement made your headache worse." Please."

Gretchen gives your leg a soft squeeze then gets up, going out of the room to find a vending machine. She trusted that more than the cafeteria food.

Karen stays with you, keeping her hand in yours as she talks to you about anything and everything. Hoping it distracts you from whatever pain you're going through. You don't have the heart to tell her it's making your headache worse.

"I'm not ready for this math test, like what even is it about? Do I need to know what an adjective is? Because I don't know what an adjective is.." Karen rambles on, you raise an eyebrow at her wondering what the hell adjectives had to do with math.

You just listen to Karen's ramble, occasionally nodding your head and adding in your little bit to the conversation.

~~~

You spent the following couple of weeks recovering, your girls taking care of you. Though mostly Gretchen & Karen. Regina was still pissed at you and wanted to make damn sure you knew that. So, Gretchen and Karen came up with a plan.

They had told Regina they were both busy one night and that they'd need her to keep an eye on you. Make sure you weren't doing anything to make your injury worse than it was. Regina argued, but they pleaded because they didn't want you to be left alone. Regina rolled her eyes and very reluctantly agreed.

She stayed over at your house that night, you spent most of the time in bed. Every now and then Regina would walk into your room.

During one of her last check ins, she noticed that you were asleep. She walked over and rested her hand on yours, watching you with an uncharacteristically soft gaze.

"I know I've been rough on you, but you were a fucking idiot." She was barely talking above a whisper, not wanting to risk you hearing her.

"I still love you. But seriously you're a fucking idiot." Leave it to Regina to not let you forget how much of an idiot you were, even while you were asleep.

[vourequat]

First was to love you, second was to fuck the shit out of you.

WARNING: Fem!reader, toxic relationship, short NSFW longer angst/fluff, implied murder, blood, cunnilingus, knife play

3rd part of my birthday special, I know I didn't post yesterday so I'll be posting two fanfics tomorrow if I can. I'm not feeling good, chat 😞

You couldn't say that your relationship with the Knave was as smooth as her operations that go under the nose of the Oratrice, it never was and might never will be.

At first, she was just nonchalant but very loving and sweet to you until one time she saw you conversing with someone else and that seemed to tick her off and made her switch from the Peruere that you loved to the Arlecchino that you feared.

What were you to expect from the child of a Fatui that killed her own mother?

"I'm a very jealous woman, you know that." She said as she stood up from her desk.

You scoffed, "And me talking to someone else ticked you off?" You snapped back.

She stopped from her tracks, the wind going still as she slowly turned around to see you. Her eyes meeting yours as she telepathically told you to stop pushing her.

"Yes—"

"You murdered someone, Peruere!" You reasoned out, trying to pull out her logical side.

"I am aware."

You sighed, rubbing your temples in frustration on trying to make this woman rethink her decisions and actions. Ever since she decided to make the two of you official, she always resorted to violence when it came to your safety but she was going out of line this time.

She then approached you, "I'm sorry, Mon cher... let me make it up to you" Her blackened hands made their way to your waist and to the ties of your dress, tugging on them slightly.

You tried to push her away but she was much stronger than you were, she lifted you up so suddenly and placed you down on her desk before tearing off your corset.

"Let me show you how sorry I am..."

You couldn't count how much you've come on her tongue, it was pure bliss as she kept working on your pussy like it was her very last meal. Though you could remember how she made you try to shoo away the children as they knocked and asked for their father while she was attacking your clit with passion.

You kept pushing her head away from you but she would not budge a single inch, it seems that this has agitated her as she stopped eating you alive and looked up at you with those X mark pupils of her before she stood up to look down at you.

A lump of saliva gathered at your throat as you watched her lips and chin glisten from your juices and the way that she wiped it off, slowly she leaned in closer to you, at first you thought that it was to hug you but then you felt a sharp and cold object run from the the nape of your neck towards the section where your back and ass meets.

"This time... I'll mark you to show everyone who you belong to... this time I won't hold back."

And just like that, you were turned onto your back with her hand pushing down on you. You felt her kiss along your spine before you felt the dagger that she held in her hands and carved her name all over your back, leaning down to lick up the blood that trickled off the shallow wounds.

You shivered as you felt her breath hit the open wounds she had put on you, this was pure torture but the pain seemed to fade into nothing but pleasure as you felt her rub at your clit once more before plunging the blunt handle of the dagger into you and kept thrusting it in until you were shaking.

Pulling out the dagger, she cupped your face with one hand to make sure you were watching as she sucked off your juices from the dagger's handle.

"When I was a child I never believed in the archons that plagued these lands... but by mercy, I gave them my devotion when they handed me to you."

You were now in the bathtub with her, the warm water engulfing the two of you as she laid your back on hers.

The wounds had long healed from being too shallow and not enough to cause you any further pain, however, Arlecchino seemed to get more relaxed as she kissed and licked at your neck whilst she massaged your thighs.

Her kisses trailed up and then she breathed into your ear before she spoke, "My whole existence is flawed and wretched... but you my dear... you make me get closer to the archons, you make me want to repent for all my sins just to be enough for you..."

You began to chuckle, laying your head onto her shoulders as you held onto her hands.

"You should really stop having sex with me just to take my mind off what you've done..." You spoke up, now stern and strict.

"Don't worry, his disappearance won't be linked to any of us." Before you could even speak up, you could hear the children speak from outside the door once more.

"Father, I had a nightmare..."

You laughed as the woman sighed.

"Your kids need you... daddy."

She gave you a warning glare before lifting herself out of the tub to dry herself off and cover her body with a bath robe, before she left however she did not miss to give you a quick kiss before leaning down back again.

"I'll make sure you'll be screaming that later... we're not done yet, I know I'm still not forgiven."

A/N: Do y'all think Arle likes being called daddy?

Anyways, I've been feeling bad these past few days due to the heat. I don't know if I'm just being dramatic but heat exhaustion is real gang, my head hurts all the time and I am just so irritable and I even got a nose bleed just earlier.

(Real, we kiss passionately when no one is looking)

[applepieshy]

I had an idea to redesign vox because I didn't love that a character obsessed with modernization would wear a top hat and bowtie. then after a brief stint into madness where I read my partner's historic costuming textbook I drew.... all this.

(side note: the idea of vox being a trans man who transitioned AFTER death was super compelling and absolutely inspired by @prince-liest so while this is not direct fanart of their series I wanted to give a shoutout anyway!!!)

okay some TRULY unhinged rambling about historic costume below the cut YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

1950s: for this design I very much did not want to go to the typical a-line housewife look, because I feel that is unfitting for vox's character. instead I went for a more business look, but there is still a level of femininity that he would have been expected to perform. i wanted to express his discomfort with that through the pose and expression, though at the time he wouldn't necessarily have a framework for why he hated it

1960s: this one was very fun. i loved the idea of vox beginning to eschew some of the expected feminine presentation, and he no longer wears makeup, jewelry, or hose (though its hard to tell in black & white); however, he's kind of at war with himself in this time period. he's obsessed with seeming perfect and having a respectable image, so he would not go in for the counter-culture movements that were so big in the 60s. he's still kind of riding those coattails though, pushing those boundaries while still not acknowledging his queerness.

1970s: to me, it was very important that the gender hit as he entered the world in color. in my mind the gender euphoria is physically manifested in a wizard of oz situation - he can become who he always has been. anyway, gender aside, I think it was very important to me personally that he wore an ascot. it was for my mental health.

1980s: I wanted the 1980s to be the period where he began to gain some power and notoriety because of the de-regulation of television during this period to allow more ads, mirroring real-world history. I think if the 70s were when vox gained some real confidence, the 80s are when he got an Ego (tm). "business casual" also began to become more acceptable in this time period, and the t-shirt/suit jacket combo was very important for me to include, as to me it epitomizes the commercialism and machismo of the 80s.

1990s: this was actually the decade I was the most nervous to design, and yet I think it turned out the best? the 90s are known for grunge, which I think is NOT vox's style at all. I decided instead to lean hard into the yuppie look, which I know is more associated with the 80s but was definitely still a thing in the 90s. I also allowed a little hip-hop influence in the form of a gold chain from val, which is not something I think vox would ever pick on his own.

2000s: if the 90s were the decade I was worried about and turned out great, the 2000s are the decade I thought I had down SO GOOD and then totally floundered in execution. I still love the bubble-mac inspired head, and I tried to make his clothes as "round" as possible. I also like that this is the time where his saturation got cranked. however, I don't know if I'm in love with the vest and super bright sneakers, because again, looking back on it, he kind of looks like he works at a movie theater or best buy or some shit lol,,,

2010s: I think it's telling that this is by far the closest to his canon design (2014 tumblr lookin ass). I really wanted to pull from that hipster tech bro era, but unfortunately that aesthetic has a veneration for "retro" which again, is not fitting for vox. I still think he would wear the bowtie during this time because, well... he sure does in the show!

2020s: this was fun because I had an excuse to pull from haute couture design rather than street fashion because of the introduction of velvette into his life. I truly do not think velvette would let vox and val walk around in the outfits that they do because it would be an actual embarrassment LMAO. for this, I wanted his decorative "robes" to be evocative of the time he depicted himself as a priest AND of a cape/robe of an emperor. he does think of himself as that bitch, after all.

[tswhiisftteedr]

Hiya!! I was wondering if I could ask for some nsfw fem reader x husk (hazbin hotel) where husk basically just eating reader out, face sitting etc.

Also keep up the good writing!! I love your writing from what I’ve seen and i hope you do well with your other requests too!!

Don’t worry, I’m right here with you. ☆ Oneshot

Soft Dom!Husk x Sub!Hotel Resident!Fem!Reader:

After spending quite sometimes getting to know each other, you and husk finally begin dating. Anyways, today Lucifer came to the hotel for the first time and that was a super, but it wasn’t the main event of yours and husk’s days. So after an altercation with Alastor, husk seek solace in you for comfort, which you give, and he decides to thank you in his own special way for it.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, that scene where alastor uses husk soul chain and threatens him, Unspecified Vices, Mutual Pinning, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Soft Husk, Sorta Bad Written Comfort.

Words: 10567

Note: There is smut, BUT, beside the intro which is just suggestive, the smut will be at the end, so If you don’t want smut and just fluff you can just not read it. It’s the same with my last Zestial work, it’s like 3/4 sfw and 1/5 smut. Btw Antonio Esfandiar aka "The Magician" is a professional poker player and former professional magician, known for his elaborate chip tricks. That’s the only reason I mentioned him if you were curious about that lol.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Honestly, you had attempted to question how things had ended up like that—

“Ah, fuck, Husk, it's too much!” You cried out in overstimulation.

“Shh, it's okay, baby, I know you can handle it,” he reassured, softly stroking the underside of your right thigh to offer comfort.

— But truthfully, every train of thought you’d tried to start would derail quicker than the previous one. Without doubt, that man, Husk— he would be the end of you.

Yet, no need for worry as, I, your illustrious ‘historian,’ am here to recount the tale of how you found yourself in this predicament; as you're obviously too preoccupied getting your brains fucked out by Antonio Esfandiari over there to form any sort of recollection, or even a coherent thought for that matter.

Now, let’s backpedal four months ago, shall we?

You had been in the infernal realm for a little while, precisely half a year. You managed to secure a job and a place to stay, but ‘living’ down here was anything but easy.

To survive, you had to stretch your earnings, rationing food and water to make them last longer than they should, leaving you hungry more than once.

And when you were really desperate for cash—well, let's just say you had to resort to some unsavory means to get your hands on it.

Additionally, it had been a month since Princess Morningstar introduced her hotel to the public of the hell on 666 news. As expected, the masses of sinners inhabiting the pride ring ridiculed the princess and her redemption-themed endeavors.

Initially, the idea seemed far-fetched, as if redemption were truly an option — Why hadn't anybody else proposed it before?

That's what you and your friends had agreed upon when first watching the interview. But as time passed, you began to reconsider your friend group's shared consensus. Perhaps, just maybe, ‘redemption wasn't such a crazy concept after all.’

That's why you now found yourself standing in front of the princess's Hazbin Hotel, formerly known as Happy Hotel, nervous and with slightly sweaty palms.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you knocked on the large, stained glass-filled windows, as ‘it was now or never’.

After waiting patiently for about five minutes, just as you were about to turn away—possibly never to return—as the building seemed vacant. The large doors swung open, revealing the princess herself standing before you.

"Um, is this the redemption hotel from the news?" you inquired, even though it was plain as day from the building's illuminated 'Hazbin Hotel' sign and the fact that the princess, the one who pitched the hotel on 666 news, was literally standing in front of you.

With the brightest and most joyful smile you'd seen down here, she opened her mouth to speak. "Oh mygod!Ohmygod!Ohmygod!Areyousomeonewho’sactuallyinterestedinthehotel???likeyougenuinelywanttotryandgiveredemptionashot???!!!Holyshit,thisisthehotel’sgreatestsinceSirPentioushasjoined!!!!" Princess Morningstar blurted out in a rush, as if she didn't deliver the information fast enough, you would leave.

As you tried to make sense of her rapid jumble of words—something about 'actually wanting to be redeemed' and someone named 'Sir Righteous' or was it 'Sir Delicious'?—you also noticed a crowd of individuals walking closer to the doors.

The group consisted of six people: A woman with an X over her eye, wielding an angelic weapon—'Delightful,' you sarcastically thought.

A grumpy tuxedo cat man with a red bow, his fur acting as some sort of substitute for his lack of shirt; he was also 'sort of handsome, y'know?'.

Then there was a snake man that screamed steampunk; he seemed sort of familiar, but you didn’t remember where you’d seen his slithery mug before.

There was also a tiny woman with one eye; she seemed full of energy and sorta stabby.

Then, second to last, we had—Unholy hell! It’s the porn actor Angel Dust! You remembered the princess mentioning him as a patron here, but you hadn’t expected to encounter him in the flesh and fur.

He seemed to notice the starstruck gaze in your eyes caused by his presence, so he shot you a wink. With a bit of internal fangirling along the way, you finally managed to get your heart rate to go back down.

You then shift your attention back to the rest of the crowd and notice the final person standing there, and HOLY SHIT, THE RADIO DEMON IS THERE—!

Your heart rate shoots back up, and you take a step back in fear, causing you to stumble over a pebble and fall on your ass. You curse yourself for being too engrossed in the sight of a celebrity to ignore the immense danger that is literally right there in front of you.

"Why, hello there, and who might you be, you wayward soul? It’s not often that we see sinners seeking out redemption." the Radio Demon inquired, accompanied by what you could only assume was his ‘iconic smile’.

You obviously didn’t know firsthand, as, for one, you hadn’t met the demon before, and for another, he was apparently in the sixth year and a half of his seven-year getaway when you manifested.

But you had heard the stories, and they were enough to make you absolutely petrified at the sight of that grin plastered on his face.

He seemed to rather enjoy your pitiful display, while you only grew more terrified.

“Oh no, are you okay? Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” The princess asked, breaking you away from your scared state and extending her hand.

With a bit of hesitation, you took it. “Uh, no. No, I’m okay, it was just a little fall.” you told her.

“Oh, okay, I’m glad it was nothing. Anyways, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, we are so glad to have you here!” She said as she began to lead you inside, and the others followed, each finding their place within the hotel;

The cat man heading to the bar, Angel Dust lounging on one of the couches, the little woman chasing bugs around, and both the radio demon and the spear-wielding woman following you and Charlie.

Once she had you comfortably seated on one of the lounge's couches, she began to introduce herself and everyone present. “Sooo, hi. I’m Charlie, the owner and founder of this hotel.”

“I think she already knows who you are, princess” the cat man interjected. “Oh, right,” she realized.

While all you could think upon hearing him speak was, 'Fuck. Even his voice is sexy.'

“Anywho, this is Alastor, our gracious facility manager.” Charlie said, pointing at the Radio Demon. “Your pleasure to meet.” he told you.

“And this is Vaggie, the co-founder and my girlfriend.” Charlie continued. Vaggie approached you, and you shook hands. “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Likewise.” you responded.

“Next up, we have Husk, our bartender, and Niffty, our cleaning staff.” she gestures towards the bar. “Nice to meet you.” Husk offers, while Niffty chimes in with a big, eccentric “Hello!”

“And lastly, we have our residents and your potential fellow guests if you decide to stay.” she adds with a slightly unsure chuckle. “Angel and Sir Pentious!”

“No offense, Charls, but the broad probably knew who I was, no need for an intro.” Angel quips teasingly before approaching you. “But anyways, it’s good to see a new face around here, so welcome, toots.” he says, extending his hand, which you shake. “Thanks for your hospitality.” you reply.

Feeling a little less on edge, you approach the final resident. “Sir Pentious, right? It’s nice to meet you.” you say, extending your hand. “Oh, no, darling, the pleasurrre izzz all mine.” he replies, shaking your hand. Just as you finish, you hear a small gasp from Charlie.

You turn to look at her, and she says apologetically, "I totally forgot to ask you for your name! I am so sorry for that." With a comforting smile, you tell her, "It’s no worries, really. I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you again, I guess."

“Nice to meet you again too, Y/N,” she says with a giggle. Then she adds, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what brought you to the hotel? I mean, what led you our way?”

“I saw your interview on 666 news with Katie Killjoy a month ago.” you tell her.

“Oh, you did? Um, did you see alllll of it?” Charlie asks, momentarily shocked and a little nervous afterward, but you understood why.

“If you’re talking about the fist fight and the news anchor on fire, yes, I did. It’s probably the thing most people remember from that news segment.” you answer her, confirming her assumptions.

“Oh, right.” Charlie says, a little embarrassed.

“Well, if you saw that, then why are you here? Are you trying to mock us in person?” Vaggie asks you, getting slightly defensive as the interview was not the best display of the hotel.

“No, nothing like that.” you reassure at first. Then you continue, “Well, actually, at first when I saw it on the news, I definitely laughed at the idea of a redemption hotel. So did my friends. Actually, I think everyone did. I heard from one of my imp friends that even in the other rings, people were making fun of it.” You say, deflating Charlie further and further with each word.

"But," you begin once more, bringing back some sort of hope to her,

"The more I thought about it, the less crazy stupid it all seemed. I mean, at first, I was like, 'If it's such a good idea, why didn't anyone think of it before?'.

Then, with more reflection, I realized that even if someone had pitched something like it before, there wouldn't be a big trace of it anyways.

I mean, you saw how people reacted when you presented it; it was made fun of and forgotten by most.

Also, considering the fact that the powerhouses of our ring profit from the fact that there are people down here to exploit, even if someone had the same idea and people to back them up, it would definitely have been shut down and covered up.

Because if people get redeemed and get out of hell, the big fishes don’t make as much profit anymore." You explain, and this seemed to reason with Charlie and the others around.

“Honestly, I think the only reason you don’t have people directly targeting you and your hotel is because you’re the princess. I mean, sure, people can make fun of you, but actually attacking you, well, that’s a no-go territory,” you add on.

And everyone, even Charlie, who seemed to like staying in the delusion that ‘in every demon there is a rainbow,’ couldn’t help but agree. If she wasn’t the princess, there was sure to be some people coming by and hurting everyone here, ‘just because.’

“Anyways, when I made peace with the concept, I thought, why not me when it came to redemption. I mean, sure, I did some unsavory things to end up down here, but I wasn’t some serial killer or sex trafficker either,” you explain further.

“Plus, I have all eternity, well, unless an exorcist’s blade or some Carmine weapon-wielding freak comes my way—“ you slightly deviate but remember to get back on track,

“Anyways, the point is if I can do whatever for ‘basically forever,’ why not give redemption a shot. I mean, worst-case scenario, I just avoid doing bad stuff for nothing, but at least that simultaneously keeps me out of trouble, so it’s not ‘that bad,’ you know?” You finish your explanation and look back at Charlie to see the immense joy in her eyes caused by someone actually taking a full interest in being part of her project.

“Well, I am so glad you think that way, Y/N. And the fact that you decided to come here even though your entourage still thinks, well, that the hotel is a joke, was very brave of you.

Also, just letting you know, as you may not be aware since it was not mentioned during the interview you watched, but here at the Hazbin Hotel, we offer free rooms, food, electricity, and if you're feeling like it, from time to time alcohol, though moderation is more than encouraged.” she informed.

“Well, that’s great. I mean, I didn’t really think about the fact that you may have asked for cash for staying here, but as it is some sort of a ‘nonprofit,’ it does make sense that you don’t.” you tell her in a relieved manner.

“Of course, we want to help people here. It wouldn’t be fair for us to ask money from our guests. Anyways, why don’t I go over what would be your weekly schedule, hotel-wise, as a resident, and then I can show you to your room?” she asked.

“That would be wonderful.” you tell her.

It had been a couple of weeks since you joined the hotel, and you would say that things have been going ‘alright.’

I mean, Charlie’s ‘activities’ were more often silly than not, but they didn’t necessarily do any harm. The hardest part was staying away from your vices—‘that was the real kicker’.

Which brings us to why you were currently seated on a bar stool, gradually drowning yourself in alcohol as Husk poured drink after drink at your request.

"You know, if you keep pushing away your vices but then return here every time instead, you're just fostering a dependence on booze," Husk cautioned, sliding your fifth Midori Sour over to you. "And when you finally have to cut out drinking altogether, you'll likely revert to your old habits. You're turning this ‘rehabilitation thing’ into a sort of yo-yo diet, if you ask me.”

You stared at the drink after finishing your previous one.

— You had first tasted something like it when you went out for your first legal drink at 21, asking for something sweet with a bit of a kick alcohol-wise.

The bartender had recommended it to you, then as you drank it, he went on a rant about how it was "made with Midori melon liqueur, lemon juice, and simple syrup" and that "It's sweet, refreshing, and has a medium alcoholic content" — the “perfect drink for you”.

He was good-looking, like the current bartender in front of you, so you had let him talk—just like you let Husk talk.

Sure, having spent a considerable amount of time down here and living well beyond his twenties, you could acknowledge that Husk did have some wisdom to himself.

However, there were moments — particularly when he embarked on his tangents about how "you won’t find your answers at the bottom of a bottle,"— then, you simply wanted to shut him up.

Whether it was by pointing out that while he might be correct in his assessment, he failed to offer real advice on how to find those answers. Saying shit like "don’t do that, there are better ways to deal with your issues" yet always neglecting to explain what those "other ways" might be — frankly, it was all quite frustrating.

But each time it occurred, you chose to keep your mouth shut to avoid any conflict. After all, from what you had observed, you genuinely liked Husk as a person and didn’t want any tension between the two of you.

Nevertheless, despite your growing frustration with the men, your mind couldn’t help but entertain the other option that would allow you to ‘catch the cat’s tongue’; wondering how quickly he would stop talking if you pressed your lips to his.

Yet, ultimately, it remained a mere fantasy, something confined to the realm of imagination, one never to enter reality. —

“Thanks, Husk,” was all you said as you took the glass and downed your goddamn Midori Sour.

Several hours had passed since your fifth drink, and more than one other had entered your system by now. You and Husk were now discussing on a more personal level.

“It’s all so weird, you know. It’s not like my soul is trapped in a contract like yours or Angel’s,” Husk’s face slightly winced at the reminder that he, in fact, didn’t own his own soul. However, he stayed quiet and let you talk without interjecting, as he respected you and you were pouring your heart out. “Yet, I can’t help but feel like it is,” you told him. “I try to be better, I really do, but it’s so, so hard not to do the bad things I’m not supposed to do when they all feel so fun and right to me in the moment. I mean, I do regret them afterward, but I keep wanting to do them anyway.”

You take a sip of your drink, and Husk follows suit. “You know, you would think the moment I feel the most trapped is right after I’ve done what I wasn’t supposed to,” you muse, contemplating the complexities of your situation. “I had my fun, and as I suffer the consequences, I feel encaged. But it’s not. It’s actually right before I even do it. I feel it in my whole body—a feeling that this is the only way for me, that I can never let go of this high.

No matter how hard I push myself to get better, to be better, I’m not really leaving the cage. I’m just pacing around in circles, pretending that the loop isn’t there and I’m actually getting away.

I just want to run, but I’m afraid that if I actually try, I’ll probably just hit my head against the cage’s bars,” you confess, tears of anxiety welling in your eyes as you begin to sniffle.

With that, Husk grabs your hand and begins to rub soothing circles on it with his thumb, offering comfort in his touch as he speaks up. “Listen, I can’t say that everything will be alright. That's bullshit, and that saying has always been bullshit, but it’s even more full of holes down here,” he pauses to take another sip of his drink, collecting his thoughts. “And I personally know firsthand how it feels to be where you are right now. And I mean it, even without the whole Alastor thing, though it is a big part of it.”

Pausing once more, then taking a big breath, “You know, I used to be an overlord once,” he reveals, capturing your attention even further. “Yeah, and it was nice to have that power. But when you’re dealing with souls while also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. And losing a few hands can be more than a little dangerous. So when you’re down on your luck, you turn to anything to keep you afloat, even making deals yourself.”

Husk continued his story, delving into his past life before he was sent to the underworld. “But even before that shit show, I had another for me up there. Back when I was alive, I was a magician, a pretty big one at that. But at some point, I got into booze. It wasn’t a big issue at first, but it soon spiraled out of control after some other bad choices.

You see, a buddy of mine, another magician, had a gig at Caesars Palace. Being the good friend he was, he invited me along to party with him after his show. And party we did. It was one wild night—we drank, got plastered, enjoyed the company of some lovely ladies and fellas, and, most importantly, we played games.

That night marked my first taste of gambling, and it was exhilarating. I decided to play it safe and not bet too much, but it turned out Lady Luck was on my side. I won big, about two thousand dollars, while only betting twenty bucks.”

Husk paused, reflecting on those memories. “After that, I couldn’t help but come back the next day. Call it beginner's luck or whatever, but I was on a roll. In the span of two weeks, I had made enough money to last me two lifetimes.

But back then, it didn’t satisfy me, and it still didn’t when I first got down here either. Anyways, even after hitting such a big jackpot, I didn’t stop. I actually stopped magic altogether and fully transitioned to being a full-time gambler.

And for a while, it worked. But money wasn’t the only thing I got greedy with.

The amount of alcohol became too much for my body to take, and one day, I just dropped dead. A cardiac arrest was all it took to end me, while at the time it happened, I was convinced I was on top of the world.

Then I ended up down here. So, after spending quite some time just drowning myself in alcohol, only to make my alcoholism worse, I sort of got back on my feet. I became powerful and an overlord, but you already know how that went.

The both times I thought I was indestructible were also the both times when I was the reason behind why I got destroyed.”

You took hold of Husk's hand back, no longer content to simply let him hold yours.

“So now, every time I'm about to take a swig or play a game, while I may be confident in my skills, I can't shake the feeling that if I wanted to seek something else out, a different career path or way of life, I just couldn’t — that I've already burned those bridges for myself for all of eternity.

I feel trapped by my own actions and technically am too, but the worst part is that I don’t know if I’ll ever break free. But you, as you said, still have your soul. So maybe, even if it feels insurmountable right now, you can find the key to your cage and finally step out of it. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, you can come by and try to find mine with me.”

Husk's way of speaking offered a different kind of comfort compared to Charlie's approach. Yet, it somehow brought you closure. It was honest and reliable, two things hard to find down here.

You gently squeeze his hand in a gesture of support before speaking up, "If I manage to find that key and finally step out of my cage, I promise you'll be the first person I’ll help find theirs, Husk." Your words are accompanied by a warm smile, which he reciprocates.

"Well, if you're the type to make empty promises, then I'm afraid to tell you but you're stuck with that one now, sweetheart. I'll hold you to it.” he teasingly responds, lightening the mood. "You wouldn't back out after giving a poor old soul like myself hope, now would you?"

"Never!" you assure him, the tears now long gone.

Following that evening, you and Husk grew closer, engaging in deeper conversations with each other than with the other residents.

It proved surprisingly effortless to open up to him once he shed his ‘old wise bartender’ persona. Despite the decades that separated you, both of you felt understood by the other.

Thus, when you began suggesting to Husk that you hang out together outside of the hotel, it didn't take much persuasion to get him on board. You believed it would be beneficial for him to step outside the confines of the hotel, considering it was in some part the physical manifestation entrapment.

Additionally, you planned to avoid places like casinos or bars to help both of you steer clear of your vices.

You envisioned a delightful day filled with laughter and happiness, far from anything that could potentially cause harm to either of you.

That's why you found yourselves in the fourth clothing store of the day. While you had picked up a few items from each previous store after some browsing, Husk had merely glanced around without finding anything to pique his interest.

As you perused the winter section, you stumbled upon the perfect ensemble: a charming white knitted skirt adorned with two small fluffy pompons, complemented by a matching top and a white bubble coat trimmed with fur.

Knowing you already had the perfect shoes to complete the look at home, you approached Husk with the outfit in hand.

"Soooo, what do you think of this one?" you inquired, prompting him to turn away from whatever had captured his attention to inspect your find.

"Hmm, well, it doesn't seem like it covers much. Are you sure you found it in the ‘winter section’? You'd probably freeze your ass off wearing that in the winter cold," he teased with a playful comment.

With an exaggerated sigh and a playful hip pop, you quip, "You just don’t understand, it's all about the 'aesthetic'," adding a fake tone of disdain that prompts both of you to burst into laughter at your absurdity.

Returning to a more serious tone, you inquire, "But really, aside from the fact that it's not exactly suitable for cold weather, what do you think of it?"

"Well, if we overlook the fact that you'd freeze solid walking outside in this, I have to admit the outfit is pretty nice. I think it would suit you," he replies earnestly before adding with a teasing voice, "and your aesthetic," eliciting more laughter from both of you.

You then notice something in his hands and ask, "Anywho, what do you have there?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just a little trinket that caught my eye. I probably won't buy it, though," he says, showing you the item—a watch with a roulette pattern on it. It was a bit pricey, but not overly extravagant. It looked cute and suited him well.

"It looks really nice. It would suit you very nicely," you tell him, and he smiles sheepishly in response.

"You think so? Thanks. Well, I'm going to put it back. You seem to be done with this store, so I shouldn't keep it in my hands. Wouldn't want to walk out of the store with it without paying," he says, trying to act nonchalant, but it's obvious he's a bit disappointed.

As you consider his situation, you realize that the hotel doesn't really pay Husk to work there, and all the money he used to make was based on gambling.

By staying away from it, he's basically broke now. With that realization, you make up your mind;

"Oh, wait. If you're not going to buy it, you won't mind if I do," you tell him, the gears turning in your head.

"Oh, yeah, no problem," he says as he passes the watch in its box to you.

You then proceed to the checkout and pay your dues. You ask for a separate bag for the watch, which earns you a slightly confused glance from Husk, but you don't mind. As you step out of the store, you suggest going out for ice cream to finish your outing, and he has no problem with it.

As you both enjoy your dessert, you pause to retrieve the bag containing the watch. "Here, this is for you," you tell him, offering the gift.

"Gosh, Y/N, I can't accept that. It's a very nice gift and all, but I can't just take it for nothing. I really appreciate it, really, but I don't deserve it," he rambles to you. Before he could delve further into why he possibly 'didn't deserve it,' you stop him.

"Listen, Husk, it's no problem. I have the money, so it's no big deal for me. Plus, you've become a dear friend of mine by now. Is it that bad for me to want my friends to have nice things?" you ask him.

"No, but I don't think such pricey things should be handed out to anybody just because 'you have the money,'" he states.

"But Husk, you're not just anybody, you're someone dear to me, someone I care about. When I saw the watch, I could only picture it on your wrist. I bought that watch for you and you only.

Also, before you mention returns, that store has a no-return policy.

And lastly, if you feel that bad about it, telling yourself you don’t deserve it, which is not true, you’re a wonderful man who deserves to have nice things— anyways, I interjected, my point is if you feel bad just take it as; this is a gift from me to you, for spending the day shopping around with me even though you weren’t interested in the stores we were going to,” you tell him kindly. As you see him still hesitating, you add one more thing, “Also, you can just not keep it and sell it if you really don’t want it that badly.” That breaks him away from the self-loathing he was internally building.

“Of course not, I’m not going to sell it. It’s a gift from you, a very nice gift at that, and I would never think of selling it,” he tells you, a bit protective of the gift now, which is what you wanted.

“So, looks like you’re keeping it after all.” you tell him, noticing a slight pout on his face as he realizes his words, but then he playfully rolls his eyes and now has a grin on his face. ‘Looks like he has finally accepted the gift.’

"Anyway, thanks for the watch. I’ll make sure to start wearing it as soon as we get to the hotel.” he tells you with that charming smile of his.

"I told you it was no problem." you reply, your face mirroring his.

"Also, if you're comfortable with buying me watches out of the blue, does that mean you would be into being my full-time sugar mommy—" he jokes, which you quickly shut down with a "Not even in your dreams." making both of you laugh once more.

Hangouts like this one continued, ranging from outings to different venues like theaters and restaurants to engaging in activities at the hotel.

For instance, Husk took it upon himself to teach you poker once you mentioned your lack of knowledge in the game.

It was a fun experience, filled with laughter. Turns out, you were quite good at it, although never as skilled as Husk, which occasionally led to moments of rage on your part. However, these instances always ended in laughter.

Currently, you were enjoying a drink with both Husk and Angel at the lounge’s bar;

“You’d think with all that money, he would be able to buy prescription glasses that looked like his current sunglasses,” you commented after Angel mentioned his boss, Valentino's poor eyesight.

“That's what I said! Like, if you're going to be a horrible piece of shit who literally built his empire off being one, you could at least get custom glasses so you could stop looking like an absolute moron when you read or count money. He quite literally spent half an hour counting three bills! How ridiculous is that?” Angel exclaimed, his voice fluctuating in pitch due to the alcohol.

In fact, all of you were a bit tipsy. Each of you displayed it differently—Angel was very excitable and giggly, you felt more sleepy, inclined to lie down, and Husk was more tactile, currently holding one of your hands while using the other to pet your head between sips of his drink.

That last part finally seemed to dawn on Angel, and he couldn’t help but point it out to both of you.

“So, did y’all fuck?” The effeminate fellow inquired.

“What?” You and Husk asked simultaneously, both of you pulling away from each other, visibly flustered.

“I mean, you’ve been getting cozy since we sat down, and I get that you two are ‘friends,’” Angel sarcastically emphasized the word 'friends' with air quotes, “but honestly, every time we get together and drink, you two are always holding each other. Sure, you're not openly cuddling and all, but I can’t remember the last time you weren’t holding hands when drinking. So, I think it’s reasonable for me to ask if you two are fucking” Angel explained his logic, leaving both you and Husk to face the current situation.

Despite Husk initiating the physical contact himself and you allowing it, as well as both of you holding hands, neither of you were aware of how intimate your actions appeared until Angel mentioned it.

It seems somewhat unbelievable, but it’s true.

Neither of you were consciously planning it; your bodies simply expressed your subconscious desire to be close to each other without either of you realizing it.

“Um, no, we didn’t,” you tell Angel, your voice quieter than before out of embarrassment.

“Yeah, we haven’t done anything like that,” Husk admits, matching your tone. Usually, even when talking to Angel, who was a dear friend to both of you, Husk would be more closed off about the sexual or romantic aspect of his afterlife. But the alcohol and the close proximity to you—his comfort person—seemed to have helped him be more open.

Taking a gulp of his drink and finishing it, Angel then speaks up once more. “Then do y’all wanna hook up?” he asks nonchalantly, to which both of you reply with a simultaneous “Angel!”

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," he says, accompanied by a laugh. The conversation is dropped, yet both you and Husk couldn't help but still glance at one another throughout the night, sometimes even making eye contact, which left both of you further flustered.

After Angel's comment, the next few days between you and Husk were awkward as both of you became more aware of each other's thoughts.

Neither of you outright rejected the idea of sexual attraction, and to be honest, you both had a feeling that the other felt similarly when it came to romance.

It was just awkward to actually express it, so for about a week or so, you avoided each other.

But soon the awkward tension began to dissipate. You were just more aware of each other's and your own actions, so if someone did something that crossed the lines of just being friendly, both of you would be aware of it being intentional.

For example, just like now as Husk is teaching you how to play pool;

There's nothing wrong or inappropriate about teaching your friend pool. Even when your friend corrects your form, it's still an innocent action to help you enjoy the game further as you learn the proper way to play.

However, Husk didn’t just show you how to score and watched what you did then correct your flawed form.

No, no, no, Mr. Husk over there didn’t even bother showing you beforehand how to score. He just directly positioned himself behind you, grabbed your hands, and guided you to grab the cue stick, all the while softly whispering in your ear as he directed your movements, explaining what he was doing and how it affects gameplay.

As to why Husk became so bold after a week of avoiding each other, you weren’t sure. And truth be told, he was just tired of burying his feelings deep down to avoid ruining your friendship, especially now that he knew you felt the same way he did.

That day, when you first opened up about your struggles, he felt a deep connection to you.

And when you bought him the watch, it struck a chord with him. Although he wasn’t usually one to focus on material possessions, the fact that you had spent so much on him so effortlessly meant a lot.

Especially when you insisted on him keeping it, expressing that you wanted him to have something nice.

In that moment, he felt deeply cared for, his heart racing as you assured him he deserved it and that he was dear to you.

So today, he decided to take matters into his own hands. If he had misinterpreted your signals and you rejected him, at least he would have tried, rather than spending eternity wondering ‘what if?’

"Then you do it like this," he says as he guides your hands through the motion, and you score. "You’re doing so good.” he murmurs softly near your ear. You'd like to think about the fact that praise wasn't necessary since he was literally guiding your movements, but all you could think about now is; how nice it feels to be so close to Husk. The warmth of his body against yours, how good his voice sounded so close to your ear—it's overwhelming.

Feeling like you might lose yourself if you don't act, you release the pool cue and turn to face him. Well, by facing him, I mean doing so while nearly touching faces due to how close you were to begin with. It stuns both of you for a moment, but you refuse to back down.

Leaning against the pool table for support, you muster the courage to address Husk. "Husk, um, you're really close right now..." you start, but instead of moving away, he questions, "Do you not like it?"

Feeling even more nervous, you realize lying won't work. You couldn't keep up a falsehood when it would be so obviously untruthful, and you didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "No, I like it," you admit.

"Is that all you like?" he probes further, his boldness surprising you. Before you can formulate a response, he adds, "Because I not only like being this close to you, but I also absolutely adore you." simultaneously softly caressing your cheek.

You're left breathless, muttering a quiet "fuck.." because what else could you say in this moment, besides confessing the to the man you've been attracted to since day one of meeting each other and felled in love with only a couple of months into knowing him.

But before Husk could misinterpret your use of a swear as you not being into him, you summoned all your courage and spoke out, "I also like you, Husk. Like, a lot. I found you hot since I first saw you, and soon after, I started falling for you, it’s an ‘in love-type’ of like you."

"Shit," he exclaimed, covering his mouth in disbelief. "I've also found you attractive since day one, and I think I've been in love with you since you gave me that watch," he continued, lifting the arm wearing it to showcase it. "More specifically, how you were acting towards me when you did it."

You paused for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "So, what do you want to do now?" you asked him.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Right now, all I want is to be as close as possible to you, which is far from my usual way of behaving; I'm usually more planned and collected, but when I'm with you now, I feel like I've lost my compass. Yet instead of being anxious, I feel safe and comfortable. Isn't that weird?" he mused.

"I'm not sure if it is, but if it were, would it be weirder if I felt the same way?" you asked him, to which he chuckled.

"No, I don't think it would be weirder," he replied, his hand still resting on your cheek, which you leaned into it, almost resting your head's weight completely on it.

You gazed longingly at each other for about a minute or two until you broke the silence. "So, do you want to make out?" you asked, with ‘that’ slight goofiness in your voice that Husk had come to love.

"Fuck yeah!" Husk exclaimed, mirroring your tone of voice.

His hands transitioned from holding your face and the cue stick to one of them softly gripping your hair from the back of your head —pulling you in— while the other rested on the small of your back for support.

Then your lips finally connected:

As your lips met, you felt an explosion of passion and chemistry that you had never experienced before. Your heart raced, and your pulse pounded in your ears as your mouths danced.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Husk, the gruff and often apathetic demon you befriended, was kissing you with so much intensity and desire. It was as if all his pent-up emotions and feelings were released in that single moment.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him, and you could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. You kissed hungrily like your (after)lives depended on it, your tongues entwining in a dance that made you shiver — especially the texture of your companion’s.

His tongue was in between one of a human and one of cat, it wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite actually. It did make you wonder how it would feel on other areas of your body. Also, something else to note was that he tasted like whiskey and smoke and honestly —you couldn't get enough.

Continuing on your movements, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting every inch of him. He groaned softly against your lips at that, breaking the kiss for a moment, and you could see the ‘need’ and ‘want’ in his eyes. They were filled with passion and affection, just like yours. He moved to kiss your jawline, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly, feeling his warm breath against your skin.

After a quick swipe at your collarbones, Husk's lips returned to yours, this time with even more fervor.

His kiss was deep and intense, as if he was trying to consume every part of you.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling his soft fur under your fingers. You could feel his muscles through it, and you loved the feeling. His hands shifted from the small of your back to my waist, pulling you closer to him, your bodies pressed tightly together.

The heat from your bodies mingled, creating an intoxicating warmth between you — a warmth you never wanted to ever quit.

As the intensity of the kiss lessened, your lips started to meet in smaller, delicate pecks. These little kisses were just as passionate as the previous ones, but they carried a different kind of emotion—endearment and love.

Each kiss was more intimate and loving than the last, sealing your connection in a way that words could never explain. Your hands still roamed each other, exploring, but with a gentleness to them.

Husk's hands moved from your waist to your sides, and you could feel his thumbs softly tracing circles on your waist. One of your hand still rested on his back, stroking softly, feeling every muscle, while the other was somewhat on his shoulder.

Finally, breaking the sweet pecks, you pulled away slightly, both panting and slightly out of breath. Your eyes locked, filled with a feelings so profound it was evident you had fallen hard for each other.

Husk gently grabbed the hand that was in his shoulder, pressing it to his lips with a soft kiss. His gaze met yours once again, and you could see the love and adoration shining in his eyes.

"You're so beautiful." Husk whispered, reaching out and gently cupping your face once more.

"Thanks, Husk. You're quite handsome yourself," you tell him with a smile. Then you add, "Anywho, does that mean we're dating now?"

"I'd like that, if you'll have me," he responds.

"There isn't anybody else I'd rather be with." you assure him.

After placing one last kiss on your lips, Husk says, "Same here."

It had been around two weeks since your mutual confession of feelings. Initially, you attempted to keep things low-key by staying in your separate rooms.

However, the amount of time spent together and the display of affection made it evident to everyone in the hotel that you were now a couple.

So, after just a week of attempting to maintain the facade, you both gave up and you moved into Husk's room.

Fast forward to today, the morning had been bustling with preparations for the arrival of Charlie's father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, after she received a call from him.

You pitched in with baking cookies and tidying up, alongside the other residents, to ensure the hotel looked presentable.

Unfortunately, given the hotel's initial state, it wasn't entirely surprising when the chandelier unexpectedly crashed from the ceiling.

What did caught you off guard was the sudden musical performance by the King of Hell, which Alastor swiftly joined, leading to an impromptu song battle between them. Though, the outcome remained undecided, as the duel was interrupted by Mimzy —apparently one of Alastor’s acquaintance— as she introduced herself.

Later down the road, after bothering your boyfriend at the bar, calling him ‘whiskers’, etc., Mimzy then engaged Angel, Pentious, and you in conversation about Alastor and her relationship with him.

But you found yourself more focused on your boyfriend slipping away than on her anecdotes. Consequently, instead of remaining there to listen to her babble, you decided to discreetly follow your boyfriend.

And now, you found yourself hiding around the corner, eavesdropping on the ongoing conversations;

"So once we have proof of redemption as possible, this whole hotel will be full of demons wanting to check out into heaven. We just need a little more time to prove it," you overhear Charlie say, but the voices grow distant, making it hard to catch the rest.

What you do clearly hear is a "Hey boss" from Husk, followed by a questioning hum from Alastor. Then Husk adds, "Can I have a word?"

"What is it?" Alastor responds.

"You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something, that bitch is trouble. And who knows what kind of demon she fucked with to come running into you this time." Husk points out.

"It's nothing I can't handle. Don't worry, Husker. Who in their right mind would cross me?" Alastor replies.

"I mean, you've been gone a while, and it's not like anybody knows why," Husk states.

"They don't need to know, and don't you worry your fuzzy head about it," Alastor dismisses.

"You may own my soul, but I ain’t your pet," Husk asserts.

Following a giggle, Alastor tells Husk, "But you are."

You're about to jump out to defend Husk, but after husk retorted with “Big talk for someone who is also on a leash.“, the atmosphere shifts, with lights flickering, leaving you petrified, especially after hearing a threatening "What did you say?"

You hear the sounds of chains and a thud, and you can only assume Alastor has dragged Husk to the floor.

"Nothing, I, um," your heart sinks at the panic in his voice, but it drops deeper once you hear Alastor's venomous words: "If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me."

Husk lets out a very quiet "Understood," and Alastor replies, "Lovely," then some subdued show tunes music starts playing, then Alastor added a "Good talk, my good man. Always nice to catch up."

After the radio demon's steps fade into silence, you finally step out of your hiding spot and rush to a trembling Husk on the floor. The first thing you do is give him a tight hug and whisper softly, "It’s going to be okay, baby. I’m here with you, Husk."

In that moment, you feel a plethora of emotions—concern and worry for Husk, fear because of Alastor, and guilt due to the fact you had stayed hidden while Husk faced Alastor alone, which makes you feel really shitty. But before guilt can consume you, you focus on getting Husk to somewhere secured, like your shared room. Once he's in a safe place, you can apologize.

With your help, Husk manages to stand up, but he's still too shaken up to walk alone. You guide him to the room, and once inside, you help him onto the bed, both of you holding each other tightly.

You softly stroked the back of his head while placing gentle kisses on his forehead. As you do, you can hear him slightly sniffle, holding back tears. It's obvious he's scared, and it's completely understandable.

You kiss his closed eyelids, and finally, the dam broke. He buries his face into your chest, and by the sounds and the wet feeling of your top, you can tell he's crying. He usually handles Alastor’s antics well, but having his soul threatened like that was just too much for him. You squeeze him tighter, whispering sweet nothings and comforting words.

“You’re going to be okay. I know it was terrifying, what you had to face. It would be for anyone. But it’s going to be okay,” you assure him, stroking his fur. Then you speak out once more, “I am so, so sorry, my love. I should have faced him with you, but I was too much of a coward to do so, so I just stayed hidden.” you apologize, and for the first time since burying himself in your chest, Husk peeks his head out. His face looks puffy from the tears, but what stands out is the empathetic look in his eyes.

“It’s… it’s okay, Y/N. Alastor—that guy, he’s terrifying. I don’t blame you for not jumping in when he got all crazy like that.” he reassures, but you can't rid yourself of the remorse.

“But I should have! That's my duty as your partner, to stand by you! What if he had snapped, and… and,” you say, strong but full of guilt. As you reach the last part, you start to stutter as thoughts rush into your head, and quieter you say, “and he had acted out on those threats.”

As Husk listened to you apologize, he couldn't help but pull you closer, his heart aching for the pain you knew you felt. His fingers traced gently along your soft skin, trying to soothe the distress within you. "Y/N, it's alright... I understand why you didn't intervene," He whispered, trying to make you feel better. His gaze fell upon your damp eyes, and he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. "Alastor has a way of intimidating even the strongest of us, and you're no exception."

"I've been dealing with him for years, and it's taken a toll on me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t expect you do anything in that moment, it would have potentially put you in harms way if you did. But know this, I appreciate that you came to comfort me when I needed it most." He could feel your heart pounding against his, and he held you tighter, hoping to ease your anxiety.

"I won’t get into that creepy smiling freak’s way, so he won’t do anything to me, I promise," Husk added, offering a small smile.

As you and him embraced, you felt your hearts beat in sync. Your love for each other was strong, and you knew that together, you could weather any storm.

"Mm, I guess you’re right, Husk," you said softly, your hand stroking his back in a comforting motion. "Despite my guilt, I know we’re both doing the best we can, and I'll always support you no matter what." Your words filled him with a sense of security, knowing that you were there for him through thick and thin.

"I'm glad we're in this together," he replied, his tone soft and grateful. "Even if I wasn't there for you when you needed me today, remember that I'll always have your back, no matter what Alastor throws your and our way." You tell him.

Slowly, you began to ease the tension between us by changing the subject. "Hey, do you remember that time we went to that haunted carnival in the outskirts of Hell for one of Charlie’s activity? And we got stuck on that horribly broken down Ferris wheel?" you chuckled, thinking back to the ridiculous adventure we embarked on. "We were both terrified, but we laughed our asses off, eventually.”

As he recalled the haunted carnival adventure, a soft smile formed on his face, and you couldn't help but join in his laughter. "Oh, that was a nightmare! The way we clung to each other while trying to escape that damned Ferris wheel, and we still ended up covered in cotton candy," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "I thought we'd never make it out alive."

"And don't forget about the ghostly fortune teller who told us we would be together forever," he added, giggling. "I mean, look at us now – ‘living’ proof that she was right!"

Your shared memories brought a warmth to your hearts, and tou continued to laugh about your past misadventures, pushing away the shadows of your current worries. Together, you found solace in the lightness of laughter and the strength of your bond. As you reminisced, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his heart overflowing with gratitude for this moment.

"You know, Y/N," he said, my voice warm and filled with love, "I wouldn't want to face any challenge with anyone else by my side.”

The warmth of his words washed over you, and he knew that he wanted to show you how much he appreciated your unwavering support. Leaning in, he whispered softly, "I'm glad you were here to comfort me. To show my appreciation, I want to give you something in return – a little treat for being there when I needed it most."

“Husk, baby, you know I didn’t do it for a reward.” You argue

“But I want to.” He tells you, with a look full of passion, his eyes drifted lower, taking in the sight of your delicate shorts, and he knew what he wanted to do next. And that made you weak, and you sorta blanked.

Gently, he untangled the fabric from your legs, revealing your soft, inviting skin. "Please, let me make you feel loved and appreciated too," he said, his voice low and full of desire.

As he next removed your underwear, he could feel your protests beginning to fade under the intensity of my gaze. With a determined smile, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to your skin. "I want to reward you, Y/N," he explained, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh. "Let me show you how much your support means to me."

Husk, typically recognized for his gruff exterior, revealed a tender side as he concentrated on satisfying you. His lips delicately trailed along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, eliciting shivers down your spine.

Understanding the necessity of getting your mind off things if you wanted to get better —as dwelling only exacerbates the pain— he found solace in showering his beloved girlfriend with feelings of desire and appreciation. In his view, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, serving to uplift both of your spirits, a win-win per say;

Gently, folding your legs and pushing on your thighs to stabilize you, Husk then parted your folds with his free hand, his eyes locked on the sight before him. He took a deep breath, inhaling your sweet scent, which only intensified his desire. With a purposeful hunger, he removed his hand and opted to substitute it with his tongue.

He leaned in and licked you, his tongue exploring every inch of your folds, the sensation was supreme, especially with that unusual tongue of his. As the wet muscle adventures further in your nether’s, its odd texture only becomes more pleasurable.

Especially when he would suck at your clit and let the tip of his tongue dance around it as he did. Every stroke, every caress; they spoke volumes of his appreciation for your unwavering support.

Your breath hitched as pleasure slowlybegin to build into something bigger. The intensity of Husk's actions were overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan in response.

"Husk, I..." you murmured, uncertain if you should continue, your voice trembling with a mix of lust, love, and ‘the obvious fact that he was making you feel too good to speak normally’. But before you could protest or anything like that, he silenced you with another expert stroke of his tongue, his eyes meeting yours with determination and love.

As Husk continued to pleasure you, he knew his actions were doing more than just giving you physical gratification; they were conveying his appreciation for your presence in his life—and that sentiment was mutually understood. And he loved that he could do it that way and you would both comprehend it.

Bringing back his hand into the mix , his skilled fingers—carefully used not to scratch you— and tongue worked in harmony, driving you towards a climax that mirrored the depth of his feelings. Your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of your pleasure, and he couldn’t help but relish in ‘those lovely noises of yours’.

With a final flick of his tongue, Husk drew you to the edge, your body arching in response. "That's it, baby" he whispered, his voice low and seductive, yet still comforting. "Let go for me, let me see you shine."

In that moment, you surrendered to the sensations coursing through you, your body trembling and your last scream of pleasure echoing in the room. Husk watched as you reached your peak, his heart swelling with pride…

As you begin to come down from your high but not quite over it yet, Husk couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful state your real ease had caused. His heart continued to race as he regained steady breathing after momentarily being out of air while devouring you, he couldn’t help but want to experience it again. Softly, he lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, giving himself better access to your glistening hole and folds.

“Wait, husk I-“ you begin after realizing the change in position but you were promptly cut off as husk begin to lap at your essence directly from the source.

"You deserve this, my love," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. "I want to make you feel good, as much as you've made me feel supported."

With renewed vigor, Husk dove in once more, his tongue tracing familiar paths and exploring new ones. Your breath jiggered, and your back arched as he took you on another sensual journey that started in overstimulation. His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, taking full control—you couldn’t run even if you want to.

He aims directly at your weak spot, and way he was sucking at your clit was just driving you absolutely mad. You gripped at his head, still unsure if you wanted to pull him away or bring him closer. He was precise and targeting but there was some hungry sloppiness to his technique.

As your second climax approached, Husk could feel your body tense, and he knew that he was about to witness something truly beautiful once more. Your cries of pleasure grew louder, and just as promised, the way your body convulsed and your face contorted was marvellous, what was not expected but still welcome was the fact that you had squirted, causing your arousal to coat his face and chest.

His eyes widened in awe, and he couldn't help but smirk at the sight. "Damn, you're something else." he said, his voice filled with want but also a little teasing tone to it.

Even as you settled back onto the bed flat, Husk couldn't shake off the image of squirting. His eyes locked on your glistening skin, and he knew that he wanted to see it again. His hand travel to your face, thumb brushing lips sensually, a longing look in his eyes "One more, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I want to taste you again and see that beauty of yours unfold once more."

With a hunger that rivalled the one he had when bringing you to your first two climaxes, Husk dove in for the third time, his tongue seeking out your sensitive spots.

He craved the taste of your essence, the sound of your cries, and the sight of your strong release. You soon begin to trembled beneath him, quicker than previously but it was understandable, two orgasm in a row was about to make extra sensitive.

“Ah, fuck, Husk, it's too much!” You cried out in overstimulation.

“Shh, it's okay, baby, I know you can handle it,” he reassured, softly stroking the underside of your right thigh to offer comfort before getting his strong grip back on it.

As Husk continued to stimulate you, drawing you closer to nirvana, you found yourself liberated from all worries. In that moment, there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

As your third orgasm of the night peaked, you let out a final cry, your body convulsing with overwhelming euphoria. Once more, you squirted, coating Husk's face with your essence. This time, however, he caught most of your fluid in his moth and swallowed them, and the drops that didn’t make, he licked them off of you, his eyes close for an instances as he savoured your liquid arousal, then his eyes locked back on you.

"Oh, Husk," you breathed, your voice ragged with pleasure and emotion. "That was incredible."

He wiped the remaining droplets from his face with a satisfied grin and licked at it to make sure he gotten everything, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, his voice filled with love and satisfaction.

As you lay there, breathless and spent, Husk pulled you into his arms, his heart beating in his chest. Regaining back some of your sense, this scenery confused you a bit:

“What about you?” You inquired as he had yet to get release himself.

“Honestly the emotions and the time I spent between those sexy thighs of yours got me to tired to want anything more than to cuddle you right now.” he admired with a tired smile, which made giggle.

Your bodies still entwined, Husk leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours. The kiss was soft, filled with love and appreciation, and it left you both feeling even more connected than before. Right here and there, you knew that despite the challenges you faced further down the road, you were in this together.

Slowly, Husk wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you felt safe and loved in his arms. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "The cuddling, reassuring words, and this; they really help me calm down and feel better. I know I can rely on you when you do these things, and I strongly hope you can on me."

You nestled your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Of course I do, and don’t forget—I'll always be here for you, Husk," you promised, your voice filled with reassurance. "No matter what comes our way, I'll have your back, just like you do for me."

As the two cuddled and basking in the afterglow of your shared euphoria, you knew that your bond had grown stronger. Nothing could bother the two of you right now—except perhaps the fact that you would have to get up to bathe and change the sheets soon, but that was a problem for the ‘30 minutes to one hour future yous.’

Thanks anons for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Likes & Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

[loupetlapinn]

how do you feel abt noncon with jeonghan? i feel like he’d be so patronizing and mean…like MEAN MEAN i’m talking degrading and mocking you, forcing you to take all of him in your mouth and cunt…

(also im so glad ur account came across my fyp, there’s not much dark svt content)

oh anon this is jeonghan's Domain ok. OH ANON. youre so right, listen.

t/w: noncon, coercion, unprotected sex. a/n: MDNI. dear anon i got carried away. unbetad is my brand. synopsis: jeonghan is just so very mean. w/c: 1.6k . . . feel free to block me.

( glad you found me too. )

He'd always start off so innocently, under the guise of a caring sort of authoritative figure to you. He likes reminding you that he's older than you so he obviously knows what's best for you.

Always 'just trying to make sure you're okay' with near intimate touches ghosting areas you were sure was inappropriate given the circumstances. But he always made it seem like you were being ungrateful when he was just asking a simple question, he was only trying to soothe the apparent tension.

It got to a point where you would try and avoid him, your chest seizing if you catch a glimpse of him in your peripheral, or his voice ringing out a little too close to wherever you were. A part of you felt guilty, maybe you were making things up in your head. Maybe you thought too much of yourself to think he was making advances, he hadn’t actually done anything explicitly wrong . . . He was just being attentive, he even buys you food, remembers the way you like your coffee. He hadn’t even done anything really but there was something that always lingered with you afterwards. Something just felt . . . off. This feeling only further escalated to the point your stomach would be in knots, scampering off quickly to find some nook to hide in to avoid his suffocating presence. Growing tired of trying to politely dodge his wandering eyes and occasionally entitled hands. His mere presence put you on edge. 

“I have to go,” you’d offer a sad excuse before you’re once again scurrying off. You felt like a coward, not sure as to why because although you’ve been polite and discrete as possible about it; you have expressed your discomfort and lack of interest in his wolfish attentions.

Yet, in spite of your efforts to avoid him you still somehow find yourself alone with him more than you’d like. 

“Oh . . . I didn’t um . . .” You clear your throat, immediately taking steps back towards the entrance after an uneasy dip of your head in his direction to acknowledge him before you turned tail and ran the opposite direction once again.

“Didn’t expect to see me?” He smiles, that smile. That completely, utterly Jeonghan smile that you’ve grown to dread seeing.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you. I have to—“

“Go?” he interrupts, head cocking to the side as those dark, hooded eyes glimmer. Akin to a cat finding a mouse to toy with in its idle boredom. 

“You always have to go,” a ghosting of a pout follows his words. His eyes remain emotionless even as he feigns a wounded expression. “If I didn’t know any better . . . I’d think you were avoiding me, Y/N.”

“N-no!” You fumble your words like an idiot, grimacing at yourself. Getting ahead of yourself to placate his invasive tone. “No, not at all. Just, have some deadlines to meet, that’s all.”

Before he has a chance to respond, you’re zipping away. Not wanting to stand there and squirm under the weight of his gaze any longer. Only able to take a sigh of relief once you’re a safe distance away. Heart thudding in your chest.

You swear he does it on purpose, strings you along and riles you up. He likes the way you squirm, he likes the stuttered breaths you take, the way your gaze can’t keep his own, your antsy fingers restless at your sides.

It doesn’t take much longer, Jeonghan can only be so patient. Until he isn’t. He pounces when you least expect it, after letting you think that maybe he took a hint and eased off of you.

“I don’t know why you have to act like such a brat,” he muses with a drawl of agitation as he quite literally corners you.

A shiver runs down your spine and you’re not sure if it’s because of the way he sizes you up as he begins to crowd you, or the coolness of the wall against your skin as you press yourself back against it. Swallowing thickly you shake your head, wide eyed as you peer up at him. He reveled in the way you trembled, the look of distressed confusion etched onto your features as his hands soothe up your sides. Slender yet firm as he palms your chest lazily through your shirt and there it was again. That signature Jeonghan smile, it twists his lips, curling the corners of his mouth as he can’t help but purr his amusement.

“All I’ve ever done is try to be nice to you,” he continues, ignoring the way your hand wraps around his wrist as you urge him to some sort of mercy. “And this is how you repay me? Didn’t anyone ever teach you any manners?”

“Don’t worry,” he coos, his free hand abruptly twisting around locks of your hair, sharply angling your face upwards for your eyes to meet his own as you find yourself grimacing again. Those eyes, they looked as though he could swallow you whole right then and there, a snake coiling around its prey. Your heart lurches before plummeting to the depths of your stomach. “I’ll teach you.”

“Jeonghan . . . Jeonghan, please,” you finally find your voice.

He looks at you confounded, head tilting, a brow raising quizzically, “Please? Honey, we have’t even started yet.” An incredulous scoff follows, “I suppose it’s not a bad start though.”

“I’m sorry, really,” you plead and he just gazes at you blankly before offering a sickeningly sweet smile.

It’s a blur, everything. Your shirt yanked down to exposed your chest, he tsk’s at your bra before he’s pulling at that too. Both hands grasping at supple mounds, they’re cold against your skin and your face contorts, nipples hardening under the pads of deft fingers. Pressing yourself further back against the wall as if flattening yourself there would render you invisible, pushing away his hands.

“If you’re so sorry then you’ll make it up to me,” he snaps, his tone even. Eerily steady but it slices through the air as his eyes bore into you, you could feel the heat on your flesh.

A strangled gasp sounds form you as a hand darts to wrap around your throat, his grip bruising.

“What did I fucking say about being a brat, Y/N?” His voice barely a whisper, as your faces are barely inches apart. You could smell the faintest scent of his cologne, it tickles your nose as your mouth gapes. His fingers dig into your skin. “You say thank you when someone’s nice to you.”

One moment your against the wall and the next your forced onto your back upon the nearest table, you’re sputtering, the tight feeling from your neck and chest relieved slightly as you gulp down breaths of air greedily. Coughing from your eagerness to fill your lungs. As you struggle to stop seeing white, Jeonghan takes the liberty discarding your bottoms.

You looked much better like this, spread across the table, eyes unfocused, trying to catch your breath. It wasn’t his fault that he had to teach you a lesson, if you had just behaved in the first place he wouldn’t have had to take this route.

“Now, let’s try that again,” he says, splaying spindly digits upon your thighs to push them apart. Forcefully when you still have the audacity to shake your head tearfully and try to press them back together. It’s pointless and you both know it, thinking you could really keep him from what he wants.

You cry out, head thrown back against the table as his length pushes past your entrance. A slew of curses uttered under his breath as he makes sure to fit every last inch of his cock inside on you. Hissing at the way you spasm around him, the way your body writhes at the sensation of your unprepared heat being breached. The stretch burns, but it matters not to Jeonghan as he experimentally pulls in and out before slamming his hips flush against you.

“What do you fucking say, Y/N?” his voice his guttural, hands squeezing your thighs in a way that would surely leave bruises.

“J-Jeonghan— please,” you whimper out only to keen as he responds with a reprimanding thrust, each more merciless than the last before his fingers find your hair again. “I’m s-sorry— I’m sorry! T-Thank you,” your words minced, unsteady as winces and whimpers follow.

“What was that?” he snickers, hips jackhammering against you, wrapping your hair around his hand to keep a firm grasp on you. To entice more of those fat tears that brim your lashes and trickle down your face. “I can’t understand you when you don’t speak properly, stupid little thing. Now you can’t even talk right? Will I have to teach you that as well?”

Jeonghan can’t help the groans that follow every time you constrict around him, accompanied by the pitiful noises that you seem to have an unending amount of.

“You seem to take cock just fine,” he observes aloud and you bleat out at the savage snap of his hips, “One less thing to teach you.”

He uses your locks as leverage, watching your face twist into pathetic expressions, mascara running down your face as he tortuously continues to wrench at your hair to pull you down to meet his thrusts. “Say it.”

“Thank . . . you.”

“Say it.”

“Thank you, Jeonghan!”

Jeonghan makes sure to drop you to your knees to cum in your mouth when he’s done with you, rivulets of pearlescent release pouring past your lips. Missing purposefully to paint your face to enjoy the fucked out look upon your features.

“A fucking mess,” his voice almost accusatory, like it was all your fault.

“Maybe next time, if you fucking behave for once. You can cum too.”

[bunniesanddeer]

My Little Light: Part One

This is a request! From @animeloveruwu1234

Alrighty, thank you!:)<3 So, I wanted to ask for a fluff request for Alastor x light! female doe reader meets him because her light shadow(I don’t know what to call it🙂‍↕️) likes his shadow. She meets him and gets so shy around him that it gets to the point that she faints every time he comes around her. Just toothrotting fluff!!:)

So this is actually part one of three! Sorry, I intended it to be two parts, but it was running longer than I was expecting. Part one is from MC's POV, Part two is Alastor, and Part three is smut, with no plot, so no one is going to miss anything if they can't/or don't like to read smut. :)

Pairing: Alastor x Doe!Reader

Warnings: Reader passes out twice, super early set up, next part focuses on fluff!

Word Count: 1,877

You slipped between demons on the busy sidewalk, twisting yourself this way and that way. You watched your little light friend stretch herself across the cracked pavement, flat expression twisting up in joy. With a smile, you followed her whims without much thinking, and found yourself in a calmer section of downtown. The strange being flattened across the wall beside you, and her eyes crinkled. 

If anyone had asked you, when you were alive, how you would feel about a two-dimensional figure made of light, that acted like a shadow, following you everywhere in Hell, you would have been quite confused. Even now, after having lived in Hell for a few years, you didn’t completely understand your companion, or how she came to be. She could separate from you, leaving you entirely shadowless, but you still had some control over her. The light-shadow was autonomous, and yet you knew if you told her to do something, she would. You had taken to calling her Lyra in your head. 

You leaned against the building, and watched her form flicker about as something caught her attention. Your ear twitched, and you watched hers follow suit. Suddenly, her shape wavered, and her head flipped in the other direction. Her excitement was evident in the way she suddenly stretched her body across the ground, and reached flat claws across the road, pointing at something you couldn’t see. With a small sigh, you push off from the wall, and make your way across the road.

“Whatever could have your attention,” you huff. Your head turns in each direction as you follow her pointing claws. Your ears swivel and twitch. Something in you is suddenly on high alert, and yet Lyra urges you to keep going. “If I get torn apart, I blame you entirely. You’ll get ignored for a week after I reform.” 

Lyra ignores you, and crawls up a wall beside the door to a tailor shop. Her sharp grin stretches farther, and she keeps her eyes locked on the door. 

“What are you doing? What’s got you so worked up?” You take a look around, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. And then your ears catch it; the subtle sound of static. Your heart starts pounding. You know what that sound means. 

He had disappeared shortly before you landed in Hell, but the scary posters and warnings you constantly got from other sinners let you know to be wary. And then he had suddenly reappeared in the company of the princess six months ago. You had heard his voice on the radio, of course. Who hadn’t? His broadcasts were impossible to ignore. He had a charming voice and the kind of charisma that made him hard to forget. And that static. It followed his voice, his very presence like a heavy fog, blanketing everything around him. That thought clicked, and you realized what was going to happen only moments before it did. 

The door to the tailor shop opened, a twinkling bell following the motion, and out stepped Alastor, The Radio Demon. You turned a harsh gaze to Lyra, who wasn’t even looking at the demon, but at his feet. You followed her gaze for only a second, and saw a writhing black shape in his shadow. With haste, you whipped your gaze away, and turned around, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he wouldn’t notice you. 

With heaving breaths you tried to focus yourself, and walk away, but Lyra squirmed, frowning at you. She clawed at the ground, and warped her form to gather closer to where you knew Alastor was still standing. Suddenly she tugged harshly, chasing something you couldn’t see, and pulled you with her. You didn’t know she could do that! At the tug, your hooves struggled to make contact with the ground, and you started to tumble backwards. 

“Ahh!” You let out a harsh cry, and internally braced for hitting the harsh concrete. Instead, however, you were caught by warm, sturdy arms. You let out a huff, and went to thank the person. You looked up and said, “Ah, thank you-” and finally caught the gaze of your savior. Alastor. Alastor The Radio Demon. Alastor The Radio Demon just caught you. Holy shit. Your eyes widen, and your ears pin back. “Oh,” you mutter, and the world goes black. 

Your hearing comes back to you first. Two voices are whispering to each other, and the gruffer voice’s volume picks up just enough for you to hear, “-you have to admit that it’s suspicious. You know he has been acting strange ever since he came back from licking his wounds. Why would he suddenly help some rando-”

The other voice, lighter and with a twinge of something like hope, responds, “I don’t know, Vaggie, but isn’t this a good sign? When was the last time he did something without being prompted? Something that wasn’t obviously for his own gain?”

You hear the other person sigh, and it is then that you decided to try and peel your eyes open. It takes several blinks to get used to the redness of the room. Eventually, your sight clears, and you search the room for the people who were just talking. Across from you, on a couch much like the one you’re lying on, are two women. One has gray hair, and is looking up at who you immediately recognize as Princess Charlie.

“Uh, hello?” You call, trying to gather their attention. Charlie turns her head wickedly fast, and her face is split by a happy smile as she hops up from the couch. 

“Oh yay! You’re awake!” You gather yourself, sitting up and removing your legs from the couch as you watch her nearly hop in her excitement. “I have so many questions, but first! Are you okay? Al said you passed out.”

At the mention of Alastor, the blood drains from your face. You are absolutely not okay, but it also seems that he helped you after your embarrassing debacle earlier, so you just whisper, “Uh, I’m okay.”

She squeaks, and then sits next to you. “So, how’d you meet Alastor? He was super vague!” 

“Honestly?” You take a glance at the other woman, who has her arms folded, and is watching with a wary gaze. “I was walking down the street, following my companion, and she dragged me over to this tailor. I wasn’t really thinking about much, but then out comes Alastor!” You throw up your arms, disbelief lacing your tone. “And she’s just kicking and clawing her way over towards him, and she trips me! And then he caught me. And I passed out as soon as I made eye contact.”

You rub at your head, shame filling you, rising with the heat in your face. You feel so silly. 

Charlie lets out a little giggle, and then asks, “Where’s this companion?”

You purse your lips, then take a glance at the women again. They’re fine, probably. Right? You internally shrug, and then wave your hand; out pops Lyra, her white form shimmering across the carpet. 

“What the hell,” the other woman says. She gives you a strange look. “Do all deer demons have these? Alastor has the same damn thing, it just looks like an actual shadow.” 

You frown. Someone else had this kind of companion? Alastor had this kind? Confusion floods you, so you give Lyra a curious glance. She responds with a simple toothy grin. “Is that why you were chasing him?”

Lyra’s shape flickers and warbles. She grins wider. Holy shit. She tripped you, trying to hit up another fucking shadow. What the hell. “What the fuck, Lyra.” Her shoulders and grin shake, in a mockery of laughter. You roll your eyes, waving your hand, and she disappears. 

With a palm to your head, you mutter to yourself. “What the hell is my life. Please tell me this won’t happen again.” You look up at Charlie, sheepishly. “Please tell Alastor I said thanks. I’m gonna go to my apartment and hide there for forever.” You stand and whip your pants awkwardly. “Thanks again. It was, uh, nice to meet you. Bye.”

You waver on weak legs, and go to leave the strange sitting area, when you hear him.

“Well, dear, why don’t you tell me yourself?” He’s sitting at the bar you failed to notice before. One ankle is propped on the other knee, and he’s holding a newspaper. His gaze finds yours, a sly smile on his face. 

In shock, you let out a bleat, and collapse.

Alastor’s smile shrink, just a touch, and he turns his gaze to the two women that are conscious. “As you can see, I had nothing to do with that.” 

Later that day, you’re propped up on the couch, and Alastor is leering at you from the accent chair across from you. His smile is wide and smug, and his eyes don’t stray from your form. His shadow companion, the one Lyra might’ve been chasing, is flickering in and out of view behind him. Its smile is just as wide, and it sends shivers down your spine. Every once in a while, the static that surrounds Alastor, something your brain struggles to understand, even in Hell, surges. Your ears prick and swivel every time, and it’s starting to give you a headache.

The two of you spend a time merely staring at each other. Your chest aches at the idea of trying to speak up. There are a lot of factors contributing to this, but you really don’t know what to say to the Overlord, especially Alastor. He’s just so intimidating, and you’re, well, you. Charlie and Vaggie are sitting on the other couch, whispering to each other. You can just barely hear them talking, but it’s drowned out by Alastor’s presence. 

You gulp down the spit that is slowly accumulating in your mouth, and then your mouth feels far too dry. The cotton feeling makes you scrunch up your face, and you force your eyes to wander to the strange circus themed patterns on the wallpaper. Alastor’s eyes are too much. 

Lyra takes the near silence as an opportunity to pop up. She slithers her form over to Alastor’s shadow, and you watch on in horror. You desperately want to say something, especially as Alastor’s eyebrows raise in surprise. Lyra doesn’t even look back at you as she reaches her hands out to the shadow, and grabs. Alastor’s shadow makes a strange noise, and it makes you shrink in on yourself. Alastor is gonna kill you. You had never expected to get any attention from an Overlord, and now one, (that was so similar to you, something you’d been searching for), was going to kill you.

“Aw. It seems our little companions like each other,” He says, instead. Your eyes widen, and you stare in shock. “Well, my dear, it seems we will just have to spend more time together.”

He looks like that cat that caught the canary, and your mind is on high alert. There has to be more to this, and you aren't sure how to feel. But then his smile softens, and you can’t help but feel excited. Where will The Radio Demon lead you?

Taglist: Current List: @girl-nahh-two @numetalnerd2007 @justchillingandhavingfun @alastor-simp @thonethatflies620 @lemonyboy97 @fairyv-ice @alastorssimp @wen01203

Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I will have the next part out soon, and some of my other works to follow, or just before. We had some shenanigans occur today, so I'm a little bummed. I'll try and get it done thugh, no worries!

[chaotic-archaeologist]

long time follower, first time asker... i really need some wisdom or encouragement right now. i'm in my 30s and have been working on a bachelor's degree for years, in fits and starts, with a lot of setbacks. (finally landed on history with religious studies minor, but i used to study anthropology as well.) the thing is, i recently watched a guest lecture by a wonderful religious scholar (dr. francesca stavrakopoulou) and she was so... inspiring? erudite? smart? she was incredible to listen to, she seemed so in touch with her field and was able to draw amazing connections and answer questions with references to multiple religions and languages off the top of her head, was able to recommend peers of hers by name for other specialities, it was really inspiring.

but as awesome as she was, after the lecture was finished i was a little devastated because i feel like i will never be able to achieve that level of ease and expertise no matter how much i study. i feel like a fraud, i feel like my adhd is holding me back and turning my brain into swiss cheese. it's already taking me so much longer to get a bachelor's than it should and i'm painfully aware you have to have a PhD to really work as a historian; i feel like i'm so far behind that i'll never catch up and that as i get older i'll just get worse at learning... is this imposter syndrome? am i just struggling with a plateau and need to push harder to reach the next level? am i just not cut out for academia? have other academics also struggled with this? what do i do? :( i love this field more than anything, i have wanted to study people and history since i was in high school. i don't even know what i would do with my life if not this, but i just don't know if i'm completely out of my league and living in a fantasy land or if having a career as a historian is really still possible...

You know what, I'm really glad you asked this question.

I had a very similar experience recently, where I went to an academic talk that was so well done it left me thinking well shit, I'll never be able to do something like that. But you know what? I really do think that's the imposter syndrome talking.

I'm a fan of the four stages of learning. Unconscious incompetence, conscious incompetence, conscious competence, and unconscious competence.

You and I, as upper level students, are maybe somewhere on the cusp of conscious incompetence and conscious competence, which is not an especially comfortable place to be. We're aware of how much we don't know, and when we do things, we have to try really hard to be good at them.

The talks we both watched were given by people at the level of unconscious competence. And you know how they got to that level? By doing a PhD and spending a really long time immersed in the literature. They started their learning journeys earlier, and so they know more than we do right now. Which is normal!!! At this point in our careers, we are not expected to be able to do work like this, and there's a reason for that—we're not ready yet. But with time, we will get there.

(Psst, you know what the biggest prerequisite for giving a talk like that is? It's passion and a genuine interest in your field. You can't learn that, or force it if it's not there. And it sounds like you've got it covered.)

So now I'd like to address your fears of being too old. I totally understand—ageism is real, and it's especially hard in college settings where everyone around you tends to be 1) much younger, and 2) on the high school -> college track. Not being on that track is not a moral failing. The higher education system in the United States is very hostile to anyone who doesn't perfectly fit into the university's machinery. That is a problem with academia, not with you.

I know plenty of nontraditional students who have gotten their degrees at varying ages. When they give you your diploma, it won't have your age on it or how long it took you to get your degree. What matters is that you've earned it, not when. Better now than never. Don't give up.

I would like you to try to do on thing for me: look back through your life and make a list of all the moments where you had an "aha" moment. When you realized this was something you wanted to do for the rest of your life. When you did something and felt good about it. And I do really mean write! it! down! Keep this list (and add to it) so you can look back at it. I pay attention to stuff like this when I write in my journal so I can remind myself during low moments.

Congratulations, it sounds like you're passionate about something enough to pursue it doggedly, even when things are difficult! That's something special that not everyone gets to have. I think you owe it to yourself to do your very best to pursue your dream.

-Reid

[middlingmay]

Rebel!John x Pastor's son!Gale AU

“D’you think you’re a sinning man, John?”

That was the thing Gale Cleven was best at: taking any assumptions you had or expectations you made about him, tossing them in the dirt between your legs where you lay sprawled, and grinding them down into dust under his boot while you watched.

Metaphorically speaking. But it was a metaphor John had been thinking about a lot lately.

They sat parked up in his car, a town over from Daddy Cleven’s parish. John wasn’t sure what tale Gale had spun when he escaped the old man’s clutches. But he was sure that he didn’t care.

What he did care about, very much, was the way Gale looked in the fading light. Golden hair, golden skin - even the blue of his eyes absorbed the gold of the sun as it started to make its way to bed.

His shirt buttons still stood to attention, done right up to the top and his shirt was starched so it dug a little into his throat. Evidently he’d not had a chance to change into the soft cotton collars and cardigans he preferred when he didn’t have to be at attention for the Pastor.

But in a rare display of abandon, Gale had rolled up his cuffs and stretched out his arms as he lounged in the front seat of John’s beloved car, top down. One arm dangled over the end of the door, the other stretched over the back of the seat. John had never fully appreciated that particular design feature of his Buick Super Convertible Coupe; that the two front seats ran end to end, so it was a little like sitting on a couch. Not until the first time it allowed him to press his legs against the local pastor’s son in the name of ‘getting comfortable’.

The deep red leather was soft and supple and today Gale had felt some kind of way that had him knocking his knee against John’s and draping his arm across the divide so his fingertips nearly, nearly, tickled the very edges of John’s arms - right at the top, where it met the short cuff of his t-shirt.

His mom hated this shirt - said it showed more of him than was Godly. When he paired it like he did today, with tight blue denim jeans which hugged his strong waist and showed just how thick his thighs were, she tutted and swatted his behind with whatever she was holding before she ushered him outta her door until he “learned some damn sense! What kinda girl you gonna bring home to me looking like that?”

And the longer John spent with Gale, the clearer the answer was to him. Not a damn one.

Gale was staring at him and John realised he hadn’t answered the question. He’d just been staring at Gale like some love-sick dame.

John grinned, the one that revealed his teeth as it spread, and let him bite on his lip a little on the way.

Gale’s eyes flicked to it like they always did.

“Isn’t that a given?”

But Gale was good at recovering from John’s teasing, and levelled him with his own look, head cocked, like John was a child who was being deliberately obtuse.

“Is it?” he asked. “Because depsite your reputation around town, I ain’t seen you do anything immoral.”

Immoral. John latched onto the word like it was prey; a perfect opportunity to get Gale a little worked up.

“Well which are you asking? Immoral, or sinful?”

Gale’s brown furrowed, and he looked at John all suspicious like. “I don’t follow.”

John turned his body towards Gale, his own arm coming up to the back of the seat, draping over Gale’s who didn’t budget an inch.

“They’re not the same, Buck,” he said, using the nickname Gale pretended to hate.

There. He saw it. The intrigue; the temptation to bite the bait.

“Okay. How are they different?”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Tell me what your seven sins are.”

Gale snorted. “You’re a Catholic, John. You know what they are.”

John didn’t laugh. “Say them.”

Noting the tone - the order - Gale sat up a little straighter. His arms dragged along the line of John’s as he did so. John felt it like static electricity.

“Pride.”

John nodded. “I got plenty of that. I’m proud of my car,” he gestured with his hand.

“You worked hard on it—”

“I’m proud of my looks. I like keeping my curls longer because I know what it looks like when someone wants to pull on ‘em. I like my legs,” he stretched them out a bit further and Gale’s first blush of the evening made its appearance. “They make me feel strong. And that makes me feel good. All those folks lookin’ at what I got.”

Gale was silent.

“What’s next?”

“Greed and gluttony.”

“Hm,” John made it a satisfied and contented sound. “Well, I’m not greedy for money, you know that. And if It was success and fame I was after, I’d have trotted to New York after my dad.”

Gale’s eyes softened at that, well aware of John’s tendency to self-sacrifice for the comfort of his mother and his sisters - something no one else knew apart from John’s best friend, Curt.

John was pleased to see it, that false sense of security, before he made his move. “At first, I told myself that everytime I saw you would be the last. I’d leave the pretty pastor’s son be, stop teasin’ and tormentin’ him and let him find some friends more like him.”

Blush number two.

“But each time we spoke, every time I got you to laugh, every time you caught me lookin’ - it just made me greedier, Gale. Just got me hungry.”

A soft breathe rushed from Gale’s lungs. His fists clenched where they rested. Perfect control.

“Sloth.”

John laughed, bright and happy. “The day you let me, I’ll spend the whole morning after showing you sloth, just you wait.”

Gale covered his mouth with the hand that had been resting on the door and snickered. John loved that he could make this boy, normally so solemn and serious with the weight of his father dragging him down, laugh so easily now. Gale shoved John back and inch and John let him, smiling like a fool.

“Alright, envy,” Gale said, finally getting into the game.

“Your buttons.”

Gale spluttered. “My what?”

John nodded at his buttoned up collar. “Your buttons. Your shirt.”

“You can’t be serious? You’re jealous of cloth?”

“Ah, ah,” John corrected him gleefully. “I’m envious.”

Gale rolled his eyes but John leaned over under the pretense of studying the button at the base of Gale’s throat, and the younger boy stilled like a deer. From here John could draw in the scent of him: soap something sweet, like chocolate.

A breath away from the lip of Gale’s shirt collar, John murmured,” They get to kiss ya in ways you ain’t let me, yet.”

Gale whipped his head round and John had to rear back lest he get smacked in the head, but he didn’t go far. He saw Gale walk that edge; the one between excitement and fear, both centred on what he really wanted.

The other thing John liked about Gale, was that he had a complete and utter inability to back down. In the fractional space between them now, Gale let the arm resting along the back of the seat drop in a ghost of an embrace as it curled around John where he sat. The other he slowly but deliberately brought to rest of John’s denim-clad knee, high though, and gripped like if he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to control where it went.

“Lust?” Gale whispered against his face.

And it would have been easy, so easy for John to finally bridge that distance and claim a kiss. But just like all the other times, he couldn’t help but think it had to be perfect, not easy.

Instead, he tipped forward just enough to brush his nose against Gale’s; for their eyelashes to flutter against each other, and for their stubble to catch in a delicious scrape and burn as they breathed in each other’s air.

“You have no idea,” John’s voice rumbled in the coming dusk, “the fire I got inside me for you, Gale Cleven.”

Gale’s breathe was shaky and laboured and tumbled out of him in a stutter. And then, “Don’t I?”

John dropped his head to the curve of Gale’s neck with a thud and a pained groan, and Gale chuckled, deep and syrupy now that John wasn’t stealing his breath.

But never let it be said that John Egan did not give as good as he got.

“I am a sinful man, Gale,” he spoke, just below Gale’s ear. “I don’t look at you with piety or good, clean Christian love for mankind. If you judge me based on the Good Book, you make me wanna be a very bad man.”

Gale’s hand spasmed on his leg as John felt the weight of the other man’s head rest on the back of his, just for a second.

Then John asked, “But does that make me immoral? Does that make me evil?”

Gale pulled back and looked at John with horror. He could see the refusal in Gale’s eyes that the younger man wanted to speak into the air. Of course John wasn’t evil. How could he be?

Gently, John cupped Gale’s chin between a finger and a thumb. “Does my - do my feelings for you mean I gotta burn?”

Gale closed his eyes but not before John caught the flash of hurt. Gale tilted his head down so his mouth laid in the curve of John’s palm, and in that sacred hollow he said, “I won’t let you burn, Johnny. Least not alone.”

There. As close to an admission as Gale got that John wasn’t going crazy and he wasn’t in this alone. That Gale saw John the way John saw him, and he wasn’t getting himself off every night to a damned fantasy.

With more effort than he thought he had in him, John pulled back to the driver’s seat and shook it out: all the tension, his desire, his temptation. He shook his head, rolled his shoulders, smacked his hands on the steering wheel, and when he turned to Gale he looked near pristine, but for the raw, bare look in his eyes.

“I gotta get you home,” and John said it like a vow.

A few streets away from the Pastor’s house - because even Gale didn’t make John stupid enough to tempt fate like that and Gale wouldn’t let him even if he did - Gale paused before getting out the car.

“What about wrath?”

John, who hated dropping Gale off but always appreciated the momentary but completely unobstructed view of his ass as he left the car, took a second to catch up. “Huh?”

“Wrath. You never said how you were a wrathful man. You left it out.”

And John thought back to the busted lip that started this whole thing. To subsequent red cheeks and black eyes and that one time he walked into the garage to Curt pointing viciously at the back room and finding Gale curled up on the ratty couch there under his jacket, soaked to the bone and nose red, sleeping.

He couldn’t touch Gale, now. Not around so many houses full of curtain twitchers, night time or not. But he could hold his gaze, which so many people found hard to do with the pastor’s son, and he could promise:

“I will never hurt you, Gale.”

And if he expected some heartfelt look or words at the declaration, he would have been mightily disappointed. Gale looked affronted, like John had just treated him like he was stupid.

“I know that, idjit.”

John spluttered.

“But your boys say you’re awful good a fightin’”

When he was a little younger and a lot stupider, John used to fight for the hell of it; to feel something in the wake of his father walking out his life. But now he only fought for a good reason. And Gale and his boys were very good reasons.

“I look after mine, Gale.”

And Gale bit his lip at the meaning left unsaid and wished John a goodnight, before he exited the car and walked off into the night.

John watched Gale until he turned the corner, like he always did, before he collapsed against the back of the seat and rubbed his face hard with his hands.

Gale Cleven. John was fairly sure he was going to hell for that man.

[simplydannie]

The Runaways || The Meeting

Trigger Warning ‼️

One of many sets of stories that take place in Under Rageous; detailing the lives of the twins before their rise to fame in the upper city.

Veneer discovers that a gang has been eyeing his sister…. And they have no good intentions. He warns them to leave her alone, but they scoff at his words. Anger then motivates him to take matters into his own hands.

Velvet made her from the Pit with the rations she earned for the night. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for two days…. Especially now that they were feeding a third mouth.

“Freaking Veneer.” She murmured. Her brother felt sympathy and grow attached to a little Troll they had captured nearly a year ago now; Floyd was his name. He was set to be sold to the black market, but Veneer couldn’t part with him. So, he stayed. Being so small he didn’t need too big of rations, but it was still a portion from theirs they had to cut. She took her usual route home, something she always did.

“Tables set!” Veneer chimed from the kitchen, well kind of their kitchen. Their home was a rundown studio. Instead of plastered walls, they had unmatched boards as were the floors. The studio was made up of two small floors, one floor had Velcefs bed while the other had Veneers. Right next to the bedding area was a small kitchen and a couch: at the center, a metal raised board that called a table. Today’s rations were to be delicious, at least that’s what the rumor was around the Pit.

“Table clothes? Huh, where’d we manage table clothes.” Floyd smiled as he hopped on the table. Veneer had made Floyd a tiny dark, orange denim vest. When they found him, all he had were his dark, brown worn out pants and a back pack.

“Got them in a trade! Thought it spruce up the place a bit. Don’t you think?” Veneer asked.

Floyd smiled and nodded, “Definitely gives it something. Let’s get the plates. Vels should be here any minute.”

Veneer glanced at the clock. She was only 3 minutes past her usual time…it wasn’t that bad. She’d be walking in through that door any moment…. Right?

Velvet neared her home, she paused when she saw a group of heathens waiting for her. The leader of them saw her and smiled a sharped tooth grin.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He said. He was tall, about a few years older than she was. His burgundy stringy hair fell down his head, making them look like dreadlocks. A dark over jacket covered his pale bare chest, cargo pants and boots fashioned the bottom half. He was known as Scathe around this part of Under Ragous… and he was very persistent of Velvet.

She ignored him and attempted to walk by. His group blocked her way, keeping her from moving any further, “Move douchebag.” She said.

“Ooohh I LOVE it when you talk like that.” Scathe remarked running his finger along her arm. “I love it when you dress like that too.” She wore her usual dark pink vest over her black tight shirt, mini skirt with combat boots…nothing much but enough to turn him on.

“Drop dead.” She shoved his hand away.

“Baby girl, when are you going to give me a chance?”

“When your dead sounds good.”

“God, I love them spicey.” Scathe attempted to wrap his hands around her waist. She shoved him away, kicking him in the groin.

“I said no!” Velvet backed away. She shoved her way and maneuvered herself from Scathe and his gang. Her hand went to her back pocket where she had a hidden shank; if she had to stab someone in the neck to make home to her brother alive, she’d do it.

“Take a hint, dick.” She scowled.

“Oh I can definitely give you some of that…”

Veneer paced up and down the kitchen frantically. She was now 10 minutes past her time. Where was she?

“Maybe the job took longer than expected.” Floyd had been trying to calm him down, but no luck.

Veneer kept biting his nails, glancing at the clock, “No, no, no. She’s never this late. Never.”

“I said no!”

Velvet? It was her voice. He knew his sister’s voice anywhere. Floyd’s ears also perked up.

“You heard that too?”

“I did.” Floyd responded. Veneer ran to the front door… he paused, he dug around a desk and pulled out a knife.

“Ven!” Floyd exclaimed.

“You never know.” With the Troll on his shoulder, Veneer walked outside…. Not far from where he stood, he saw his sister surrounded by five guys, one of them standing near her, a hungry look on his face.

“Hey!” He shouted.

Scathe glanced up to see Veneer headed their way, “Looks like the prick is going to ruin the fun. See you later baby girl.” He ran a finger along Velvets cheek. She spat in his face in return. The boys laughed before walking away. Veneer finally made it by his sisters side, the knife firmly grasped in his hand. Velvet didn’t turn away until the group of boys were out of sight.

“Vels?” She heard Veneer call her.

“Let’s go home.” Grabbing her brother by the arm, she turned him away and walked back.

“Are you okay?” Floyd asked from Veneers shoulder.

“I’ve handled those jerk faces before. Nothing new.” She replied as she headed up the steps leading to their small studio.

“Wait. Before? They’ve harassed you before?” Veneer shook her grasp away and stared wide eyed at his sister. “How come you’ve never told me this?”

“Because I know how worked up you get! It’s nothing Vennie, come on.” She reached out to pull him inside.

“No! You’re walking around with those idiots after you! How can I not be worried?” An anger crossed his voice. How could she keep something so important from him? How?

“I don’t want you doing anything stupid Ven! I know you.”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Guys!” Floyd intervened jumping from Veneers shoulder and onto the steps below. He looked up at the giant Rageons. “Stop! This is not a matter to be fighting for. Velvet, you really need to tell us about these things! We worry for you. If something EVER happened to you, we wouldn’t forgive ourselves. You understand!” Velvet only crossed her arms and turned away in response.

“Veneer, she’s right. You have the tendency of taking things in your own hands and doing something reckless. So don’t! We’re going to figure this out together. Got that?”

Veneer also crossed his arms. Both twins turned their heads in defeat away from Floyd…. He was right. Ever since his presence there, he had become the voice of reason between the two…. A father figure. They both let out a sigh of defeat.

“Yes dad.” The mumbled in unison.

Floyd sighed, “Good. Now let’s go eat.”

The next evening, it was Veneers turn to go to the Pit to look for a job for the days rations. Though he tried to understand what Floyd had told him the day before, he couldn’t get the thug and his gang out of his mind. The thoughts of how many times they harassed his sister remained. What if one day they took it far? What if one day the kidnapped her? Killed her? His mind whirled and whirled with thoughts.

“Ven. Ven!” He finally heard Velvet call out to him. He looked at his sister in the eyes. “You sure you’re good to go today? You seem… out of it.”

“I just… I just didn’t sleep well.” Veneer responded.

“Maybe I’ll just go…”

“No!” Veneer interrupted her. “I want to do this one.” He said. She fixed up the collar of his red vest and straightened his purple beanie.

“Be careful. If you’re not back…” She began.

“I know. I know. I’ll be back.” He held out his pinky. “Promises.”

“Promises.” She wrapped her pinky around his. Floyd smiled from the shelf by the door.

“Be careful.” He warned. Veneer smiled at both and was out the door.

The Pit was busier than normal. As jobs became less around then under city, more and more Under Rageons clustered for a chance to pick up an illegal job in desperation for rations. As always, Veneer was one of the youngest ones there. He glanced a the listings and listened in to the offers. Veneer heard of one that would lead him out into the Rageous Woods, he began to wonder if that one would be to dangerous when he heard a familiar conniving laugh. He turned his head to spot the jerk who was hitting up on his sister the other night. Veneers blood began to boil, they laughed as if nothing bothered them, as harassing a girl was just part of their normal routine. Before his mind could comprehend anything, Veneer was walking towards them.

One of boys in the group nudged their the leader, the dreadlocked Rageon, the one who touched his sister. He turned to eye Veneer as he walked closer.

“Well look here. The prick who blocked my advances the other night. He graces us with his presence boys.” Scathe chimed, earning a laughter from his crew. Veneer pouted his face, attempting to look more menacing. Everyone around him laughed…. His blood boiled again.

“Stay away from my sister.” He demanded. The boys around him gazed upon him with amusement.

“Excuse me?” Scathe said.

“Y-you heard me.” Veneer replied attempting to hide his stutter. Scathe flicked the cigarette he was smoking to the ground. He stood, walked slowly to Veneer… he was nearly a foot taller. He looked down at Veneer with his red spiraled eyes, a smirk coming across his face.

SMACK!

He hit Veneer square in the jaw. Scathe kneeled down, his knee on Veneers neck.

“Don’t you dare command me.” He spat. He stood up and kicked Veneer in the ribs. The small Rageon grunted in pain. “Who the hell do you think you are!” He kicked him again. One by one his gang joined in, kicking and hitting Veneer on the ground. He attempted to block the blows, lifting his arms, he shielded his face. Pain soared through his body… there was many people around them, but none came to help.

After what felt like eons, they stopped. Pain pulsated through Veneers body. He spat out blood from where they were able to kick him in the face. Scathe bent down and pulled Veneer by his hair to meet his eyes.

“Your sister is mine now. One day, I’ll sneak on over there. Give her the night of her life. She’ll scream my name… and you, well you’ll be there to watch the show. Watch me show your sister a good time, watch her moan in satisfaction. Mark my words douchebag.” He shoved Veneers face back to the ground. Scathe and his gang laughed as the retreated back into an alley. His words echoing in Veneers mind… He threatened his sister. She wasn’t safe walking around the streets so long he was around. He balled his fists, heat radiating through his body, his mind began to blank as anger and hatred for Scathe filled him to the core. With anger in his eyes, Veneer glanced towards the direction the other Rageons went. To his left….a crowbar.

Standing up he wrapped his fingers around the crowbar and pursued the gang. They didn’t make it far before they stopped to smoke again. Veneers foot prints echoed in the alley.

“Back for more? Want your sister to scream my name already…”

CLING!

Veneer swung the crowbar, hitting Scathe square in the head. The Rageon fell over motionless.

“GO. TO. HELL!” Veneer screamed as he bashed Scathes head. The gang around him jumped him, pulling him away from their leader… but Veneers anger surpassed them all. One by one he smacked them in the head with the crowbar.

“YOU WILL NEVER TOUCH HER!!” He cried as he beat each and everyone. He went back and beat Scathe more and more….again and again….Silence then fell around the alley. Veneer tried to steady his breathing as calmness overcame him. Finally, he looked down at the damage he did.

“Oh….my…. God….” He murmured as the lifeless bodies lay around him. The crowbar fell out of his hand with a clang. His clothes had blood smeared all over them… but it was not his own. His body began to tremble… he couldn’t be here… he need to go….so he ran home.

Velvet was sitting on the floor with Floyd, splitting and portioning the rations when Veneer barged through the door.

“Ven?” She turned around in surprise at his early arrival. “Why are you so- oh my god.” She gasped, covering her mouth seeing the blood on his clothes. She ran to her brother as he collapsed on the couch.

“Ven! What…. What happened? Who hurt you?” She demanded. His was lost in thought, his eyes glued to the floor.

“Veneer!” Floyd’s voice snapped him back to reality. Tears began stinging his eyes.

“Oh my gosh… oh my gosh, oh my gosh!…” He whispered.

“You’re not making any sense. What happened!” Velvet demanded as Veneer buried his face into his hands as he cried.

“They threatened you Velvet. They threatened you. I couldn’t let it happen.” He cried. A realization hit Floyd.

“No… Veneer please tell me you didn’t…”

Velvet looked between the Troll and her brother, confusion still plastered on her face. She knelt down in front of her brother, grabbing his face in both her hands she forced him to look at her.

“WHAT. HAPPENED!” She demanded.

“….. I have blood on my hands Vels…. I got so angry….i didn’t want them to hurt you…..I killed them….I killed them all.”

[queenburd]

happy 4/32 my friends. i wanted to get a bigger thing out, but it sadly isn't done, so instead, here is the first part to it. self contained and foreboding. 8)

formatting may be broken on tumblr. i will be crossposting this to ao3 shortly, with slightly tidier formatting optimistically.

if you like this fic, please check me out on ao3!

-

Stanley is frowning pensively at his computer, chin rested on folded hands. He has not exited his office yet, too lost in his own thoughts while his eyes flick across the black screen.

THE STANLEY PARABLE 12: Forgotten Pantry The Original Tax Disk It's Either Me or the Didgeridoo Baby Ice Hidden Paperwork Wacky Tuesday | Confirm |

As the sequel number suggests, this is not the first time Stanley has seen this screen. It is, however, the first time he has really sat and thought about what he is looking at. The first time he has tried to understand what it means.

Stanley takes a deep, shaking breath.

“Stanley? Is everything okay? You've been in there for rather a lot longer than I was expecting.”

He nearly jumps in his seat, head snapping to face the door. The Narrator is peeking at him from around the corner guilelessly, expression beginning to shift into concern at the reaction he receives. His eyes flick from Stanley's face to the screen, confusion visible in the quirk of his mouth.

“What's going on?”

The Narrator steps into the office to examine the monitor, and both of them watch, with growing anxiety, as the display disappears without warning.

A palpable tension fills the silence. In the reflection of his dark monitor, Stanley watches the Narrator's gaze move from it to him.

“S...Stanley, what the hell just happened?”

Stanley swallows.

It's not that he wants to keep this from the Narrator—he just doesn't know where to even begin.

-

The first time Stanley was given a prompt on his computer was the same run that the New Content door appeared in place of door 416. He had intended to ask the Narrator about the screen asking him to set the clock, but then—well. They'd both become a bit...occupied.

Since then, the command had appeared sporadically after a reset, without any pattern behind it. And—And Stanley had just assumed, for whatever reason, that it was another small addition the Narrator had created for the “sequel” content. Something to make Stanley feel like he was doing something new, to make him happy.

He doesn't think he's a foolish person, usually, but thinking back on when he first started getting prompts on his computer monitor—how he in the moment would set the time without really thinking about the action—Stanley feels like he should have paid closer attention to what he was doing. What the white font was saying.

Help. | Yes | | No |

Why had he not thought about this? Why had he just taken it at face value? Why had he never noticed the tone, the writing pattern? Why had he not questioned its comments?

He hadn't realized he'd been interacting with someone new until he'd found the monitor in a dark room under the sand-filled Memory Zone, and, well, considering Stanley's state of mind at the time--

--he doesn't want to be alone, in this wasteland. He knows in the end what he's going to choose, and he hates that he does--

--it's understandable that he'd had other priorities. It's completely reasonable that Stanley had not, in his emotional state, tried to learn more about the mysterious white font that spoke about the Narrator in the third person, and seemed to have as much power or more than the voice ever had.

He'd come back a wreck. The Narrator had worked to help him recover, distracting and comforting Stanley in turns, and that had been the end of it, hadn't it?

(Except Stanley had gone back to the Achievement Machine, and the Narrator had sounded terribly afraid. Stanley had thought about sand, and sand, and sand, and he had kept it to himself as to not make things all the worse.)

Look, all this is in the past. It's been ages, really, since the Epilogue, and since then he and the Narrator have found a good routine that works for them. Stanley plays the game, the Narrator berates him for his choices in a voice that's exceptionally exasperated and fond in turns, and life goes on. A good eighty percent of the time, the fellow does this in person, hand in his own and smile undisguised.

They are happy, mostly. Sometimes there are hurdles, sometimes there are meltdowns and arguments and hard conversations, but honestly, genuinely, Stanley is happy.

But then this screen pops up, after god knows how many runs, and Stanley finds that it concerns him.

“And suddenly, I'm thinking about the scope of this world again, and my place inside it. The realities versus the impressions. I start to think about all of my assumptions, all of the many things I used to take for granted, things you and I spent so long at each other's throats over!”

The Stanley Parable cannot end. It can only spiral in on itself, forever.

I must keep the wheel turning.

A wheel, ever turning. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Don't stop playing the game. Drag your counterpart back when he's finally pulled himself free, and watch him do the same to you.

He should have paid attention. He should have told the Narrator. He should have done something, right?

But what, exactly, can he do? What power does he have here? How does Stanley figure this one out?

-

Across from him, the Narrator stares into the middle distance, hand pressed over his chin and mouth while he thinks aloud.

“Okay, so I guess we have an answer to that Machine starting to work, so that's one mystery solved. Granted, it doesn't really answer the how, but I'm starting to think it's similar to the Museum issue, where certain files are just completely inaccessible to me for gameplay reasons. You don't suppose this has anything to do with her, do you?”

Stanley shakes his head. The voice in the Museum has never interacted with him outside of that space, and the tone of the prompts has never seemed much like her, anyway.

“No, I suppose that would be too easy. Too straightforward of an answer, and we can't have that,” the fellow says sardonically, sighing. He rubs his forehead. “This one's on me, I think, for finally thinking I understood the ins and outs of the Parable. It just keeps throwing surprises at us, and really, we should know better.”

Stanley shrugs, slumped in his chair and rolling over what feels a bit like shame in his stomach. He's just as liable, for not thinking anything of it; for getting kind of complacent. They're both prone to being a bit stupid.

“Your job is to press buttons, Stanley, you've never needed to work with a full toolkit.”

He makes a face at the somewhat-crooked smile directed at him, but the attempt at normalcy is appreciated.

“Well, I don't know what much else there really is to do about this. Whatever it is, it hasn't been malicious at all, so even if it is an actual entity and not just, er, another feature, then we have to assume it's... fine?”

So, what, just... continue on like none of this happened?

The Narrator sighs again, before he straightens from where he's been leaned on Stanley's desk. “I don't know what else we can do. Unless you have any bright ideas.”

...no, not at the moment. He'd probably think on it at least, but if the Narrator isn't going to worry about it, then it's likely out of Stanley's hands too. He stands and stretches, placing a hand on the fellow's shoulder.

He's sorry, again, that he didn't bring this up. But he's glad to see that the Narrator is, by all accounts, taking this pretty well?

“Stanley,” the fellow says, smiling tightly at him, “I am freaking out right now.”

Oh. Um. He kneads his fingers into the Narrator's shoulder in a weak attempt at comfort. A hand lifts and covers his own.

“I'm not upset with you, Stanley. I just wish I had answers for you.”

He nods, and leads the fellow out of his office by the shoulder. Come on. Let's go find a distraction. Door 430, maybe?

“Yes, that... That sounds nice. Thank you, Stanley.”

[bloody-bee-tea]

Not just a toy

Suguru flops down in a chair in Shoko’s working space without so much as greeting her.

“Wow, you sure are in a mood,” she drawls out and raises an eyebrow at him, clearly expecting him to explain himself.

“Satoru’s out on a solo mission,” Suguru says in answer and he refuses to acknowledge the pit of dread in his stomach.

Solo missions are happening more and more for the both of them lately, after Satoru managed to kill Toji and Suguru can’t say that he likes it much.

In all honesty, it’s making him worry and with every new assignment that sends them to different parts of the town or the country, the dread continues to grow stronger.

“So? You’re not worried about him, are you?” Shoko asks and the thought is ridiculous enough to make him scoff.

They both know that Satoru is stronger than anyone, especially after he unleashed his full potential after Toji nearly killed him.

“I’m not,” Suguru sighs out and Shoko levels him with a look.

“Either you tell me right now what has you in this mood or you take your sorry ass out of here, because this is where I work, you know. I’m not here to pity your pathetic self.”

“Ouch,” Suguru whispers but he knows that she’s right. He came here for a reason, even if he doesn’t quite yet want to admit it to himself and moping silently to himself is certainly not it.

“I’m just—worried,” Suguru finally admits and to Shoko’s credit, she immediately knows that this is no longer about Satoru. At least, not only.

“About what?” she asks with more patience than he thought she could muster and Suguru closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“That Satoru is going to forget all about me,” he quietly admits and the silence in the room is deafening.

“You might want to say that again, because that literally makes zero sense,” Shoko finally says and Suguru sighs again.

“It’s just—”

“You know that Gojo is obsessed with you, right?” Shoko interrupts him and Suguru presses his lips together.

He knows. And for now, it’s even true. But—

“For how long though?” he bitterly mutters and tips his head back when he can feel Shoko’s eyes burning into him. “One of these days the novelty of me is going to wear off and then what?”

“The novelty of you? Geto, you might as well speak in tongues, cause none of what you say makes a lick of sense,” Shoko tells him and Suguru wishes she would understand him like Satoru does, so he doesn’t have to explain every last one of his thoughts.

“Satoru likes me because I’m new, so to speak. He’s never met anyone who could keep up with him, however briefly. And with how he was brought up he’s also never met anyone who didn’t cower in front of him, so of course he’d take a liking to me,” he says, his voice barely audible in the otherwise quiet room. “But he’s pulling so far ahead of me and one day he’s going to realise that I’m just like everyone else. And then what? He’s going to lose his interest in me and these solo missions are only speeding that process along.”

Something hits him square in the forehead.

“Ouch, Shoko, what?” he gets out, rubbing the stinging spot and glaring at the pen she threw at him.

“I hate to say this but you’re almost smarter when you’re goofing off with Gojo. What the hell are you even talking about? That guy adores you. He’s so head over heels in love with you that none of your words make a lick of sense!”

“But for how long?” Suguru whispers out, because he’s so scared that it’ll happen sooner rather than later.

One of these days Satoru will wake up and realise that Suguru is a nobody, that he’s like everyone else, and then he’ll turn away from him. For now, Suguru might have his love, but he doubts it’s going to be true for much longer.

“You do know that the guy quite literally has your wedding planned out, right?” Shoko wants to know and now that makes Suguru’s head snap up in surprise.

“What?” he breathes out and Shoko rolls her eyes at him.

“Remember that very first mission you were sent on?” she asks as if Suguru could ever forget any mission he was sent on together with Satoru.

“Of course I do.”

It was a relatively low-level curse, just something to test them and their teamwork barely two days after introducing them to each other and at that point Suguru had thought it went quite horribly. They had clashed more with each other than the curse, yelling insults across the field instead of fighting but of course in the end it had all worked out, just like it always does with them.

“After that mission he barged right in here and said ‘Shoko, I’m going to marry that guy’. It was the first full sentence he ever said to me that wasn’t dripping with condescension.”

“He was just joking,” Suguru whispers and this time when Shoko throws something at him he dodges it easily.

“Like hell he was. He hasn’t stopped talking about it since. If you think that guy is going to let you go, ever, then you’re thoroughly mistaken. I don’t think even death could make him part from you so I really don’t know what you’re on about when you say you’re losing your shine. To him, you’re not a goddamn toy he’s going to get bored of.”

It’s nice to hear, Suguru has to admit that but he can’t quite believe it.

“Are you sure?” He hates that his voice is shaking the tiniest bit, but the thought that one day Satoru could wake up and realise that he played with Suguru as much as he could, that Suguru is old news now has been eating away at him for a while now.

“Do I look like Gojo to you?” Shoko demands to know and Suguru frowns.

“Huh?”

“You really should talk about this with him, you know,” Shoko gives back and Suguru hates that she’s right but it’s not as if it’s that easy.

“So he can tell me that we’re not going to last sooner?” Suguru scoffs out and has to dive out of his seat when a whole tray of medical equipment comes flying his way.

“So he can put that stupid, overthinking brain of yours to rest and maybe propose in the same breath. Geto, seriously. Does he really strike you as the kind of person who’s just going to discard those he cares about?”

Suguru opens his mouth to answer with a resounding yes, but he knows that it’s unfair. Satoru might have child-like excitement for the most random things—sweets especially—but if he cares for someone he’s ride or die for them, no matter what. He might try to pretend that he isn’t, might joke and wave it off, but in the end he’d kill for all of them.

And that holds especially true for Suguru.

“No,” Suguru admits and Shoko nods.

“Exactly. And since my words can only hold so much weight in a relationship I’m not even involved in, maybe go talk to him now.”

“Ah, but Shoko, you’re our honorary third, don’t you know that?” Suguru jokes and Shoko makes an exaggerated retching sound.

“Gross. I want nothing to do with either of you,” she immediately replies and shoos him out of her space. “Now get lost, I’m sick and tired of your face.”

“You love my face, or otherwise you would have kicked me out the second I stepped foot into this room,” Suguru confidently says and knows he’s right when Shoko only rolls her eyes and turns her back on him.

“If you breathe a word of this to Gojo, I’ll dismember you. See how long it’ll take him to piece you back together,” she threatens and Suguru knows better than to test her patience past a certain limit.

“Alright, alright,” he easily says. “Thanks, Shoko.”

“Whatever,” she grumbles but waves at him over her shoulder so he knows she’s not really mad.

But now that he’s done here, that only leaves him with one thing to do: waiting for Satoru to come back, so he can talk to him.

~*~*~

It doesn’t take Satoru long at all to wrap up his mission—barely two hours—but it feels like an eternity to Suguru. It’s certainly long enough for him to change his mind several times and when Satoru finally bursts into his room, a happy smile on his face, Suguru still doesn’t know what he’s going to do now.

“Suguru!” Satoru cries out, and almost flies across the room to crash into Suguru. “I have missed you,” he says, just like he always does when a solo mission forces them apart and without a conscious thought, Suguru speaks.

“Are you going to get tired of me?” his mouth blurts out and Suguru wonders if there’s a curse in his arsenal that could swallow him whole, just to escape those wide, confused eyes that are now trained on him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Satoru demands to know, pulling far enough away to better glare at Suguru and then he reaches out to take his temperature. “Are you sick? Did you hit your head? What’s going on?”

“Shoko said you have our wedding planned out?” Suguru blurts out next and that’s not much better.

Satoru narrows his eyes at him.

“I don’t see how one relates to the other, and don’t think I forgot your previous question, but yes, I have,” he easily admits and takes the opportunity to topple Suguru over on the bed so he can better snuggle up to his side. “It’s going to be a fall wedding.”

“Why? You love spring. If anything it should be when the cherry blossoms bloom.”

“Too hard to plan for and besides. You love autumn. So it’s going to happen then.”

Satoru has his head pillowed on Suguru’s chest and almost on autopilot Suguru’s hand moves to scratch at his scalp, even as his chest feels close to bursting.

“Is there no doubt in your mind that we’re going to marry?” he asks after a short moment and Satoru makes a happy noise in the back of his throat.

“None.”

“How can you be so sure?” Suguru whispers out and now this prompts Satoru to turn his head so he can look at Suguru again.

“Easy. Because I love you.”

It’s not the first time Satoru has said it but it still takes Suguru’s breath away.

“Is it really that easy?” he mutters and Satoru frowns at him.

“Suguru, what’s going on?” he wants to know and rearranges himself so he’s laying on top of Suguru, his pointy chin almost painfully digging into his sternum.

Still, Suguru doesn’t push him off, too caught up in that gaze on him.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Suguru admits and Satoru gives him a cheeky smile.

“Always dangerous. You’re prone to too many thoughts.”

“Have to make up for the lack of thoughts in you,” Suguru immediately gives back, falling back into the banter as easy as breathing and some of the tension leaks out of him.

When Satoru’s eyes sparkle, Suguru knows that this was his intention all along.

“And now tell me what’s going to make you wrinkle before your time,” Satoru says and Suguru sighs.

“I’m wondering if you’re going to lose interest in me, one of these days. I’m a novelty for you, don’t think I forgot you said that, and I’m like a shiny new toy, but eventually you’ll get bored by me.”

Satoru blinks at him. And then he blinks some more.

“Say what now?” he eventually manages and Suguru bites at his lower lip.

“Satoru—”

“You think I see you as some kind of—what? Toy? Some new distraction, something to have fun with until you break?”

It’s basically just what Suguru said moments before and still his heart squeezes painfully in his chest when he hears Satoru talk like that.

“Yeah,” he admits, his voice just a whisper of a sound and Satoru’s eyes blaze in anger.

“You’re a goddamn fucking idiot,” he hisses out, digging his chin even more painfully into Suguru’s chest.

“Ouch, Satoru, stop that!”

“It’s what you deserve! I cannot believe you just said that!”

“Well, is it true?” Suguru demands to know and Satoru’s cursed energy flares as if he’s about to hollow purple Suguru into next life.

“It’s fucking not, and you know it!” he yells out and Suguru’s ears ring. “It’s not like that at all, why would you even say that?”

“I just—I don’t know,” Suguru admits, because he lacks the words to explain what’s going on in his head. “Why do you love me?”

“Because you’re you,” Satoru immediately says and that clears up exactly nothing. “How do I even explain this?” Satoru mutters before Suguru can say anything else. “It’s like—you don’t ask someone why they breathe air, right? It’s just what you do, because you need it to survive and it’s an instinct and there’s nothing in this world that could substitute that and you’re also never going to grow bored of it, or stop doing it because that would mean death. It’s the same with you.”

“The same with me?”

“Loving you is just what I do. There’s no reason for it, at least not just one. I just do. The moment I saw you I knew and then after that first mission I definitely knew. And it’s not just because you’re strong, or because you don’t take my shit, or you’re nice to me without the sickening sucking up my clan used to do, or because you’re hot as hell. It’s all of that together and then some,” Satoru tries to explain and in all honesty, it makes Suguru’s head spin.

“You’re worried that you can’t keep up, right, you said that last week, but Suguru. It’s not just your strength, it’s all of it, together. It’s all of you. And even if you weren’t as strong as me, you’d still be one of the strongest out there, so why would that even matter?”

It’s Suguru’s time to blink at Satoru now because how can he so easily cut through all of Suguru’s thoughts and hone in on the one thing that bugs Suguru to no end?

“A fall wedding, huh?” he says, because acknowledging everything else Satoru just said feels like too much at the moment and this, at least, makes Satoru smile again.

“A fall wedding,” he nods and then his face softens as he reaches out to cup Suguru’s face in his hand. “No more stupid thoughts, okay? I love you. I love you. And nothing is going to change that.”

“You know, if you could channel this eloquence for your essays, Yaga would yell less at you,” Suguru chokes out, desperate to lighten the mood because he feels as if he’s going to burst into tears any moment now.

“Yeah, well, I don’t love Yaga, so he can suck it up,” Satoru carelessly gives back and Suguru chuckles, his eyes still suspiciously wet. “Okay now?” Satoru then asks him and Suguru nods.

“Okay now,” he agrees because he is. “I love you, too, you know,” he adds, because somehow it feels as if he doesn’t say it enough but Satoru only gives him his brightest grin.

“I know. I definitely know. It’s in everything you do,” he says as if he never doubted that for even a single moment and now Suguru almost feels bad for doubting Satoru.

“It is,” he still agrees, because some days it feels as if he’s made out of love for Satoru, as if that’s his sole purpose for being and now he finally understands what Satoru was trying to say.

It’s the same for him.

“I’m sorry I’m being stupid,” Suguru whispers out, turning his head so he can press a kiss to Satoru’s palm.

“Apology accepted,” Satoru easily says, smirking at Suguru. “But if you doubt me or my love for you again, I’m going to be upset, just so you know.”

“It won’t happen again,” Suguru promises, because how can it, now that he finally understands? “I promise.”

“Good, good,” Satoru says and finally takes his chin out of Suguru’s chest, turning his head and rubbing his cheek against Suguru’s pec as if he’s a cat. “Now, can you please welcome me back home? I did just come back from a gruelling mission after all.”

A mission that took him less than three hours to clear but Suguru smiles indulgently at him anyway.

“Welcome home, Satoru. You did well,” he says, just like he always does when Satoru comes home and Suguru isn’t being too busy being stupid and Satoru makes a sound that could almost be classified as a purr.

“Mh, better,” he decides and presses a kiss to Suguru’s chest. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Suguru replies and he knows, deep down to his bones, that it’s true.

And that this is never going to change.

[toniiswrld]

stepping off my perv!riize soapbox because fwb!Eunseok crept into my mind. fwb!Eunseok would be such a trip. he's super great in bed (duh) and is just such a sweetheart that people would expect you to fall for him. it wouldn't even be difficult to do. he's everything a girl could want in a man, yet you still never saw him in that way.

Eunseok on the other hand... (anyone that has been around you two for longer than 2 seconds: so, you're in love with her, right? Eunseok: nuh uh!! same person: fuck you mean nuh uh!?) he's literally obsessed with you. he's always texting you. always buying you random presents. you know how there are a million and one couple holidays in Korea?? he's not so subtly celebrating everyone with you. like,,,, the couple allegations get crazy, but EUNSEOK'S the one embarrassed about it when it's his fault in the first place.

you never wanted to cross the line bc you knew going into this that it was just sex and occasionally hanging out. the more often you two hung out, the more you started to fall for him. you started to push away, but he kept being so sweet, kept seeking you out, kept buying you gifts, kept taking you out for fancy dinners, kept loving you.

the whole situationship thing reached a peak one night after another lovely "not a date" date with Eunseok. the second the two of you entered his apartment, he had you pushed against his door, his mouth crashing into yours. before you know it, he's hitting it from the back in a half-assed doggy because you can barely hold yourself up, it feels so good. the closer you get to cumming, the more wobbly your arms get. that is until you give up and flop onto your belly. Eunseok fully pushes himself on top of you, his chest to your back. all you can hear is his breathing, groans, and babbling in your ear. he just kept repeating "you're so good for me" "you feel so good" "needed you so bad". you started to zone out, focusing on how good you felt, until you heard the words "i love you so fucking much" pass his lips. you both froze. he pulled out and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. you turned over and the first thing you saw was how red his ears were. you go to touch his shoulder and he turns around with red eyes and starts rambling about how sorry he is and how he crossed a line. you kiss him to shut up before whispering a soft "i love you too" back.

okay,,, this ended up wayyyyyy more fluffyish and longer than i intended. anyways, here's kinda pathetic!fwb!Eunseok! coming next: maybe perv!Sunchan? maybe perv!Anton? maybe something else entirely??? I DON'T EVEN KNOW!! 😱😱

-🎀

eunseok losing the idgaf war deep in pussy is crazy but real af… like he’s so in denial about his true feelings in fear of you not feeling the same so he doesn’t even realize how the fwb turned into a situationship until he’s wayyyy too deep to turn back, and his nonchalant act coming to bite him in the ass the minute he gets a slight realization that he’s so close to having you but could lose you so fast of he didn’t act now. he’s planning on taking you out and then confessing but he gets so distracted by your beauty and then once he’s inside you those three words just leave him without him realizing and you’re both like 🫣🫢🤨

but this whole time you were waiting for eunseok to finally just claim you as his instead of playing with your emotions like he’s been doing these last months, like who takes their fwb to a 5 star restaurant and gives her a hello kitty money bouquet… eunseok lock tf in please

also the dick? is fire…. you aren’t going anywhere when eunseok fucks you completely stupid every time even when he’s slow, forcing you to look at him while he makes you cum basically a soul tie atp and he doesn’t want you fucking other people, even if you two weren’t together and he’s not fucking anyone else either. tells you his cock is the perfect fit for your pussy and anyone else would be a waste of time <3

after his pussy drunk confession you two talk it out and finally make it official and he finishes what he started and goes back to giving you the best dick of your life as your boyfriend 🙂‍↕️

kinda looking forward to perv sungchan but ill take all your ideas no matter what they make me lightheaded in the best way possible 🎀 anon

[wulvercazz]

A Wet Welcome🧼

Previous 💕Here's part 3 :>ccc

cw // some light groping but it's mostly Grimm being touchy and having shitty af social skills lmao

Ichigo doesn't expect Grimmjow to approach him so soon after. Sure... he's hung around their home far longer than welcomed, enough to learn their name and daily routine. But what he expected was perhaps another angry look, or maybe some sort of warning spell sent his way. "Behave, and you can stay." Is what they say instead. He's startled out of his nap, and followed in by the witch in what he's learned is their 'working look'; tied hair and tied clothes. Except, instead of re-potting, or dusting or anything else, there's a warm tub of water filled to the brim with herbs. His feathers fluff up in alert. Before he can think worse of it, and decline Grimmjow's invitation of a warm place to stay and fresh food... he's being dragged to the tub and getting his shirt picked at. "W-wait- wait- n-no need for that-" he laughs nervously, pulling at where his shirt's come undone. The witche's raised brow and cold, silent, look making him sweat under the pressure; no good excuses come to him. "You get in the tub or get out,"... there's no room for negotiations. Still, in his fumbling, Ichigo somehow manages to fall in clothes and all, the wet fabric sticking to his skin uncomfortably before Grimmjow's magick has them slipping off him and out... somewhere... perhaps right through a window and out the house entirely. There's far more touching than he's felt in... his life, maybe. Nothing exactly gentle, but Grimmjow's hands scratch his scalp and scrub at the caked dirt with a few muttered insults under their breath. Soapy liquids and scents being poured one after the other into the water aided by magick, their hands never stopping their hard work. Ichigo could've tried to enjoy it more, he thinks, if only Grimmjow didn't look so offended with all the dirt coming out of him... If only Grimmjow's hands didn't find themseleves so eager to get ever single nook and cranny off his skin rid of such dirt. His back tingling all the way to his failing tail feathers and splooshing away at the muck-and-soap water the farther Grimm's hands go down his body. He slips deeper into the water, fleeing the too-friendly fingers already messing with the lumbar feathers and stirring heat all across. "Ough-!" Ichigo swallows back an embarrassing noise when Grimmjow's hands take a fistful of his hair to try and pull him back upright. "I'll turn you into something more useful if you keep moving!" "Hhg- I- I can get that myself!" He manages to bark out finally, Ichigo's cheeks burning up and the water bubbling up to a boil that has Grimmjow's hands finally jumping out the water. "Fine." Grimmjow jumps up from the stool suddenly, face pinking slowly before they agressively dry their hands on the apron and walk off towards the kitchen with just as much decisiveness. Ichigo does look forward to a bit more privacy, as nice as the scalp scrubbing and the attention may have been, slumping into the mucky water with a shakey breath. Even his overexcited feathers calming just enough for a clean damp rag to hit his face and startle him all over; Grimmjow's last word in on the discussion.