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misszennya · 2 days
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Gambling With Souls (Alastor x GN!Reader)
Summary: You made a deal with Husk a long time ago, and ended up paying a lot more than you bargained for. Now you worked in one of his casinos, waiting on him and the people he gambled with hand and foot. One day Husk is challenged to a game by another Overlord, one with red eyes and a sharp ever-present smile…and, despite everything, you can’t help but feel drawn to him. What happens when the two of them start gambling with souls…and yours is thrown into the betting pool? Disclaimer: Husk is going to act pretty different than he does in the show and, yes, he's not going to be very nice to you---this is not me demonizing him. He's an Overlord, he's gonna act like one.
Tags: Alastor x GN!Reader, No Use of (Y/N), I only know Texas Hold ‘Em so that’s what we’re going with, One-sided Husk x GN!Reader (maybe, idk, it's up to your interpretation) TW: Abuse, Alcohol, Groping Word Count: 3.3k Read it on Ao3 <3
The moment you'd agreed to gamble with Husk, your life had ended.
You were a strong demon, not an Overlord---considering you hadn't owned any souls---but still not someone to mess with. Still, it was an incredibly stupid idea to gamble with an Overlord like him, especially since he was known for his proficiency in such things. You didn't remember what exactly had possessed you to think you could possibly win, but it didn't really matter now, did it?
He'd challenged you, and you had accepted.
You lost.
And now your soul was his to do with as he pleased.
Of all the demons who owned souls, Husk was considered by far the worst. He was a gambler and a drunk. He won hands, yes, but he also lost them---and it wasn't exactly uncommon for him to bet the souls he owned in lieu of money. Especially against other Overlords.
You could be working for him in one of his casinos as a dealer and in the span of one hand you were suddenly being dragged to the Vee district and forced to work as a porn star for Valentino, subject to his abuse and the abuse of your "co-stars," only to see your pain broadcasted across Hell to get people off.
Or to the Carmine district to work in a factory, building weapons that would probably kill you one day and dealing with the effects of the toxic gas and physical labor, slowly decaying over time.
Or to the district owned by Zestial...no one knew what happened to the souls he owned, and you sure as hell didn't want to find out.
Oddly enough, though, Husk seemed to take a liking to you. He always had you work at his personal gambling table---serving drinks, food, or rigging the game in his favor when he was in particularly deep shit and didn't want to lose.
And he never bet your soul.
Ever.
Sometimes he would bet you doing certain...activities, sometimes he would bet your time, sometimes he would bet a kiss, but never your soul.
Sometimes you were grateful for it, for the security it brought and the routine---you were rarely ever caught off guard when it came to Husk. Grateful for the knowledge that, hey, at least you would never be traded off to someone worse.
Other times, however, you hated it. Hated that he treated you like his prized show pony, hated that he was willing to pass you around but never loosen the chain on your neck, hated the fact that there was no escape...
...at least, there was no escape, until Husk gambled with him.
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It was never a good thing when Husk called you over to his table, so when one of the girls you worked with waved you down and directed you over to him---right before the end of your shift, I might add---you were...less than thrilled, let's say.
It had already been a hard enough day. It was like every jackass in Hell had decided to all get assigned to your tables at once---being loud and unruly, smacking your ass, spilling drinks, causing trouble---and, of course, none of your coworkers were any help. Your feet were killing you from all of the moving around, a customer had spilled a drink on you so now your uniform was more uncomfortable than usual, and you could definitely feel a migraine coming on.
The last thing you wanted to do was stay however many hours past your scheduled time just to plaster on a fake smile and be Husk's plaything. All you wanted was to go home and go to sleep, but the universe apparently hated you.
Fuck your life.
As you approached Husk's table, your attention was immediately drawn to the man sitting across from him. He was noticeably taller than Husk, even without the antlers atop his head---joined by a pair of red and black ears that matched the rest of his hair. He was dressed in a red suit and tailcoat that seemed to be 1930's in style, and a staff in the shape of a vintage microphone rested right next to him.
What was most eye-catching about him, though, was his smile.
Husk was an irritating man, that's just what he was like. He was arrogant without the sense to hide it, too certain of his own success every time he played a game, a hefty shit talker, usually drunk, and irritable and rude when he wasn't. Half of your job was often playing nice to soothe his opponents, trying to keep him out of trouble. Like I said, he was an irritating man.
And yet, even though it was obvious that Husk was getting on this man's last nerve, his smile never faltered. It was...unsettling, to say the least. Oddly enough, though, you found your interest in the man piquing---he didn't look like the type to gamble, after all, so what was he doing here?
As soon as you made it to the table, you plastered on a smile of your own and greeted them, mentally preparing yourself so that you didn't try to throttle one or both of them.
"Hello gentleman," you said, voice falsely bright and cheerful, "will I be dealing for you today or grabbing some drinks?"
Husk turned to you, grinning cockily and...oddly not drunk. Not sober, of course, but clearly more sober than you'd ever seen him before.
"Dealin' for us today, sweetheart," he said, smooth and low---almost flirty. You mentally shuddered.
Despite your distaste, you nodded and made your way to the middle of the table, going ahead and opening a fresh deck of cards before shuffling them---waiting for Husk to tell you which game they were going to play, and therefore what you'd be dealing out.
He turned to his opponent, "now, what game 're we playin'?"
"Your choice," the man replied, his voice overlaid by sharp radio static.
Husk laughed, and part of you wondered if this stranger had a death wish. Didn't he know who Husk was? Didn't he know what a terrible idea it was to give him, not only the advantage of playing in one of his casinos and choosing the dealer, but also the advantage of choosing the game?
What was he playing at?
Never one to pass up an opportunity to gain the upper hand, Husk---grinning---told you the game he wanted to play, and you began dealing out the cards. Quickly, the stranger recognized it.
"Ah, Texas Hold Em', hm?" He hummed, static crackling slightly in an almost-laugh, "a classic! What made you choose such a game?"
"I just figured a basic game like this would be easy enough for you to keep up with," Husk replied, the little insult sliding smoothly off his tongue. The stranger's eyes narrowed and you cringed, mentally praying to whatever god would listen that he wouldn't take his anger at Husk out on you, as was all too common among the characters he gambled with. Thankfully, his eyes never left Husk and he made no move to harm you as you set up the game, now divvying up the chips between them.
Just before you were about to start the game, however, Husk held up a hand to stop you---a dangerous glint in his eyes that made you shudder.
"Why don't we make this game a little more interesting," he said, and you could already guess what he was about to suggest.
The stranger's head tilted ever-so slightly, "what did you have in mind?"
"Why don't we gamble with something a little more valuable than money...something like the souls we own."
The stranger's smile widened imperceptibly, and you got the uncanny feeling that this is what he'd wanted in the first place. Not Husk's money, but the souls in his possession.
'Perhaps Husk's soul as well,' something in your mind whispered, but you brushed it off. Husk never gambled his soul either, so there's no way that would happen---even if that was what the stranger was there for.
Once the stranger voiced his agreement, Husk snapped his fingers and his chips radiated with a silver glow, each chip being branded with a mark that symbolized exactly whose soul was being bet. His soul was branded on a Black chip, the most expensive piece---ever present, even if he'd never bet it. Yours was a Red, the second most expensive.
He gestured to the stranger, signaling that it was his turn. The stranger followed suit and snapped his fingers, this time a bright green enveloping the chips in front of him---starkly contrasting to the rest of his appearance. His chips were now branded with their own marks as well. A Black chip with green details was branded with a bright red 'A,' and you could only assume that was his own soul.
After it was clear that the two were ready, you flipped the first three cards, and the game began.
----------
At first, things almost seemed normal, once the game had started.
You dealt the hands, split the chips in the betting pool, and watched as the two Overlords went back and forth with the flow of the game. Occasionally another one of Husk’s employees would come over and serve them drinks, but other than that none of it caught your attention.
Well, one thing caught your attention.
The stranger’s shadow.
It seemed to dance around with a mind of its own, never losing its smile, just like the stranger himself. The shadow sometimes messed with the chips on the stranger’s side of the board, sometimes it played with the ice in the empty glasses on the table, but most of the time it seemed almost…fascinated by you.
It messed with your hair, helped you shuffle and collect the cards, tugged playfully at the edges of your uniform, and simply stuck by your side most of the time. It was a nice change from the attention you were used to dealing with from customers, or from Husk himself.
The way people would scream at you when they were angry, the wandering hands that would grope or hit or grab, the catcalls and lustful threats, the glasses of alcohol that people would throw at you…this was nothing like any of that. You liked it, it made you feel…precious, in a way. Valued. Cared for, oddly enough.
The stranger seemed amused by the antics, occasionally raising an eyebrow at his shadow only to receive an innocent shrug in response.
Husk, on the other hand, was not so amused.
“Get control of your fuckin’ shadow,” Husk snapped at the stranger as it tugged gently on a piece of your hair, drawing a small smile from you. One that immediately disappeared as you heard Husk’s voice.
“Now now,” the stranger chastised, seeming even more amused at Husk’s irritation, “it’s only having a little fun, no need to lose your temper.”
Husk muttered something under his breath, no doubt some string of insults, but still, he dropped the subject. You tried not to pay any more attention to the shadow after that, not wanting Husk to get angry at you as well.
Husk didn’t seem to notice…but the stranger did.
“Husker, you have quite the specimen working for you here," he said, radio static curling around his voice in an almost...flirtatious(?) purr as he turned to look at you, "what's your name, my dear?"
You flushed slightly before giving him your name, asking his in return. After all, you'd prefer to stop thinking of him as "the stranger."
He repeated your name slowly, sounding out each syllable, before responding, "Alastor, it's a pleasure to meet-"
"Your turn," Husk interrupted, voice grating, and the stranger- Alastor's gaze snapped to him, lip curling even as his smile stretched.
"Of course," he replied, irritation clear in his tone, "pets have such short attention spans, wouldn't want you getting distracted from our game, now would we?"
"The only one getting distracted here is you."
Alastor only hummed in response, raising the bet as he did so.
You glanced between the two, the tension between them palpable, and you were more than a little worried that a fight might break out---but, thankfully, neither made a move towards the other. They just sat there, glaring.
You cleared your throat, trying to dispel some of the animosity, "raise or call?"
Husk pushed a stack of chips forward, "raise."
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This is how the game went, back and forth.
Husk winning some hands, and Alastor winning some in return---almost like a dance, a game.
You watched, enthralled, as the two continued on...and as Husk slowly, surely, lost more and more souls. Usually, when it was clear that one of the players were going to lose, they would call the game off---cut their losses and stop before things got any worse.
But, for whatever reason, Husk refused to do just that. In fact, the more hands Husk lost, the more determined he seemed to keep playing---to the point where, if you didn't know him well, you'd think he was gambling under the influence. It was...surprising, to say the least, and by the time Husk seemed to realize how deep of a hole he'd dug himself into, it was too late. His only choice was to keep playing and hope his luck turned around.
He had no reason to be worried, though, and he knew that.
All because he had you.
You see, there was a reason why Husk always had you serving his table. It was because of your power, what you could do for him during these games.
It was hard to pinpoint exactly what your power was, since it manifested differently depending on what you used it to do, but---in simple terms---it was almost like you had control over reality. A small part of it, at least. You could control things...well, under your control. Your appearance, the clothes you wore, anything you made, or---in this case---any game you dealt for.
There weren't any rules against the dealer controlling the game. Husk made certain of it. There was even a clause in the fine print of every contract people signed to play with him, one that gave you full permission to do as you pleased during the game, as long as you were the dealer.
So, sooner or later, Husk would give you the signal to turn things in his favor and you would do as you were told.
...
Well, apparently, it was sooner.
Husk gave you the signal, and you sunk into the familiar warmth of your power---subtly seizing control of the game. You knew the cards in Husk's hands and in Alastor's, as well as all the cards on the board.
Alastor would have two pair, Husk would have one.
Your fingers twitched slightly and the unflipped cards changed, giving Husk three of a kind and Alastor one pair.
Husk won that round.
Safe to say, Husk started to get "spontaneously" lucky, and get some of his souls---his power---back. Alastor, surprisingly, didn't seem at all bothered or shocked by this. If anything, he seemed completely relaxed, as if he wasn't losing hundreds of souls with every hand. It unsettled you, and it definitely seemed to unsettle Husk---even though he tried his best to hide it.
Eventually, though, just as you thought that---surely---Alastor had had enough and was about to call the game off, he said something that stopped you in your tracks.
"All in."
Your power faltered for a moment as you stared at him, eyes wide, and you lost all knowledge of what was on the board. Husk was staring too, mouth hanging open, before a surprised laugh slipped from his mouth.
"You're kiddin', there's no way you-"
Once again, Alastor simply said, "all in."
Sliding his soul chip forward. Smile ever-present.
You glanced at Husk, silently wondering what he was going to do. Even with you controlling the game, he'd still never gambled his soul. Whether that was because he didn't trust that you'd let him win or because he didn't want to take the risk of your power failing, you didn't know, but still...he never bet it.
You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his answer, and, after a moment, Husk shook his head in disbelief...before calling Alastor's bet. A first for him, and for you. You took a deep breath and took control of the game again, ready to change the cards, before Alastor---once again---stopped you in your tracks.
"Is this what you want?" He asked, and you froze.
"...what?"
"Is this what you want?" He repeated, sounding genuinely curious, "to spend the rest of your afterlife working here, for this man? Letting him bet your body, your choices, letting him control your free will?"
You blinked. Surprised.
No one had ever asked you what you wanted before.
"I don't..." you trailed off, unsure of exactly what to say to that. Unsure of how to answer the question.
Husk glared at him, the topic of conversation clearly hitting a nerve, "why don't you shut the fuck up and mind your own business you-"
"You don't have to, my dear," Alastor continued, cutting Husk off, "you do have a choice, you know. You could choose to help me, instead of him, or to let fate take its hold."
It hit you then that Alastor knew that Husk was cheating, that he knew you were helping him. And still, he played the game...still, he treated you with kindness and respect.
He was right, though, you did have a choice. The contract of the game specified that you could do whatever you wanted with your control of the game, so long as you were the dealer and not one of the players.
If you wanted, you could make Husk lose.
You could force him into the same position that he'd forced you into.
You could break free from his grip.
Husk growled your name and your gaze snapped toward him. It was a warning, a threat. He owned your soul, he could do whatever he pleased with it, so you better listen to him.
Alastor said your name softly, drawing your attention back to him. A careful reminder. You still had a choice in this, Husk couldn't make you do anything right now. You could always choose not to help him, to help Alastor instead. All for the chance at a better life.
You took a deep breath and closed your eyes...
...
...before letting go of all control of the game.
Whatever happened now, it was up to the cards. Not you.
Husk slammed his hands down on the table, making you jump back as piles of chips tumbled to the floor, but before you could get farther away, he lunged at you and grabbed your throat---seething with rage.
"YOU FUCKIN' BITCH, HOW DARE YOU-"
Before he could finish his sentence, or cause you any harm, a green chain suddenly formed around his neck and pulled him back---making him fall to the ground. Your gaze snapped up, only to find Alastor at the other end of the chain---his shadow laughing behind him, grin wide. From there you glanced at the table, only to find-
Alastor had a Royal Flush...
...and Husk had nothing.
You glanced back at Husk and then, again, at Alastor---the reality of everything slowly setting in. Your soul no longer belonged to Husk, even if you were still tied to another Overlord. Now, though, Husk had fallen from his ivory tower.
Now he was just like you.
You couldn't help the hysterical laughter that bubbled up from your chest, a weight you hadn't even known was there suddenly disappearing. It was over. It was all over.
"I guess the house always wins," you managed to get out through your laughter, unable to contain the bright smile that took over your face. You were free of him. You were free of him.
"Indeed, my dear," Alastor replied, chuckling at your little joke, "I can already tell, you and I are going to get along just fine."
You would never admit it, but you thought so too.
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misszennya · 24 days
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from @yuzuocha (didn't even make it their main acc bc they an idiot)
crack hcs on an LI dating another LI's sister, GO
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Aight pookie i gotchu (also thanks for helping me out lmao)
🌱So here how the LADS would react, knowing that their little sister is with an idiot! (It's them... in another font *sigh* 🤦🏽‍♀️)🌱
Characters: You(reader), Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel.
Tags: Crack (lmao who guessed), they're your big brothers, they are also hypocrites, Rafayel kinda sus 🤨, but Xavier doesn't back down either but he just end being even more sus and idk how to feel about that 💀, Zayne is disappointed... again, bullet fic cuz I love it.
Sumary: How does the boys react when you show up at home with one of the boys as your boyfriend. DUMB SHIT UNDER THE CUT.
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Rafayel:
Ight girl listen I'll start with Zayne cuz it will be shorter trust me 💀
When you show up with that hunk of a man at your door my man was SHOCKED
Like girl???
After so many red flags you finally stopped going after those medium-ugly incels with mommy issues that play League of legends? 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹
Rafayel is not really a believer but he feel on his knees thanking God for finally putting some common sense in you.
Your therapist is probably sneezing at that.
After you kick his head to get up and stop embarrassing you in front of Zayne you guys join to have lunch with your parents.
Now low-key tho
Your mom bullies him saying that even YOU got a decent boyfriend now and not Rafayel 💀 (you say "hey!" at that but you shut ur mouth at the sight of her chancla 🤡)
Your mom trusts him so quickly (I mean ofc cuz he's a doctor and you're pretty sure she would exchange you and Rafayel for HALF a Zayne and a cup-noodles 💀) that he always leave with her TUPPERWARE I REPEAT TUPPERWARE MY GUYS YOUR MOTHER WON'T EVEN ALLOW YOU CLOSE TO THOSE EVEN AFTER SHE DIES BUT SHE GIVES TO HIM LIKE 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣
He low-key jealous now but happy for you.
Now if it's Xavier uh...
He's weary???
Cuz listen, don't kill me, but if xavier shows up at your doorstep wearing a hoodie and with a sleepy face
Rafayel will just sigh and think "The father issues are getting worse man.. Please God if you there make him play just Valorant but not league, I don't want to kill someone for hurting my dumb sister (again)."
But after talking to him for a bit he notice that he's quite the nice guy
Kinda weird that he has a mind of a boomer but okay.....???
At the end of lunch with Xavier your mom already loves him, that bitch is the favorite child and he just arrived today like 💀💀💀💀
Xavier departs full of plastic pots (SOMETHING THAT REALLY PROVES THAT SHE TRUSTS HIM) full of sweets and food for a week.
Rafayel is chill with Xavier, low-key mad that now your mom only wants to feed HIM meanwhile whenever he says he's hungry your mom just says "Perish." 💀
Xavier
Okay with Rafa first cuz 😭
The moment Rafayel shows at your door step the first thing he says is
"Sister you have been followed by a pimp..." 💀
And he's already hugging you and saying that you're not the type of woman to do that you're his little sister but the moment you say that this hobo f-boy from the deepweb is your boyfriend he freezes and hold your shoulders.
Xavier: Sister... Have you been forced to this? Is this a bet? Do you need help? *he says in a supposed whisper but it's obvious that Rafayel can hear cuz he's right behind you 💀*
You: Xavy nooo he's my boyfriend and I love him ☺️
You never seen your brother look so devastated
He sits on the couch holding his head muttering that he failed as a big brother because his sister is now dating some sort of fboy from those doramas (that he's been obsessed with lately)
Meanwhile Rafayel on the doorstep yet: "Yall know I'm still here right? 😀
Xavier: *muttering* unfortunately...
Rafayel: 😀 ..😐..🫥
But surprisingly not that Xavier will EVER admit.
The guy is nice??
I mean he's definitely a slut but like a cool to hang out with slut to be honest.
Turns out they get along so well that it looks like Rafayel likes to spend more time with Xavier than you 😭😭😭😭😭 (he just like that he can drag your brother around, you're just mad cuz you're the one supposed to do that >:c)
And bro... the are so homies like 🤨🤨🤨 yanno?
One day after they both play video games while you watch them both ( wich was fun actually it's like they game and comment lol)
Rafayel just hit Xavier with like:
Rafayel: Ey ehe *fboy laugh bite lip* if you win that race for me on Mario kart imma give you a kiss on ya hot mouth man.
Xavier: no homo?
Rafayel: definitely not my dude 😔👌🏽
Xavier: ight bet.
He won.
In like
1th place...
My guys... the silence in the room as the victory screen shows up WAS SO LOUD LIKE 😭😭😭
And you ofc
You: Damn I'm living my Bl dreams lmao
Rafayel: PRINCESS I'M YOUR BOYFRIEND??
Xavier: And?
...
After that attempt of a joke from Xavier, everyone went to their respective places and never talked about that 💀
Now let's not forget Zayne.
Poor guy he becomes your personal babysitter 💀
Like literally one day after he comes from work to spend time with your family
You and Xavier just lay your head on each of his thighs.
Like, wasn't he supposed to be the one resting now? 🤡
But as if you're both cute cats Zayne doesn't move.
Actually he learns that your hair is really fluffy and soft... hm... must run in the family?
He receives a call but he doesn't move.
He's stuck.
Happily stuck.
At least you two don't run from him when he tries to pet your hair 😭
Zayne
Honey listen
The moment that this thing right here👇🏽
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Showed at your door step
He just said "No." And closed the door on his face after pulling you inside.
After a quite heated discussion behind the door (that Rafayel definitely heard someone calling him a man-whore 💀) and a lot of *sighs* from Zayne he opens the door again, maybe he wasn't too bad if you chose him right?
Rafayel: Hey Big brother heh can I call you that right-
Zayne: No. *slams the door again*
Honey... Zayne is so disappointed 😭😭😭😭
You're his dear sister but like why did you get an idiot like that? 😭😭😭😭
Rafayel keeps trying to win Zayne over and low-key you cringe but hey, you love him alright?
Your mom doesn't really give a shit she's too busy destroying some villages at clash of clans.
Zayne is the older son and my man is tired 😭
But I mean.... whatever makes you happy... sister...
Sometimes Zayne wishes he could just:
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Now about Xavier...
Hmm he's cautious as he would be, he's your older brother AND YOUR MOTHER WON'T GET OFF THAT DAMN PHONE.
Anyways
He's definitely worried when Xavier asks to go to your room.
No... they wouldn't do anything weird right?
I mean... it's always the quiet ones, right? He knows that well *ahem*
But... you wouldn't... right?
After being tormented he makes some snacks as an excuse to barge in your room purposely walking quietly so you wouldn't hear him coming.
But when he opens the door he feels ashamed for thinking something like that.
He finds you curled on Xavier's lap, looking more calm than ever, you fell asleep after a full tummy of delicious lunch.
He doesn't remember seeing you like this since you were children, and he used to hold you just like that when you had nightmares about dad.
He watches as Xavier caress your back and kiss the crown of your head.
He feels his heart melting in his chest seeing this, he feels at ease knowing you're safe with someone like him.
He ignores the pain he feels knowing that you don't need him to hold you like this anymore, you're all grown now and you don't need your big brother to protect you from nightmares anymore.
He leaves the snacks on your table, and he and Xavier lock gazes, they both give each other the "Nod".
He passed. He's worthy of his little baby sister.
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Author notes: lmao yall my bad I did Rafayel so dirty but I can't resist bullying him every time 😭😭😭
Also dayum wth why did I do this to myself with zayne 💀💀💀💀 this is what happens when you write about him while listening "When she loved me" from toy's story 🤡 BRB I'm gonna cry 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️
THANKS FOR THE ASK THO @yuzuocha LOVE YOU POOKIE 💖💖💖💖
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misszennya · 1 month
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source
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misszennya · 1 month
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My new headcanon is that Karens become Susans in Hell.
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misszennya · 1 month
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Look man, it was too perfect not to do, I was obligated to make this-
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Anyways another drawing for my little series of dumb doodles, gotta keep the fandom well fed💪💪
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misszennya · 1 month
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sillliesss
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misszennya · 2 months
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Shrike pt 1
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[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” I did my best for an ace x ace relationship, based on personal experience. Both parties are moderately sex favorable since writing from my own experience is easiest, so I’m not sure if this counts as QPR. Written mostly in spite over all the Alastor smut. And overly innocent reader inserts. I don’t mind some smut but c’mon people.]
[Part 1/2 Word count 5506/12026]
[cw: blood, violence, mild gore, attempted sexual assault, fluff]
Behind every great man is a great woman? Well, behind every sophisticated murderer is an equally charming murderess. Maybe not as accurate a statement but that’s how you and your partner were. You met Alastor during prohibition. You weren’t the headline performer at the speakeasy he liked to frequent. You were attractive but other girls there were more stunning.
What caught his attention was the passion in your voice. You were deep and sultry as New Orlean’s summer nights. Your notes slipped into his core as inevitable as the Big Easy’s flow. Combined with your poise and aura of untouchability, he felt drawn to you. The lean radio host had never felt a pull like this to anyone.
But he noticed other men drawn to you. But they had no appreciation for you, just your flesh and the pleasure they might take from you. So he took to following you home. At a discreet distance; he hadn’t yet introduced himself. At least a dozen times he intercepted ruffians that moved to harm you. They weren’t nearly as cautious and thorough as him.
One night Alastor had just prevented another uncouth man from approaching you and was wiping off his hands when he heard your voice. Not how he normally did, trained and melodic. No this was harsh, panicked. Fuck! Another one?! There really was no end to the lowlifes.
You had screeched at your assailant, “Get your hands OFF ME!” You were shrill enough to make him wince, but only for a second. He was stronger and just gave you a dark grin with more teeth missing than not. “Let’s have some fun babycakes.” He started dragging you to an alley.
You managed to stomp on his foot with your heel. “Augh, you bitch!” He shoved you up against the brick wall. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he growled.
“I believe the lady has made her opinion clear,” came another voice in the foggy night. “Let her go.” The voice was vaguely familiar, something you heard regularly…
It distracted your assailant long enough that you could reach for your hat. It was a tad out of style but had it’s advantages. Namely, needing a nearly foot long hat pin to keep it in place. You pulled the pin out while he looked out at the other man.
“Fuck off before I kill yo-“ his words were cut off by the sharpened steel pin suddenly piercing his eye. You jammed it into his eye socket with all your strength. Maybe you could have hit what little brains he had but the other man ran up to slit the bastard’s throat.
The man gurgled desperately before falling to the ground. He twitched, blood flowing from his neck and eye. You leaned back against the wall, chest heaving.
The tall lean man seemed oddly calm. He cleaned his knife before pulling your hat pin out of the corpse’s head. Blood fountained out from the eye socket as he cleaned the gore off your pin. He turned, presenting you the slim steel by the decorative knob.
“Are you all right cher?” You took the pin back but didn’t replace it. You didn’t want any leftover gore in your hair.
“Alors pas! Give me a moment cher.” You took a few deep breaths and looked up to see a (thankfully dry) red tinged hand waiting for you. You placed your shaking one into it. The owner assisted you to your feet, guiding you away from the ever growing pool of blood.
“Quite a fright you’ve had my dear!” His crisp voice, with its transatlantic accent echoed as he escorted you away.
You shuddered slightly, realizing how bad things could have gotten. “At least it was just a fright. Thanks to you mister…?” You trailed off, still trying to place his voice.
“Alastor.”
Your eyes widened in sudden recognition. “Ah! You’re the radio host!”
“I’m flattered you remember me! I’m afraid I have you at a disadvantage. You are Y/N, correct?” Dazed, you nodded. “I’ve been enthralled by your performances for months now, I had to learn more about you cher.”
“Why thank you, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying them.” Suddenly you felt dizzy and stumbled along the path. Alastor swiftly caught you.
“I believe you’re a tad unsteady after being handled so roughly. May I?” Confused, you nodded and he immediately swept you into a bridal carry. “If you’ll permit me, I’d like to escort you home.” He paused and added, “I will need directions of course.”
The thought of a man you just met bringing you home made you flush all over. No matter how gallant he was, the radio host was a stranger. But you didn’t think your legs could support you long enough. “If…if you would please.” You glanced back at the alley. “What do we do about…”
“Hmmm,” Alastor hummed as he strolled away. He had no difficulty carrying you. “I suppose a dead man is an inconvenience but I believe getting you somewhere safe takes priority. Certainly over a lowlife’s corpse.”
It was hard to argue with that logic. You directed him to your apartment, amazed that he was able to carry you that long and with ease. Once there, you allowed him inside. Once inside with a lamp lit, you realized what a mess both were. Your coat was splattered with blood and grime. Your dress was stained wherever the coat hadn’t covered it and your hat was long gone. The hat pin in your hand was mostly clean, but you spotted some blood and gore by the finial. Your shoes weren’t worth mentioning.
Seeing the result of your ordeal made the bile rise in your throat. You barely made it to the sink before vomiting. Thankfully you hadn’t eaten before leaving work so it was just bile. You faintly heard clinking and water being poured. Alastor appeared with a glass of water for you. “Ma cher, you look like you need a wash up. If you like, I can stay in the main room or I can make my way home. I wouldn’t want you to feel unsafe.”
You found yourself asking him to stay as you cleaned up. Maybe you were being naive but he did just save you and you felt he didn’t have anything untoward in mind. When you asked about him, he merely chuckled and told you not to worry.
After you were cleaned and dressed in a nightgown and housecoat (and had added a torrent of tears to the bathwater) you emerged to find Alastor reading the newspaper in a chair. He’d made jambalaya for you both. “My mother’s recipe! So good it nearly killed her!” he quipped. Once you’d eaten you couldn’t keep your exhaustion at bay.
“You’re welcome to spend the night Alastor. I’d hate to send you home in the middle of the night.” The only problem was there was only one bed, yours.
“That is much appreciated Y/N. I can make myself comfortable in the front room for one night. I’ll leave you to rest while I clean up myself.” He pressed his lips to your knuckles and murmured “Bonne nuit, cher.”
Alastor left your sleeping form and made use of your washroom. He cleaned up methodically; it wasn’t the first time he’d had to wash up after a kill. His jacket was ruined, but at least the rest of his clothes were in decent enough shape. At least he wouldn’t scandalize anyone on the way home tomorrow.
Still, he was surprised that you had fought back as much as you had. Evidently that passion from your songs emerged elsewhere too. And the way you dispatched your attacker… he shivered at the beauty of it. The unexpected metal gleam in your hand, the furiously graceful arc as you swung and your perfect aim into the lowlife’s eye.
Alastor wasn’t much interested in pleasures of the flesh, he never had been and wasn’t still. He wanted to see more of you like that. Not scared and in need of rescue, but the hunter he recognized in your eyes.
“It seemed the songbird I’ve admired has talons.”
—————
The next morning you insisted on making breakfast; biscuits and gravy. Alastor seemed to enjoy it but he didn’t leave after eating. You thought he would need to get home before heading to the radio station. When you asked he said he was staying “just in case.”
Just before lunch there was a knock at your door. Alastor was closer so he answered it, almost like he was expecting it. Two policemen stood on the other side. “What can we help you with officers?” Alastor asked jovially.
“Is this the home of a Miss Y/N?” At your affirmative nod, the stockier of the two continued, “We’d like you to come down to the station Miss. We have some questions to ask you.”
“Ah, this must pertain to the dreadful ordeal my dear Y/N went through last night,” Alastor interjected. “Ma cher, why don’t you grab your things and I’ll accompany you.”
“And who might you be?” The lanky officer asked.
“Alastor, my good man. You may have tuned into my radio show!” He smiled thinly as the short one had a flicker of recognition. “I rendered some assistance to Y/N, so it’s probably best if I’m there as well. It would save you gentlemen a trip to my home to escort me in for questions, ha ha!”
By then you had your shoes and bag ready. “Dear you look lovely. Do you have your pin from last night, I’m sure these gentlemen will want to examine it.”
“Oh, that’s an excellent point Alastor.” You placed it in your bag, making sure the cover was on the tip.
Once at the station, you found out the trail from your attacker’s body to your apartment was fairly obvious. Some blood on the bottom of Alastor’s shoes led the way. As for what happened:
“The man accosted me on my way home. I tried to fight back, but he was ever so much stronger. It seems I was loud enough to grab Alastor’s attention. I’m so grateful he stepped in! The beast was distracted and I was able to get ahold of my hat pin. My mother always said not to leave without one and she was right! I meant to just scratch him but I’ve never had to do such a thing before; I hit his eye instead. Before I could do anything else Alastor was between us and then the ruffian was dead.”
“Indeed! I heard Y/N order the lout to release her and I ran up to assist. I had just been dealing with another lowlife who had also been following her. To think there are so many ne’er-do-wells on our streets! In any case, I dispatched the man and assisted Y/N home.” You hadn’t realized there had been another man following you. You shivered at the thought.
“And why were you in the area Mr. Alastor? Records show that neither your home or place of employment are in that area.”
Alastor’s eye twitched but his smile never faltered. “I’d had a lovely evening at the jazz club and felt a late night stroll was in order. I wasn’t even paying attention to where my feet were taking me! Perhaps it was providence guiding my way so I might save the lady’s virtue.”
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?”
“I could barely manage to walk, I was in such a state. Alastor had to carry me home; I was in no condition to report anything, officers.”
“The lady had been assaulted on her way home and forced to defend herself. I felt it would be unworthy of a gentleman to leave her alone in her time of need.”
After a barrage of questions and a thorough examination of your hatpin, Alastor’s knife and the minor injuries you had suffered while being manhandled, the officers let you both go. They would provide all the evidence to the district attorney. But it seemed unlikely that either of you would be charged. You had been defending yourself and Alastor had defended you.
The charming radio host escorted you back home. “Won’t you be late for work at this point?” His broadcast covered a good portion of the afternoon and early evening.
“Hmm, perhaps.” He patted your hand nestled into the crook of his arm. “I still feel your wellbeing is more important however, my dear.” You felt a blush warming your cheeks. “On that subject, I believe you’re due to perform again tonight?” You nodded, he really did enjoy your performances if he knew your schedule. “I believe I will go mad with worry cher, might I escort you there and back home?”
This man was insinuating himself into your life so easily. Perhaps killing a man together had that effect. “Please do Alastor. I don’t believe I will be able to go on my own after yesterday.” You had reached your apartment while talking. “Then I shall return after I complete my broadcast. Until tonight cher.” He kissed your knuckles and saw you through the door before leaving. You turned on your radio and tuned the dial to Alastor’s station. About ten minutes after his broadcast normally began you heard the crackle of his voice.
“Salutations listeners! Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen, I know everyone has been eagerly awaiting the show. I am Alastor, a pleasure to be sharing this time with you all.” You sighed in relief. You would have felt terrible if helping you jeopardized Alastor’s job.
You left the radio on, letting his voice fill the apartment while you took care of minor tasks. Eventually he signed off with his normal outro “Until next time dear listeners, thank you and goodnight!” You didn’t know how long it would take for him to get from his station to your apartment but you felt it best to finish getting ready.
So you were dressed for the evening when he arrived. That was the start of a new routine for you both. Alastor walked you to work and back, enjoying the illicit beverages and your voice. Sometimes he would stay the night in your front room but he mostly dropped you off before making his way home.
He was a lovely conversationalist and those walks were much more cheerful than they had been. You felt easy around him in a way that was foreign but fulfilling. Eventually your friends and coworkers at the speakeasy asked if you two were courting.
You honestly couldn’t answer. You’d never had a beau before. According to friends over the years, you had been asked out by a lot of fellows and turned them all down. Was that why none of those men talked to you again? Apparently you hadn’t realized their intentions.
One night, a couple months after the attack, you mentioned this to Alastor. “Isn’t that strange, cher? They think we’re a couple!”
He stopped dead, his lips barely keeping their ever present smile as the rest of his features went blank. “Is…is this what courtship is?” He blinked down at the hand in the crook of his arm, the high heeled feet he had shortened his stride to keep in step with, the new gleaming hat pin he’d gifted you.
“I…am not really sure. I’ve never had a beau before.” You looked up at him, seeing the lips that gently kissed your knuckles every time you parted, the dark auburn hair you would stroke when he was stressed, the patterned bow tie you had given him the same day he gave you the pin. “Although, if this is what courting is, I’m glad it’s with you Alastor.”
“Hmm…” he resumed walking, this time humming one of the songs you sang that night. Once at your place, he finally replied. “I believe I agree with you my dear. Since we are a couple it seems, I’m glad it’s with you, Y/N.” He not only gave your hand a kiss, but leaned down to kiss your cheek as well. “I suppose you can tell your friends tomorrow they were correct. Bonne nuit, ma cher.”
Roughly a month later, Alastor was spending the night in your apartment when you felt the need to ask a question that had been lingering in the back of your mind. “Alastor, cher,” you sat next to him, pulling his attention from the book he was reading. “Had…have you killed other people before that night?”
He froze, which really was all the answer you needed. “Are you still?”
For a man so glib, it took him a moment to find his silver tongue. “And if I am?” He choked out. “What will you do, Y/N?”
You studied him, making sure not to move and not to touch him. “I would ask what sort of people they are. And if they are of the same mold as the men who attacked me…then I’d also ask you to be careful, cher.”
He relaxed slightly. “Unfortunately there are a great many like-minded men in the world, although a few less in this city in the past few years.” He paused. “I can’t help myself dear. I see them acting as they do and feel the need to remove them from this life.”
Gently, you placed a hand over his. “I can hardly blame you for that. Especially after you saved me.” Your other hand turned his head to look into your eyes. “Your secret is safe with me, Alastor.”
The man was usually so composed; it was kind of cute to see him so surprised. He then cupped your cheek and lightly kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss.
It was one kiss and it didn’t last long. Pulling back from each other, he licked his lips while you pressed your fingertips to yours. “That was quite nice.” Despite singing so many songs about love, you had never been eager to try out all the steps of romance.
“Indeed it was. Shall we add that to our list of favorable courting actions?” You smiled and pulled out a paper, a fourth of the way filled with a list. You added “kisses on lips” to it.
Before too long, you were helping him with his activities. Initially you assisted in the clean up, but then you started taking part in the kills. Alastor admired your channeled fury and impeccable aim. You admired his precision and calculated execution. The two of you had to be sparing with your activities however. You didn’t want to draw suspicion. The kills were never closer than a week from each other.
Roughly a year after you met Alastor, the subject of marriage came up. It was while you two were disposing of another uncouth man; he made the mistake of trying to get you away from your beau and received knife stabs from both of you. You no longer had to rely solely on your hat pin; you had a stiletto blade of similar size now. Alastor finished covering the body in dirt; he refused to let you help with digging at all. Instead you kept an eye out as he did.
You provided him with a cloth to clean off the dirt. “Merci, ma cher.” Once he was ready you put it back into your bag and linked arms with him. As you walked together, satisfied, he asked, “Y/N, shall we get married?”
The question caught you off guard and you stumbled forward. Just like that first night, he caught you smoothly and lifted you into his arms. “ Alastor, darling, where is this coming from?”
“Some at the radio station inquired as to our relationship. I was informed that a successful courtship as ours generally results in a marriage.” He hummed as he carried you. “After some thought, I realized the prospect of wedding you is…very appealing.”
You nestled into his embrace. “I haven’t given it any thought. It would make life simpler, you wouldn’t have to dash around between our homes and work.” You mulled it over. You would like seeing him every morning instead of on occasion. The thought of your dresses next to his suits in the wardrobe, helping each other clean up after a kill, relaxing quietly on the couch while you both read… “Yes. Let’s get married Alastor. I’d like that.”
He smiled down at you, looking oddly tender considering what the two of you had been doing just half an hour ago. He leaned down to kiss you softly. “Let’s get you home and we’ll work out all the details tomorrow, my dear.”
Initially the two of you planned something simple. But once both your and his coworkers got wind of the nuptials, they insisted on a grand party. Apparently they all felt the two of you were adorably hopeless. Neither of you had realized how invested those around you were in your relationship. You and Alastor concluded that resisting your friends well-wishes was as pointless as resisting a hurricane.
So while the ceremony was a small affair, the party after was held at your club and lasted deep into the night. The proprietors had managed to get a bottle of champagne for you and Alastor. Despite it being your wedding reception, you couldn’t help performing one of Alastor’s favorite songs. He then kept you on the dance floor the majority of the evening. He danced as well as he talked. It was a good thing you’d had over a year as his primary dance partner.
You heard some ribald jokes about his stamina. At least that’s what they sounded like. You still couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered much to either of you. All you cared about was your husband was having a great time, out dancing everyone in the building. Once it was time to leave, he carried you into a cab, then carried you into his home.
Despite what the guests had suggested, he was tired after all that. Frankly you were too. So once divested of all the fancy clothing, he tucked you into the bed and climbed in next to you.
For the first time since you met him, he looked nervous in the faint starlight. Of course. This was so far beyond both of your experiences. You probably looked the same. “Alastor? May I?” You held out your arms to him. He gave you a nod and you embraced him, slowly nestling your body against his. “Let me know if it’s too much, cher,” you murmured as he wrapped his arms around you.
He started to relax with you. His breathing matched yours, your heartbeat synchronized with his. You felt his arms growing heavy, their grip softening. Alastor nuzzled your hair and kissed the crown of your head. “Thank you for marrying me, Y/N.”
You smiled. “Thank you as well Alastor,” you replied before drifting off to sleep.
The two of you did have sex eventually. The first time was a few weeks after the wedding. You were both back to work after a brief honeymoon; when you got back the other singers, the band, even the bartender were all curious about your bedroom activities. They surrounded you while Alastor was conversing with another patron. When all you talked about was how nice falling asleep with him was and the cute sight of him sleeping as the sun rose, they stared at you slack jawed.
Your coworkers consulted amongst themselves. You heard snippets of “do we need to explain this too, did no one tell them about that, they’re both such lookers too, I don’t wanna tell her, you do it, no you, I ain’t gonna tell her.”
After some discussion it seems Mimzy, another singer was appointed to talk to you. “Y/N, sweetie, doll, did your mama ever tell you about the birds and the bees?” She guided you to the bar and requested drinks for you both.
“Mimzy! I do know about sex. Gracious, I’m aware of adult urges and where babies come from.” You threw back your drink. The curvy blonde breathed a sigh of relief; at least she didn’t need to go over the basics.
“That is usually what a honeymoon is for dearie.” Mimzy tossed back her own drink. “Look cutie, what you and your mister do at home is your business, but your friends don’t want you missing out! You two are good together; I’ve never seen either of ya this happy before.” She downed another drink before hopping over to the stage.
Alastor came up to your side. “Looks like your friends are all in a tizzy dear.” You smiled up at him. “Did you have a strange conversation with your colleagues today too?”
“Ah yes,” he leaned on his new cane, a wedding gift. “Concerning my bedroom prowess and your presumed enjoyment thereof.” You couldn’t help but laugh huskily. “The station manager even told me to ‘remember my duties as a husband.’”
You gave him a peck on the cheek. “I believe you’re going above and beyond your duties cher.” He kissed your hand and held it while the two of you listened to Mimzy’s set. “I’d best get up there darling.” You gave his hand a squeeze before going to take the stage.
You sang a mix of familiar tunes and a couple new ones you’d picked up on the honeymoon. To finish the performance, you sang the same number from your wedding night, which you had come to think of as Alastor’s song. Many of the patrons were familiar with the two of you, so listening to you sing to your husband made a number of them go misty eyed.
Once back at home, Alastor cleared his throat while unbuttoning his shirt. “Do you want to, cher?”
You continued to remove your jewelry. “Perhaps one day.” You applied cold cream to remove your makeup. “And you cher? Do you want to?” You asked back as you wiped your face clean.
He was putting up his suit, more intent on making sure it lined up on the hanger than usual. “Perhaps one day,” he echoed. He stopped fiddling with the suit and stood there in his underclothes. Alastor’s ever present smile was still there but his eyes looked lost.
You finished your nightly routine and went to him, asking gently before taking both his hands in yours. “Ma cher, when have we ever been a normal couple? We already have almost a full page of physical affections we enjoy. If we want to see if sex will be on that list one day we can. But not unless we both want to try it.” His smile became more genuine and he pressed both of your hands to his lips. “Thank you my dear.”
You gave him a playful look and started humming the opening bars to his song. Alastor gave you a quizzical look back as you started singing it. Before the first verse was over you pulled him into an impromptu dance. In the privacy of your bedroom, you and your husband danced into the night to your voice. To your delight, he joined you in duets and sang a solo for you as you slow danced together.
“Ah, my sweet songbird. I am glad I married you.”
“I’ve never really seen myself as a songbird before. If anything…” your eye caught sight of your hat pins on your vanity, “more of a shrike.” He looked at you in surprise. “A butcher-bird,” you clarified.
“No no, I’m aware. I never thought of that comparison for you. It fits though, they’re pretty little killers that impale their victims.”
“I’m glad you agree darling. Now, we should get some rest.” You put out the light and pulled him into bed. There was a bit of hesitation on his part as he laid down. But he was soon settling into what was becoming your normal sleeping positions: you nestled against his side with his arms around you.
A few days after that, he asked if you’d like to give sex a try that night. You didn’t have any problems with the idea so almost a month after your wedding the two of you tried it.
Of course you were both terribly awkward; Alastor pulled your hair more than once and you elbowed him in the neck. But the two of you managed it. Multiple times that night in fact. Evidently that was what those stamina comments were about. Afterward, as he held you close Alastor mused. “Hmmm, that was rather enjoyable. I still don’t understand everyone’s fascination but I’m not opposed to the occasional romp as they say. What did you think darling?”
You thought back. “Once we figured things out it was fun. I agree though, I don’t understand why everyone is so obsessed about it. It’s rather messy in the end. And I think we can add it to our list, as an occasional activity.”
He chuckled. “You can add it tomorrow.”
The next day, you joined the other singers chatting before the sets started. One of them was gushing over her new beau and you realized this was a great opportunity to let them know. “Alastor and I had sex last night,” you stated, cheerful and straightforward. Again with the slack jawed looks. “Multiple times actually. I’m glad I’m in such good shape, it was more exertion than I expected.”
After a beat one of the girls asked “Well? How was it?”
“Hm? Oh! It was fun. My legs are pretty tired so I don’t think I’ll be dancing much tonight though. Alastor enjoyed it too, so we decided to do it again someday.” You heard the band warming up. “I’m up first tonight, best get up there.”
As you left the group they started talking rapidly to each other. “Do you think they actually did? Don’t see why not, they are the strangest couple I’ve ever met, at least they’re strange together, I thought for sure one of them would be more excited about doing it…”
Your lives settled into a comfortable routine together. You both continued with your jobs; his broadcast was quite popular and as you increased your skill and song repertoire, you became more successful in the nightlife scene. He accompanied you everywhere which was exactly how you liked it. Every so often the two of you would kill a ne’er-do-well or three. Occasionally you had intercourse. You often danced together, both at the club and at home.
This continued for a number of years. By now almost everyone around you was used to the idiosyncrasies in your marriage and just didn’t question it.
One night in late summer the pair of you were in the woods, hiding the latest kill. As you kept watch in the humid air, Alastor was dumping dirt over the corpse. “Are you sure you don’t need help cher?”
He grunted while lifting more dirt. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made my darling wife fill a hole like this?” You could only shake your head in amusement. You shifted your feet but lost your footing in the process. Both legs swept out beneath you and you landed firmly on your rear. You did your best not to cry out in case your voice carried.
“Cher!” Alastor dropped the shovel to help you up. “Are you alright Y/N?” You nodded as you grabbed his outstretched hand. “Just slipped, I’ll be fine Alastor.”
You looked up at your husband and noticed that the branches of the nearby trees gave him the illusion of antlers. You were about to mention it when the sharp crack of a rifle rang out and suddenly his forehead blossomed into a spray of blood and brain matter. “ALASTOR!” His name ripped from your throat. He couldn’t hear it though; his smile was wiped away as his body dropped to the ground.
“Aw shit! I thought he was a deer!” The man who killed your husband yelled out, realizing what he’d done. You screeched and ran in the direction of the voice, pulling your hat pin out as you did so. The hunter wasn’t far. You leapt at him, screaming and crying. He was bigger than you but he wasn’t expecting a furious murderess to launch herself at him at full speed. He fell to the ground with you straddling his chest and you plunged the hat pin, the one Alastor gave you for your last anniversary, into the man’s eyes and throat. Over and over you shoved the steel into his face. The blood spray and viscera didn’t scare you anymore.
You faintly heard, “Jesus Mary and Joseph crazy bitch!” through your own screaming. You whirled in that direction to see the second hunter aiming his own rifle at you. You started to move toward him when you felt an intense pain at your brow, followed by nothingness.
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misszennya · 2 months
Text
iv. dolly
see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago
˚୨୧₊♱
"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.
With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"
"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"
Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"
A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.
"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"
Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.
"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."
"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"
Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"
"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.
As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"
Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"
Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."
˚୨୧₊♱
The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.
Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.
Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.
Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.
"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."
"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."
"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"
Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."
A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"
“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"
With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.
Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."
"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"
"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.
"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.
"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."
"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.
Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.
As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.
"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"
With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"
As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.
On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.
Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.
Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.
"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.
The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.
In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.
"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."
"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.
It was a look he knew all too well.
"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"
Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.
Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.
The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.
"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."
"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.
"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."
"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"
Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."
Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.
The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.
"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.
"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"
"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.
"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"
Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"
"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."
"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"
Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."
Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"
"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."
Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"
The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.
"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.
"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."
"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.
"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.
Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.
˚୨୧₊♱
You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.
You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.
"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."
Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.
A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.
You missed your husband.
With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.
"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸
A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.
Alastor.
Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.
With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.
"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.
Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.
"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."
Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.
From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.
Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.
The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.
You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.
In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.
Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.
The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."
A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"
"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"
"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."
Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.
To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract
"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"
"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"
As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.
"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.
"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.
"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.
"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.
"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."
"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.
"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."
A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."
Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.
"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.
"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.
Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.
“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”
"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."
“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”
Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.
"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"
Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.
A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "
Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.
"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"
"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."
Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.
The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.
The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.
Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.
"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.
"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."
˚୨୧₊♱
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misszennya · 2 months
Text
i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.
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summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.
tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired
notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps
꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ‧₊˚ଓ꒰ ♡
It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.
It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.
So why was it so quiet?
The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.
What if they couldn't afford a third one?
You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.
"You never left?"
The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."
Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"
Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"
Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."
"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."
"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.
"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"
──────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────
Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.
The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.
"Welcome, how may I help..."
Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.
"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.
"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."
There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"
The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."
Fuck.
You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."
Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.
But you couldn't. You never could.
You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"
His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"
"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."
You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.
As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.
Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.
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"Toru! Toru!"
"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"
A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."
The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.
Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?
"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.
The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.
Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.
When had it gone so wrong?
Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.
"She was working at the cafe."
"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"
"Yeah."
"It tastes kind of like-"
"I know."
The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?
"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."
"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."
"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."
"Will she ever forgive us?"
The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.
"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."
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misszennya · 2 months
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misszennya · 2 months
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Life’s Creation and Love’s Manifestation (Dr ratio x reader)- Chapter 4: Late Appraisal
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Summary: Your promotion as one of the heads of the Security Department at Herta’s Station was full of many headaches, one of the biggest being a visiting scholar from the Intelligentsia Guild, and delegate of the IPC, Dr. Ratio.
When you were forced to team up with him to solve several crises emerging at the Station, how will your tense relationship change? And what exactly is the Doctor hiding?
Taglist: @96jnie @boomie-123 @a2tral @ukiyo-ikigai @poemzcheng @kpopmenace143 @tseleven @rains-mae @comet-kun @thatanimewriter @lowlucifer @snailsposts @earthtooz @delightfuldragoncollection @soobinsgirlfriend @lvfel
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A/N: You can probably tell I’m pretty tired by the writing + shorter chapter, but I wanted to get something out. The original draft was longer but I wasn’t happy with the later half, so I thought I would just for with a smaller chapter this time and keep working at the later half for a better finished produce. This mainly serves as a transitional chapter anyway, with more action expected in the next one.
You know that stereotype where fanfic authors literally go through the craziest shit when they’re writing? Well the last few weeks I won my first trial as a law student, got a few good resolution for other clients all at once, ans started getting closer with my crush. So… I’ve been pretty busy as you can see lol. I have a term break in a few weeks, which is likely when the next chapter will come out, and where I will try to pre-write another chapter or two. Thank you all for being patient with the delay!
Chapter 4: Late Appraisal (3.8k+ words)
“I just don’t understand how this even happened!” you watched the short white-haired man pace around Herta’s office, his forehead crinkled in concentration and mouth twisted into a worried frown. You felt your head pulse with each of his footsteps, thumping in beat with the heavy taps of his feet on the tile floor, the ache getting worse with each motion he made. Aeons, you wish they never found you napping in the Seclusion Zone. At least then you could’ve dealt with your hangover in peace and quiet, “How could multiple researchers and a Herta puppet all go missing in one afternoon? Especially with our upgraded security! It just makes no sense.”
“If you let me go look at the security system, I could tell you,” you deadpanned, eyes trailing over to the office door briefly, as if contemplating some way to escape, before flickering back to your boss, “I don’t even get why you called me here, aren’t we wasting time with this meeting when we could be trying to fix things?”
“Wasting time?” Arlan rebutted, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes narrowed as he looked at you, giving you little hope of making your escape from the office, “You know what’s a waste of time? Trying to track you down just to find out you were passed out drunk in the Seclusion Zone! Do you know how much time we wasted just trying to find you?”
“It was literally my day off, Arlan,” you huffed in reply, mirroring his stance by crossing your own arms over your chest, “I don’t have to tell you where I am all the time. Not anymore at least.” You let the implication of the words hang in the air, something that didn’t go over well with your usually mellow boss, who seemed to be getting angrier by the minute. But hey, if he was gonna push your buttons, you weren’t just gonna sit there and take it. 
“We’re in an emergency, Y/N!” he practically shouted at you, “It doesn’t matter if it's your day off! What would’ve you done if it was your day off when the Legion attacked? Stayed in your room and brushed it off?” You felt your body stiffen at his words, arms moving from their crossed state to hang loosely at your sides. You hated this; when you argued, when he used his knowledge of you and what would set you off for his own advantage. It was almost downright cruel. 
“Don’t talk about the Legion attack,” your reply was quick, emotionless as if you were trying to avoid thinking of it yourself, “You know that’s different. A lot different.” At this point, you were willing to run out of the Herta’s Office, meeting be damned. The ache in your head paused for a moment replaced by a dull pain in your chest, mind swirling with thoughts you’d rather forget. You were almost afraid of how you appeared to your boss right now. 
You watched Arlan’s eyes for the shift in emotion, hoping, praying that he was able to see where you were coming from. You saw it for a moment, like a flicker of hope burning within his purple orbs, before he blinked, sending the sympathy away from wherever it came from, “Is it though? For all we know, all of those researchers are dead! Adler could be dead!” You clenched your fist at the mention of the boy, the pounding in your head seeming to grow again. 
“I get it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air in frustration, “Which is why I wanna look at the security system to see how this happened! But instead were here arguing about stupid shit that doesn’t matter right now!” You watched as he began to pace around Herta’s office again, Herta’s holographic image of herself staring at the both of you, along with the other genius society portraits, as if they all were looking down on this conversation too. You couldn’t blame them. 
“You know why were having this conversation,” Arlan was quieter now, but still stern, “We needed you, and you there was no way to contact you!” He let out a shaky sigh before talking again, “We even started to think you were taken too!” You took a deep breath, attempting to let the anger inside of you simmer down at the genuine tone of his voice. 
“I already know that,” you sighed, “ Screwllum told me it all when he came to wake me up,” you raised an eyebrow, “You should’ve asked him sooner, I mean,” you tugged on your button-down shirt, holding back a wince at how the sudden action made your head pound harder, “You already know our relationship. If anyone knew where I was, it would be him” You released the shirt, begrudgingly moving a hand to hold your head now, unable to pretend that you didn’t feel like shit any longer. Arlan looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read; disgust? Pity? You’d honestly rather not know. 
“How much did you drink yesterday?” Arlan asked you, pausing his pacing again to change the subject, his expression still holding anger, but voice quiet, as if he was preparing to hear bad news. You thought about putting up a fuss for a moment, but sighed, preparing yourself to relent on this point, as if the alcohol was holding you back from hiding the extent of your poor state. 
“A bottle of wine,” you said simply, crossing your arms across your chest again. You almost looked stupid, standing in the office in your sweatpants and Screwllum’s shirt, confessing your problems, while Arlan stared back at you in proper uniform, leaving the power imbalance between you two evident visually and audibly,  “And a bit of Vodka,” you left the part about the vodka being in your water bottle unspoken, not prepared to deal his rant on that topic that the two of you had gone through hundreds of times before, though the pitying look on his face told you that he already knew.
“You really have to stop this,” Arlan said, voice losing the anger now, holding nothing but pity. Honestly, you preferred him angry. When Arlan became sentimental and looked at you like you were a lost cause or some sort of fuck up, for some reason nothing in the world felt worse. You didn’t know what it was; the way his lips curved into a frown like no other he ever displayed, or how his big eyes became downturned, a flicker of pain etched onto them and the rest of his features, “You can’t keep doing this to yourself…”
“I don’t want to talk about this,” you stared into his pitying eyes, hand from your head moving back to your side as you forced both your features and stance into neutrality as if that would fight off the emotions that threatened to spill from you.
“You don’t have a choice,” he said firmly, though not unkindly, “You know what I think about your drinking… what Asta thinks,” he let that name hang in the air for a moment, sending a shiver down your spine that made you wince, an action that didn’t go unnoticed by your boss. Arlan sighed, the sternness from before fading away into his usual kind demeanour, “You know I can’t control what you do; you’re an adult. But when your drinking gets in the way of your job; when you pass out somewhere where we can’t find you when we need you, thats when it becomes an issue.”
“Arlan,” you spoke his name, whether in warning for him to stop, or in frustration at the change in track of conversation, you couldn’t say.
“You know the Station is vulnerable after the attack… you know it better than anyone,” he said softly, “So we need you to be at 100% all the time… I know I already extended your hours after the whole incident from a few days ago,” you gritted your teeth at the previous punishment you had received due to your actions on the night that the stupid alcaster face bastard arrived, “but I don’t think that’s enough for what we need from you right now.”
“What are you suggesting?” you huffed, tapping a finger against your thigh impatiently. It clearly wasn’t the first time you received punishment and definitely wouldn’t be the last. At least that was something familiar in your life, you mused - at least something in your life could follow a steady routine. 
“... You can’t drink any alcohol for the rest of the month,” he said firmly, quickly speaking again when he saw you open your mouth in protest, “Okay, maybe not the month… but at least until we get the researchers back and solve the confidence issues… I need you sober right now, Y/N.”
“You know its not that easy to just… stop,” you muttered, eyes moving to look at your feet. Even now, early in the morning, probably a bit over 12 hours from your last drink, you felt jittery, like you needed something to quell your nerves. Without the alcohol, and even with the pounding head, things were too… vivid, real. It was overwhelming to experience the sensations in the world how they were meant to be seen without the dull drag of a foggy blanket taking over your mind. How were you supposed to go a few days like this? 
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, catching your glance as you looked back at him, “I don’t have a choice right now… let's talk more later, go, try to figure out why the security system went down last night.”
You opened your mouth, as if to respond, but allowed it to close again, turning your back to the man, “Whatever… talk to you later… Brother Arlan,” you left Herta’s office before he could respond to your use of his common teasing nickname around the station, not being in the mood to deal with another yelling match today. You unceremoniously slam the door behind you before you practically drag your body towards the elevator. Around you, you could hear the panicked gossip of various researchers, a sound that did nothing to calm the pounded headache that continued to make every movement a hassle. Part of you thought about talking to them - telling them that everything was under control. 
The other part of you recognized that you probably looked like a hot mess right now, and didn’t bother. They already didn’t trust you anyway - you weren’t stupid. If anything, approaching them would probably make things worse than it already was. So, you dragged your body down the stairs, onto the main floor of the master control zone and to the elevator, fully intent on not acknowledging anyone’s existence. 
It was only the sniffles of one specific person that made you do a double-take before you could press the button to call the elevator. Wen Shiling was a few feet behind you, trying to hide her sobs in her sleeve, but failing to do so, her small body physically shaking, evident even from your distance away from her. It was times like these when you wondered how children were even allowed to be researchers on this Station in the first place - it made you wonder how they could handle the stress that even you struggled to deal with. You paused, mind flickering between Wen Shiling and the elevator, sighing when you ultimately decided on the former, trudging your quiet body towards hers.
“Wen Shiling?” you spoke softly, bending down to be closer to her height, the action paining your head. Honestly, with your hangover and usual tone of conversation, you really had no idea how to approach comforting her… or anyone really, “What’s wrong sweetie, are you okay?” you hesitated before reaching a hand out, touching her gently on the shoulder. Her eyes seemed to water as she took in your form, a long sob escaping her lips. She looked from your hand to you, as if contemplated whether she wanted to move away, though she kept herself firmly planted in place. 
“No, I’m mad!” she cried, wiping her teary eyes on her sleeve. She offered you know no other words, too focused on stifling her sobs, which were still obnoxiously loud. You resisted the urge to cover your ears to block out the noise despite her cries doing nothing to soothe your headache. You gently rubbed your hand up and down her back, hoping that it offered some form of comfort to the girl. 
Though she wasn’t clear about the source of her anger, it was clear enough to guess, “You don’t have to worry about Adler, we’ll definitely bring him back soon.” Of course you left out the part where you had no idea where the little boy was or if he was even alive… but you really didn’t want to get into discussing the philosophy of life and death with a eight year old. Your mind flickered to Adler’s stupid book you had borrowed, the one you hadn’t cracked open since the night your… enjoyable evening with Screwllum was interrupted by the damned doctor you had been forced to accommodate. What if you never saw him again… what if he never got to talk to you about the book? You internally shook your head, focusing again on Wen Shiling in front of you. Aeons, if only you could have a drink to take the edge off…
“I don’t want him back… he’s stupid!” she sobbed again. You tried not to cringe at the snot covering the sleeves of her dress, forcing yourself to focus on her words, “He doesn’t talk to me and then disappears…! I don’t even want him here!”
“I’m sure he was just busy,” you attempt to soothe the girl, cursing the Aeons for failing to give you skills in soothing children. Deciding your ability to comfort children was lacking, you decided to only logically thing you could do was change your tone to match your usual personality, “You know, once we get him back I’m sure he’ll be sorry for how he treated you. That’ll serve him right, huh?.”
“He’ll be sorry?” she echoed your words, blinking dumbly up at you. You nodded in encouragement, hoping that you finally found some method to calm her crying. You forced yourself to plaster the a smile on your face, as if everything was fine and you weren’t currently feeling like death from a hangover and dealing with the aftermath of another invasion and your alcohol problem all at the same time. 
“Of course! Im sure we can even make him take an afternoon off his stupid ecology research,” you said with smirk, happy to at least let your genuine thoughts shine through for a moment before the inevitable hours of seriousness ahead, “I heard he’s horrible at board games, we could force him to play one beat him to a pulp.”
Wen Shiling smiled a bit, though her frown returned soon after, “Big sis… Can I ask you something? But you have to tell me the truth.”
Feeling like you were getting the farthest using your typical personality, you let your genuine thoughts ring through in your answer “Sure, I’m not a liar,” you shrugged, crossing your arms over your chest, “what’s up?”
“…” she hesitated for a moment before speaking, “Do you really think Adler is okay? … You think we’ll find him?” You stared at her for a moment, taking in her big brown tearful eyes and the snotty sleeves on her dress, an expression mixed with hopefulness and worry plastered all over her features. You forced a confident smirk on your face, placing your hands on your hips in mock confidence.
“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.” 
It wasn’t your first time lying to a kid, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last either. 
~~~~
Your head continued to pound as the elevator descended, countless sounds filling your head. Arlan’s yelling… Wen Shiling’s crying… it all fluttered around your brain like snow, casting an endless stream of emotions on your already overwhelmed brain. Your mind drifted to your water bottle which you knew sat on your desk in your room… would Arlan even know if you took a sip from it… He couldn’t right? How would he? There was no way he could actually expect to accurately record your sobriety, you thought to yourself. No, you just had to be sneaky with it - a few sips here and there to quell your thoughts… thats all you would need… just something to take the edge off. Even the thought of the alcohol seemed to quiet your brain, like a blanket may drive off heat on a cold night. If you were in your right mind, maybe you would realize how worrisome your thoughts truly were… but right now you really didn’t care.
“When an elevator arrives at its destination, you are expected to dismount it,” you blinked back into focus at the familiar irritating voice, eyes falling on to the Doctor. Dressed in his usual clothes, though lacking his alabaster head, he stared at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were some sort of unusual specimen in his lab. In all honesty, you couldn’t blame him. You hadn’t even realized your elevator had arrived at the floor with everyone’s personal quarters, too caught up in your thoughts to notice, which left you standing blankly forward despite the door already having opened. 
“And when someone doesn’t get out, you’re expected to politely address them, not be a snarky asshole,” you shot back, forcing yourself to leave the elevator. Not ready to end the conversation, but not wanting the elevator to go away, the Doctor stepped inside, pressing the door open button.
“Your insults lack creativity when you are hung over,” he deadpanned, sighing - whether in disappointment or disgust, you didn’t know, “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I was looking for you, you need to come with me.”
You rose an eyebrow at the Doctor, “Uh, kinda in the middle of trying to solve a crisis right now,” you deadpanned, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it… ya know, missing researchers, faulty security system. Don’t really have time for whatever bullshit you’re up to right now.”
“You wound me,” he states, though his face shows no sign of any emotion, “Since when do I act without purpose?” He looked at you with disgust, as if he was shocked at the suggestion, “Of course I am aware of the current predicament and I wish to help you.” 
You cock an eyebrow at him, arms crossed in front of your chest, “And why would you do that exactly? What’s in it for you?” skepticism dripped from your tone, a fact that you knew was all too apparent for the Doctor, who met your gaze defiantly, “Literally all you’ve done since getting here is be a pain in the ass and then almost get me killed - your actions don’t really scream helpful.”
“I seem to recall I was helpful enough in procuring wine for you and allowing you to sleep in my presence,” he smirked cockily, brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead, “Or do actions such as those not qualify as helpful in your dictionary?”
“The only thing that helped with is getting me chewed out by my boss, so thanks for that I guess, what a help you are,” you rolled your eyes, tempted to walk away, but for some reason forcing yourself to stay put, “I don’t know what the hell was in that wine you gave me, but I swear I’m not usually that… clingy.” You thought you should say more, but chose to stay silent deciding you already made enough of a fool of yourself, “Honestly I don’t even remember most of the shit I did last night.”
“Alcohol interferes with one’s ability to form long term memories, such a fact is really not suprising,” he said matter-of-factly, a cocky smirk coating his features. You barley knew this man, but he seemed to always revel in the ability of making people feel dumb, “Luckily for you, I retained my own memory of the evening, if you wish to recall more.”
“I’d rather not learn more things Arlan can yell at me about, thanks,” you huffed, forcing the conversation back to its original topic, “So really, why do you wanna help me? What’s in it for you?”
“Many things really,” he said casually, finger still firmly pressing the open button on the elevator door, “The satisfaction of helping idiots some a simple problem, the joy of reuniting the researchers with their companions… or the pleasure of building a diplomatic relationship between the IPC and the Space Station as I was directed.”
“Should’ve known of course it was about the diplomacy,” you smirked at him, propping an arm next to the elevator door, “You clearly wouldn’t act kindly on your own accord. Got your own boss who you’re afraid will chew you out like mine?”
The Doctor’s face soured at the mention of a boss, “I’d rather not think of my acquaintances at the IPC, they are not the most fond people to be around.” The scowl on his face made you interested in learning more, but the Doctor was quick to change the subject, “I merely offered my assistance to Miss Asta and she accepted. The mere certitude that doing so will satisfy my companions is simply a bonus.”
“Whatever, I don’t care if Asta got you to help, I have my own work to do,” you brushed him off, turning to move away from the elevator. You were startled when a firm hand grasped your arm, preventing you from leaving. The Doctor’s skin was warm, radiating heat through Screwllum’s dress shirt. His touch mass you freeze in your tracks, glancing over your shoulder at the Doctor. 
“I’m not asking you,” he said plainly, as if disgusted that you hadn’t picked up on that sooner, “You prescene has been requested.” You felt mesmerized for a moment by his presence, the scent of his cologne filling your nose due to your close proximity. His golden eyes seemed to bore into you, as if staring into your soul. It was the first time you really took in how… handsome he looked. Of course you had noticed before… you had eyes of course, but something about how he looked at you now seemed to awaken something within you, something you were desperate to push away, while at the same time wanting to cling on to it. 
Snapping into your senses, you yank your hand from his, crossing it over your chest once more, “Requasted by who?”
“Hmmm what was the word you used for it again?” The Doctor’s hand, now free from holding your wrist, went to his chin in contemplation, “Ah yes, that’s it. A situationship. Screwllum requested your prescene.” With his other hand, he let go of open door button, allowing the door to close behind him, “We’ll see you in the Seclusion Zone.”
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misszennya · 2 months
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Vulnerable
Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3
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WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3
✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)
Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.
⚠️WARNINGS⚠️
-Mentions of domestic violence
-Mentions of alcohol
-Fuckass Val
-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)
Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.
From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage
Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.
Great now you were cold and stressed out.
Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.
He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.
Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?
He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.
Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.
You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.
I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.
You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.
You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting
"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"
It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.
The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.
Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.
The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.
You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.
The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.
You weren't the same.
You hadn't been for quite some time.
In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.
With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.
You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.
You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.
" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.
You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.
Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.
The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.
The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.
Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.
You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.
You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.
You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.
This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.
You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.
Dearest y/n,
I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.
With love,
-Yours truly
Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.
Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.
Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.
You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.
You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.
1929: New Orleans: The Bar
Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.
You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.
He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.
He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.
"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.
Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"
" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"
You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.
"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.
"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"
You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.
"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."
You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.
"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"
Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.
He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin
You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.
You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)
"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.
He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.
A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3
-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.
320 notes · View notes
misszennya · 2 months
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the fear of loosing you ; zayne (love and deep space)
synopsis: you are rushed to the emergency room after suffering from a fatal injury from your mission, and this is not how zayne wanted to see you– not in the emergency room.
genre: angst, fluff at the end
pairings: zayne x gn!reader
warnings: mentions of blood and hospital setting, cursing (not so sure), grammatical errors
note: this is so rushed-LOL AHSHHAHA ok enjoy this is so ass but i love zayne sm THIS IS LONGER THAN I EXPECTED SO I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE WILLING TO READ THIS 🥹
tagging : @shikamiru <3
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"clear!"
"page dr. zayne!"
"should we really- he'll not be able to handle this professionally seeing that his partner is the patient here"
"he's a professional! what do you mean?!"
the nurses whispered around, contemplating if they'd page dr. zayne. they weren't sure if he was going to lose it if he saw you in this emergency room. the room was filled with tension and stress. dr. greyson now raises his voice "just page him now! y/n's heart will fail at any moment now. they're losing a large amount of blood." he commanded.
dr. greyson needs to stop the bleeding as well but he needs zayne to take over with compressions.
"what seems to be the–"
his eyes, filled with shock. his breath hitches. zayne, for the first time, maybe in his life, he goes blank. he feels faint. he sees you on that hospital bed bleeding out. he sees dr greyson doing the compressions and other nurses helping him.
"zayne, get in here now!" dr. greyson grunts out. "i'll stop the bleeding. take over first with compressions" he adds. zayne rushes to take over "she needs a blood transfusion." zayne says, trying to keep calm. he grunts as he presses on your chest harder, trying to resuscitate you. zayne watches how your pressure is going down through the monitor.
he tries to keep his tears in "c-come on now." he grunts. zayne does his compressions harder until he feels your ribcage breaking from it. this was normal- he felt this most of the time but it was disturbing for him to feel it when it came to your body. that's when his tears fell. "hold on please" he whispers.
dr. greyson is able to prepare you for surgery. "zayne, can you do this operation?" dr greyson asks. but zayne kept going with compressions. "zayne, you'll break her ribcage even more." dr greyson says.
"zayne, snap out of it!"
he stops the compressions as they hook you to some life support. zayne looks at dr greyson, teary eyed. this was the first time someone has seen him like this. he was stressed, he was scared to lose you. dr greyson sighs "you're stressed. you won't do this srugery." he tells zayne. zayne feels his stomach churning as he sees you almost covered in blood.
zayne stays silent and there was no time to lose. dr greyson goes to the bed you lie at and readies you to go to the operating room. "let's go!" dr greyson commands. zayne watches them bring you to the operating room. he stays silent as he stood in place. he felt tears coming out of his eyes. he was deeply frustrated, he couldn't lose you.
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zayne was pacing around his office. as it was already in the middle of the night, he wonders why the operation is taking long. suddenly, the door of his office opens and he stops at his tracks. it was dr greyson. he looks at the dr greyson, hoping for good news.
"how did the surgery go? are they well?" zayne asks hastily. dr. greyson sighs "it was complicated- they lost a lot of blood but they're alright now." he explains. zayne's eyes were filled with worry when he heard that it was complicated.
"what about their heart? their lungs?" he asks again, voice filled with worry. he remembers your injury from fourteen years ago, where you suffered a fatal injury as well. it affected your evol and your lungs (and so as your heart). dr. greyson sighs "zayne, they're alright. y/n's alright, okay?" he says.
dr. greyson speaks once more "i was hoping that you would do their post operation check." he says. zayne nods with no hesitation. "but may i see them already?" zayne asks. dr. greyson nodded "yes but- you have to rest. you've been up all night." he tells him. zayne shook his head "i'm used to it." he says and hurriedly leaves his office.
zayne walks to your room where you're confined. he feels his stomach dropped when he sees you. you were still unconscious, under the influence of the anesthesia and your body recovering. he rushes to the seat next to the hospital bed and he sits down.
he only stares. until tears fell from his eyes.
"i told you not to attend that mission. it would be bad for your health." he mutters under his breath. he wipes his tears. zayne stands up and leans in to give you a kiss on your forehead. "i shall be here when you wake up. get some rest, my love." he whispers, trying not to cry again.
did he go home? no. he stayed at his office, waiting for a page from the nurses that you've woke up or waiting for the sun to rise so he can check up on you.
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his morning rounds came and he didn't get the slightest blink of sleep. zayne enters your room and you were still unconscious. he does his usual work. he checks the iv drip, he checks the heart monitor, and he checks your vitals.
zayne only sighs and sits on the chair that was beside your bed. he strokes your hair slowly, "you seem to be having a good sleep." zayne remarks. he couldn't help but tear up again. he sighs and takes his glasses off as his tears fell down again. he gently grabs your hand and holds it to his cheek.
he sinks into the warmth of your palm. his tears were still cascading down his face. "please wake up." he says, almost pleading. he stays in silent sobs. "i don't think i can handle a day with you like this." he says in between sniffles.
you feel his tears on your palm. you stirr in your sleep like state. zayne notices this and puts your hand down but still holding onto it. he watches your eyes flutter.
everything was a blur to you but you see zayne beside you. you squint your eyes for a bit "z-zayne?" you called out. zayne is overjoyed, he really is.
and he shows it- this was rare of him. he wanted to burst out in tears again. "oh god- y/n? you're awake" he says. you nod at him. zayne comes closer to observe you. "i-it hurts." you stuttered out. he nods at you "i know, i know. but you're okay now. everything's alright." he says in a hush tone.
you noticed how puffy his eyes were and how tired looking he was. "zayne, i'm alright." you said to him with a smile. your hand went to zayne's cheek once more. your thumb brushes his face. he feels this again "i thought i would loose you." zayne says as he closes his eyes, feeling your warmth again.
"i'm not going anywhere." you tell him "i love you." you blurted out.
he opens his eyes and looks at you lovingly, "i love you too."
586 notes · View notes
misszennya · 2 months
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PERSONA AWAKENING!
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— characters: akira kurusu
— pairs: akira kurusu x gender neutral reader.
— akechi doesn’t make a appearance here.
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you were certain that your boyfriend and your friends were the infamous phantom thieves of heart. it was clear as day.
kamoshida’s accident was a clue that put you on edge, madarame just put you more on edge and the mafia that involved akira and your friends along with the president? those were such clues.
it didn’t go unnoticed from akira when he realized you were more quiet one day, you told him about your corrupted parents and wish the phantom thieves could help you.
it wasn’t a lie, your parents were corrupted and that day was the day your parents tried to cut your ties with your friends since they thought they were distracting you from your studies.
the timing was so right, he asked for their names, tomorrow your parents weren’t neglecting or pressuring you anymore.
it was a dead giveaway.
after that, you were sure they were the phantom thieves of heart, and the way it flew over peoples head was annoying you.
besides the timing of everything, the phantom thieves of heart was created based off of a rebellion in their heart that they locked away.
you were a hundred percent sure that the reason for these to “personas.” ( as you liked to call it ) to be created is by something that hurts them but they can’t do anything about it before something happens for them to unlock their rebellion.
you bit your nails, one thought swarming through your head; ‘how can you tell them that you know they were the phantom thieves?’ meet up with them? text them? call them?
no, those were stupid ideas, well, in your opinion.
akira watched you softly ramble underneath your breath with a soft smile, of course he couldn’t hear you but could muster a few words of ‘thieves.’ and ‘how.’
maybe catching them in the act could work? yeah, that sounded right. you didn’t care if you got in danger as long as you knew you were right, you didn’t like being wrong.
you sighed, the plan already set, you were scared, oh no doubt, you were gonna catch your boyfriend and your friends in the act, oh just imagine the scolding from akira.
you flopped down onto the cushioned seats with a tired sigh, akira wrapping a arm around you, “you good, treasure?” he asked making you nod with closed eyes.
“you guys are adorable.” ann cooed making you open one eye open, “i know right.” you and your cockiness always knew how to tease people.
ann rolled her eyes with a smile. the sudden chatter from the group decreased when you got up with your phone in your hand, eyes widened.
“i gotta go…” you excused yourself before hiding in the alleyway near léblanc, ‘ah shit, i can’t believe i’m doing this.’ you thought with panic fuelling your system.
you heard the door open with multiple shuffles, “okay, we don’t know what it’s gonna be like but we have to stay focused, got it?” you heard akira’s voice.
you smirked, ‘i was right.’
joker, skull, panther, fox, queen, oracle, noir and mona, the infamous phantom thieves that was shared among the internet, scattered around the news and the target for the governments.
“ready?” after that, a headache appeared and you felt like you were fucking flying as the scenery changed, you landed with a tumble and roll as you rubbed your legs.
‘those ballet classes actually came in handy.’ you thought before you took in the place you were in, it looked… aesthetically pleasing?
‘oh right! my plan!’ you stretched your limps before walking away from your hiding spots to see your friends, “oh, so i was right.” you announced making everybody whip their heads towards you.
“[name]!?” you heard makoto exclaim, it was obvious from their hair, “hi.” you waved with a small smile and a calm aura but you were fucking panic inside.
“we thought you left!” ann went into the conversation, “i mean, yeah, i kinda did but i came back.” you lied.
“how long have you had your suspicions?” yusuke asked while you shrugged, “kamoshida accident. it was really easy to piece not gonna lie.” you answered feeling smug.
your eyes landed on akira, your breath was knocked out of your lungs, my lord did your boyfriend look hot.
“it isn’t safe here.” he spoke while walking towards you, a hand grasping your shoulder, “i know it isn’t.” you retorted with an eye roll, “is this the cognitive world?” you raised any eyebrow at him, he’s eyes slightly widening.
“how do you know that?” you looked down at the voice to see a cat, “morgana?” you questioned while crouching to pat his head, “you look… kinda weird but cute at the same time.” an invisible arrow hit morgana.
“either way, what do you think my parents were studying?“ you sighed while standing back up, a hand on your waist, “you shouldn’t be here.” haru commented.
“i’m sorry but i just wanted to know if you guys were actually the phantom thieves of heart.”
“you could’ve told us!” ryuji said making you scoff, “i’m telling you know, aren’t i?” you snapped back with crossed up, “we have to take you back—“ “no.” you swatted akira’s hand away from you.
“i’m not leaving, i’m being stubborn and reckless i know but… just for a little, i wanna see everything. you have to explain everything to me.” you pleaded, jealousy tugging at your heart.
how can they be so carefree then you? how can they be so better then you? why can’t you be like them? they didn’t care about what people said about them so why should you?
you heard akira sigh, “fine but stay behind us.” you nodded while futaba and mona shared concerned looks.
you felt insecure and ashamed at yourself but why? it is because you put more pressure on them? because you were being stupid and refused to leave?
you clutched our into a fist until your knuckles turned white.
the place was decorated with a brownish white walls, designed with gold, white picture frames with pixelated photos nobody could figure out, red carpet, all of it looked like it was made out of a royal place.
but it sent out a not welcome aura.
it may be aesthetically pleasing but the pictures in the frames looked like it was following your every move, specifically your move.
the more you walked down the endless mansion the more it grew my unsettling and disturbing, ryuji groaned in not until frustration but from tiredness.
“how long have we been walking, man?” he whined with arms thrown up in the air, “yeah, it’s be like hours!” ann agreed while she held a hand on her head.
“this hallway is endless, and we haven’t even encountered a shadow.”
“yet.” a sadistic but a childish voice said from behind the wall they just rounded to continue the walk, “who’s there?” makoto questioned, everybody on guard, you being pushed behind akira.
it started off with a giggle before a full blown laugh came from the person, the scenery changing into a stage, the colours still there.
your eyes widened, it was the same stage you performed on when you were little, “the stage…” you muttered making mona look at you, “the stage what?” “it’s the same stage i was forced to perform on.”
and right on time, multiple shadows appeared from the seats and twisted their head towards the thieves, the red curtains pulling back revealing a bunch of shadow like figures with grins on their face.
soft music rolled in, the shadows rushing towards the thieves with the little amount of space they had, it was difficult to fight in this type of place, it really was.
the tight space was helping and after 50% of the shadows were gone, they disappeared whilst the show ended, “uh! you guys are so mean!” the same voice whined.
the scenery yet again changing into a grand entrance, two stairwells with white colouring and golden designs but the further it went up the darker it got.
and above those stairs, was you.
you were dressed in black and red, a red button up that puffed up at the collar and the sleeves it had a black bow tie with a red gem at the middle, a black vest that extended like a cape at the back, meeting at your knees, a red bow at the side, a gold chin hanging by too, black shorts with red outlining and black socks with boots.
“what the hell!?” you shouted in confusion seeing red eyes glare down at you, “you!” the glare hardened as the hand that was clutching onto the rails tightened.
“you pathetic excuse of me!“ the word’s didn’t effect you, how could it? it was right after all.
“[name] get behind me.” akira pushed you back as you had a staring contest with the other you, “boys! get them! leave the weak me alive.” you commanded as shadows emerged from the ground.
“whatever you do, don’t move from that spot.” akira demanded as you nodded but the way your body shaked, you knew at one point you had to move to do something.
you laughed at the sight, the sound of heavy breathing and fighting sounded like music to you but their eyes landed on the weak figure that had the head hung low.
“how can you call yourself strong when you can’t even defend yourself from your parents?” it taunted making you flinch at their words.
“i know how you feel, i know everything about you. you wish the people you envy died, you support others but yourself, you think you’re talentless, and you are.” it continued as you grasped your ears.
“and you wish you just disappeared from the world, erase yourself from people’s memories, you think that everything will be fine if you didn’t exist.”
“shut up! shut up!” memories rushed in as guilt hit your shoulder.
“you have a talent that i’m dying for!”
“so you’re saying that i have no talent?”
“shut up! don’t tell me how much something means to me and that i’ll regret it!”
“of course you get praised and appreciated, you have a talent that i’ll kill myself for.”
“leave me alone! stop telling me you know how i feel! you don’t know what it feels like to have something you’ve dreamed of being ripped from you!”
the thieves heard everything, the paintings were your work, the stage was what you got forced to do, the trophies became hollow to you and the shadows were your thoughts and people that told you to give up your dreams.
you watched from on-top with a smile, it watched you suffer who had a strained smile.
“this… this isn’t what i wanted to be! i’m sick and tired of people telling me on what i should do and who i should be! i’m tired of it!” you exclaimed.
akira tried to rush over to you but mona stopped him, “wait for it…” he trailed off before he heard you scream in pain, your hands clutching your head and your eyes yellow.
“well, well, took you long enough. i’ve wonder how long you could take their words without doing anything. you always follow peoples orders but after everything you do for them, they don’t repay you.” a sadistic and childish voice said.
your body feeling nothing but pain as the voice continued.
“will you continue following them and ignore the power you hold on them? will you continue to be the person everybody wanted you to be and never experience the true you? or will you accept this offering and turn the game around?”
“i… i want everything to end…” you heard it chuckle, “then our contract is sealed. i am thou, thou art i. let us turn the game around and finish it.” you dragged your finger across the mask that appeared on your face before you ripped it off, blood dripping.
“i hear you… phantasm!” your persona that resembled not only a thief but a magician, was infested with black and red as its signature, a scythe hanging on its back, their face covered with a mask even though nothing was there.
blue flames surround you as your persona and you stood strong with a new outfit.
the outfit was a black button up with a black tie that had a red gem in the middle, a black coat that slightly puffed up at the end of the sleeves and split into three parts at the end ( kinda like sumire’s coat )
black shorts that had a fencing sword at the side, silky red gloves that had a tie around the wrist part and red fishnets that was wrinkled at the end of the gloves, and finally black boots that had a ribbon on the right leg that was attached to boot.
akira wasn’t gonna lie but your outfit kinda matched his, hashtag couple goals.
“stay focus! we aren’t done yet!” futaba pointed out as akira watched you gracefully work with your persona and the sword you were equipped but not only that, you were equipped with firearms.
with your ballet classes and fencing classes, they honestly went well together, the way you slid across the floor to take down another shadow was memorizing.
“damnit! damnit! damnit! you want me to be the bad guy!? fine, i’ll be the bad guy!” you ripped off the eyepatch they had as the monster they turned into was a fucking disturbing thing i can’t even explain.
“[name]!” you whipped your head backwards as a you heard something zip near your ear as it revealed to be rope that attached itself to the wall. you jumped as akira pulled you up by the waist making you wrap your arms around his neck.
“what a charmer.” akira’s eyes made eye contact with yours as his lips twitched, “only for the best.” he teased, the two of you hopping onto the ground to regroup with the others.
“nice look, [name]!” ann commented making you chuckle, “thank you.” oh, did i mention that your mask is literally a reverted version of akira’s but with a rose at the side.
“we aren’t finished yet. stay sharp.” akira commanded while everybody’s guards were up, “i hate being the one losing! so i won’t lose this time!” you winced.
akira ripped of his mask, “arsene!”
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you dropped to your knees with a sigh, “is this the after feeling?” you questioned while akira helped you up, “yeah.” he answered with a small grin, “oh jeez.”
“you did well, [name]!” morgana praised, “oh, right, you can talk.” you mumbled, feeling drained as you leaned onto akira for support.
“i’m taking [name] upstairs to rest, try not to make so much noise.”
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misszennya · 3 months
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Alastor x Reader - Sleeping On His Lap
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Here is my attempt at a Alastor x reader fanfiction. Took me awhile to kinda get into his character so please don't be mad if Alastor seems a bit off. Enjoy!
Sigh, it was another eventful day at the Happy Hotel, or Hazbin Hotel as it was now called as a certain deer demon decided to change the name. You had spent all day doing certain tasks around the hotel such as helping Charlie create posters for the hotel, clean the rooms with Nifty, break up the brawl between Vaggie and Angel Dust as he had pissed her off one too many times and organize the bar for Husk as he was passed out drunk. You could have refused to do these things, but you enjoyed helping people, so it made it all worth it.
You had started working at the hotel after you had saw Charlie singing on the 666 news about the hotel and redeeming demons, only for her idea to be made a laughing stock upon everyone who watched the broadcast. You actually had mixed feelings about the whole redeeming thing, seeing as you weren't sure if someone like you could be sent to heaven, despite not being a very big criminal during your time when you were alive, but apparently doing a little shoplifting is enough to send you a one way ticket to hell. Charlie's words did inspire you a little bit, so even if you felt that you couldn't be redeemed, others probably had a better chance, so you decided to head to the hotel and ask for a job after the broadcast was cut off from the brawl with Charlie and Katie Killjoy. You were hired in a split second and immediately pulled into a bear hug by Charlie, and then introduced you to the others.
Back to the present, you began to feel extremely exhausted from moving around everywhere, so you headed over to one of the rooms with the long couches so you could take a rest. Heading into one of the rooms, you peeped around and saw that no one was there, which made it better as you really needed some peace and quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, you sat down on the couch, turning and falling back, as you laid your body down, with your head facing the front of the couch. "What a long day", thinking to yourself as your eyes slowly began to close and you were lulled into a deep sleep.
**2 Hours Later**
As you were sleeping, you felt the sensation of someone petting your head, the soothing feeling had awoken you a bit, but you quickly fell back asleep at the warm touch. You could feel that you were holding something in your dreams, and you assumed it was one of the pillows on the couch, so you brought it closer to your face and nuzzled it. "Mm, smells nice ", as the scent from the pillow was making you more relaxed, as it reminded you of a being in the middle of a deep forest. After sleeping for 30 more minutes, you slowly began to open your eyes, and try to make out what was in front of you. Expecting to see a pillow, you saw red stripes in front of you, "Huh?" As you were still trying to make out what was in front of you, a loud voice interrupted your thoughts: "Ah, awake now are we?", said a static voice above you. Eyes opening wide, you looked up from your position and saw Alastor staring down at you with his trademark smile. Slowly, you began to piece together that you were laying on his lap, and nuzzled into his chest as you were sleeping. "AHHHH", jumping up from your position, you rolled off his lap, and your body fell to the ground as you stared at Alastor in shock, as he continued to look at you with his glowing eyes, amused at your reaction. "Um, h-how long was I sleeping on your lap?", you softly asked, as your face was red, but your eyes were showing fear, as you remembered that Alastor did not like to be touch, and you happened to hug him in your sleep. "HAHA, For quite a while, darling. It was a very busy day, I assume?", Alastor said as he placed his arm on the armrest of the couch, and his hand against his cheek, smiling even wider.
Nodding your head, you slowly got up from your position, and started apologizing to Alastor, eyes aiming towards the ground and fingers twiddling together. Alastor raised an eyebrow and wondered why you were apologizing, to which you answered that you had hugged him in your sleep, and that he made it very aware that he did not enjoy physical contact from someone unless he initiated it, feeling extremely bad if you made him uncomfortable. Listening to you, Alastor's smile relaxed to a small grin as he looked at you with gentle eyes. He did admit that he was not use to being touch by others, and was quite surprised from the sleep hug, but he didn't detest it as much coming from you, which boggled his mind completely. It must be due to your kind and innocent nature that made him react different around you, as he was used to more of the common riff raff being terrified of him or trying to battle in a turf war, but how you were with him, made his black heart melt.
Feeling that Alastor was upset as he didn't respond to your apology, you quickly excused yourself and began to head over to the door to leave. A loud SNAP was heard and before you knew it, you had been teleported back on to the couch, this time being seated on Alastors lap. "A-Al, what are you doing?!", your face began to become as red as his hair, while your eyes stared at Alastor in shock. Smiling at you, Alastor moved his hand to your chin and tilted your face up: "There is no need to apologize, darling. If I had been upset about you hugging me, you possibly w̩͉͍̱̍̂̉̊o̫̼̐̎̋͜u͚͌l̳̓d̠͉̗͋̔͞'̼̳̣̼͊̏̾̾t͜͝ ͕̱͐͠ḇ̅e̙͗ ͍͓͔̱͍͛̔͌͘͞a̝̜̘̎́͒ḽ͒í̱̙̈́v̧̌e̠͠ ̢̹̜́́̈̀ͅr̲͇̳̅̽͌i̩͈̒̅ĝ̲̦̎ẖ̛̳̲͙̀͌̽͘ͅt͉̅ ͖̞͍̞́̋͛͛ň͚̫̦́͂̿͟o̱͌w̡̕" he said, as his eyes flashed for a second into radio dials. "However! I am not opposed to be touched by you. So no need to apologize, my dear.", Alastor said as he continued to smile at you widely, but his glowing eyes were looking at you softly, letting you know that he was not angry with you. Feeling shy, you turned your head away from Alastor, muttering a soft okay, as your heart was beating rapidly. "Smile my dear!" Alastor said as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, to have you look at him again. Baring through the embarrassing situation, you gave Al a small smile, which pleased him. "You always over do it, darling. While Charlie and I appreciate your efforts at helping the hotel, it does no good to work yourself to the point of fatigue. If you are ever feeling exhausted and need a break, don't be hesitant to come find me, as my radio tower is open to you. Understand, my dear?" said Alastor, as he leaned closer towards you, making you flustered again.
Nodding your head was enough to let Alastor knew you understood as he chuckled, while sliding you off his lap, and as he stood up from the couch. "Now then, we should probably head back to the lobby before the others get worried about our lack of presence.", He said, as he straighten his coat out, while turning towards you, extending his hand out for you to take it. "Yeah we should", as you grabbed his hand, and made your way with him back to the lobby. You were still trying to process what just happened between you and Alastor, but you feel like you both have become much closer then before, and you didn't mind it one bit.
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misszennya · 3 months
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their reactions to you showing up with an injury
wriothesley, neuvillette, baizhu, alhaitham, xiao x f!reader
cw: mentions of blood and injuries (nothing terribly graphic), weapons, fighting, mentions of kidnapping. please let me know if i missed anything!
a/n: i will admit xiao's is not in keeping with the prompt bc you dont really "show up" injured but this is my post and i can do as i please teehee :3c
Wriothesley
As you carefully make your way down through the Fortress of Meropide, you keep your guard up. The wound that you sustained is causing a searing pain to spread across your side. Once you make it through the doors to Wriothesley's office, you finally collapse to your knees. "Is someone there?" you hear Wriothesley's voice ring out from upstairs. "It's just me" you respond in a much weaker voice than you anticipated. You really had spent all of your energy. You force yourself to your feet and begin the daunting ascension up the stairs. Once you reach the top, you see him sitting at his desk, eyes glued to a document in front of him. Before you can even say anything, you're falling to your knees again.
"Y/n?!" Wriothesley immediately jumps out of his chair and runs over to your side. "Archon, what happened to you? Let me go notify someone to get Miss Sigewinne" he started towards the stairs behind you. "No!" you stop him, "Please just...don't bother her with this". "Sweetheart, don't be ridiculous. Do you know how she would feel if she heard you say that?" he returns back to your side and kneels down to check you over. His eyes snap immediately to the red splotch on your right side.
"You're bleeding. We need to get you to the infirmary now-"
"Sigewinne told me there was a group of individuals she overheard saying mean things about her while she was visiting the surface. She confided in me and I comforted her to reassure her that they are foolish and don't know what they are talking about" you explain. Wriothesley stares at you as his brain connects the dots.
"Y/n-"
"Don't say it. I know. I had never seen Sigewinne so saddened before. It pained me to see her feel so down about herself over the words of some random mean spirited people. I don't want her to know I went looking for them and got hurt. It would only make her feel worse".
Wriothesley looks at you with sympathy in his eyes, "I can't say I wouldn't have had similar instincts. I’m just surprised you were stupid enough to act on them". "Thanks" you roll your eyes and try to rise to your feet again. He's quick to assist you and help you move to the couch. "I'll be right back. I'm going to get some supplies" he quickly disappears.
When he returns, he begins tending to your wounds. Once he sees the cut on your side, scrapes on your arms, the scrape on your cheek and the dried blood on your hands, he feels his body heat with anger. "I'm not the one who wanted to fight. I just wanted to tell them off. There was one guy that got physical first" you start explaining how it happened. That alone just made him angrier. He clenches his jaw and bites his tongue to allow you to keep speaking. "He told me to mind my business and that he didn't even know who I was until I told him. That's when he realized that..." you trail off. Wriothesley's eyes look up from your wound for a moment. "His brother is a prisoner here at the fortress. He told me that you had his sentence increased after there was an altercation between him and another prisoner" you admit.
"That has nothing to do with you though" he finishes bandaging your wound. He hands you one of his black button down shirts to wear since your own clothing was ruined. As you button the shirt, he searches your face. "You're not telling me something" he puts a hand on his hip. "Why would he get you involved in something that’s between me and him?" he questions. "It's not about me being involved with what happened. It's that he knows we’re together" you play with the hem of the shirt. His arms drop to his side, "He attacked you as a means of hurting me?". You nod and sigh in response. He sits down next to you and throws an arm around you to pull you into his side. You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head and you notice the fist in his lap that is curled into a tight fist.
"Please, tell me the name of this gentleman. Because I'll be damned if I let him hurt my girl without punishment".
Neuvillette
It was your own fault for getting curious about this cavern you had found out on one of your adventure guild commissions. Now, here you are limping to the Palais Mermonia. It's later in the evening so there are hardly any people out. There was a Melusine who noticed you were injured but you told her you were going to see the Chief Justice and that he would take care of you.
You walk through the doors of Neuvillette's office and he immediately turns to face you, ignoring the document he was just glancing over. When he notices the limp in your walk he is quick to come to your aid. "You're injured? Please, allow me" he scoops you off your feet and carries you over to the sofa. When you're sitting comfortably, he kneels to the ground to examine your ankle.
"It appears it's just twisted. Best you keep off of it as much as possible for the time being" he sighs in relief. When he stands back up and looks down at you, that's when he notices the cut you have on your cheek as well. He disappears without saying a word and returns with a cloth and a bottle of some sort of clear liquid. He sits next to you and puts some of the liquid on the cloth before gently applying it to your cut. You wince at the sting for a moment and he stops, "This is just to prevent it from getting infected. I apologize if it is painful" he continues to gently dab at the injury. "I do wish you would be more careful when you're out doing your tasks" he softly lectures you. "I know" you nod, "I'm sorry". "You need not apologize to me, my dear. I am just simply voicing my concern for you" he places the bottle of liquid and cloth on the table.
"I don't want you to worry about me" you reach over and brush some of the hair from his face. As your hand falls away, he grabs your fingertips in his hand and places a soft kiss to the back of your own. "I know you don't. I don't necessarily want to worry so often either" he admits and holds your hand in between both of his and places it in his lap. "Do you ever wish I worked here at the Palais with you instead of with the Adventurer’s Guild?" you ask. "Hmm" he thinks about your question for a moment. "My initial answer would be yes. But I'm afraid it's just for my own selfish reasons so they carry no relevance" he soothingly rubs your hand.
You place your other hand on top of his, "If I didn't want your honest thoughts I wouldn't have asked. So please be open with me, my love" you cup his cheek. He leans into your touch and sighs. "I would prefer if you worked at the Palais so I could keep a better eye on you, yes. Knowing you are away and willingly putting yourself in danger does fill me with a sense of anxiety. It's strange. In all my years of living amongst humans I've never known what it would be like to feel such strong attachments to one" he goes on. Your heart leaps at his earnest confession. "I will consider your words. I'd be lying if I didn't say I wanted to be in your presence more often. Either way I think we work well together and I wouldn't be opposed to working in a less physically demanding environment" you give him some hope. "My dear, you don't need to meet my wishes so easily. Please give it some more consideration before making any definitive decisions" he leans over and kisses your forehead.
"It is my duty to protect the people of Fontaine but it is my privilege to be your companion".
Baizhu
It's embarrassing really. Qiqi had encountered an issue at the pharmacy this morning when someone requested some Qingxin and for some reason there were none in stock. "Oh, um, I'm sorry...It appears we are completely out of Qingxin" she apologized to the customer. You could see how truly distraught she was at the situation so you went out on your own to retrieve some Qingxin. How were you supposed to know it was going to start raining and you would slip and fall in the mud?
When you hit the ground, the arm you had out to brace yourself with made contact with a jagged piece of stone. After washing the wound with water from a nearby stream, you tried your best to get some of the earth off your clothing. Then, you were on your way. Unfortunately, the ten Qingxin you were able to collect turned into four after your fall. They had not only been completely ruined by the mud but a couple had landed underneath you, effectively being crushed under your weight.
You brace yourself for the lecture you are more than likely going to receive from Baizhu. Walking into his home, you see him sitting in a chair looking at a book of some sort. His eyes look up from the book so he can greet you and he sees the poor state you are in. "What in Teyvat happened, my love?" he rises to his feet and places his book on the table. "Well...I was getting Qingxin because Qiqi said we didn't have any at the pharmacy and then it started raining" you take off your coat and wince at the pain in your arm. His eyes widen, "Let's get you cleaned up and then I will get started on tending to your injuries".
One quick shower and a set of fresh loungewear later, you are sitting on the couch as Baizhu tends to you. "You really should be more careful. I would hate for something truly awful to happen to you and I can't be there to aid you" he sighs as he carefully works on finishing the stitches for your arm. The rock apparently ended up cutting you deeper than you had originally thought. "I just didn't want Qiqi to be upset" you look at the ground. His eyes look up from your arm for a moment to look at your face. The genuine disappointment in your own eyes makes his heart sink.
"It was very kind of you to go out of your way to help her. I'm sure you know it also means a great deal to me that you care for her so deeply" he starts wrapping your arm in a bandage. You look over at him with a gentle smile. "She always tries her best despite her own circumstances. In a way, I'm almost envious of her" you admit. Baizhu grabs your legs and places them over his lap. He lifts the material of your lounge pants up your legs and his hands begin to knead at the flesh of your legs to soothe your aching muscles. "You know she wouldn't want you to put yourself in any imminent danger just for her sake, yes?" he inquires. You nod in response and look down in shame.
"I don't mean to make you feel bad. That is never my intention. I just wish you cared for yourself the way you care for others" he slides the legs of your lounge pants back down as he finishes massaging your muscles. "I'll work on it" you smile apologetically at him. He smiles warmly in response before pulling you onto his lap. You snake your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your waist. His hair is freed from its usual styling and is freshly combed through. You tuck some of his hair behind his ear. A soft hum emits from his throat as he turns his head to kiss your wrist, prompting you to keep your hand near. The gesture warms your heart and you gently cup his cheek in your hand.
"Who needs Qingxin when I've got the most valuable and healing flower in all of Teyvat, right here at my fingertips".
Alhaitham
The last thing you expected was to get ambushed by a bunch of eremites just outside of Sumeru City. It was a five man group of former associates of Ayn Al-Ahmar. The plan was to kidnap you and hold you hostage as a means of getting Alhaitham to fall into a trap they would have preemptively set up. Fortunately for you, Dehya was near the entrance of Sumeru City when she heard you trying to fight off the group of men in the distance and noticed a flash of a vision ability from where she stood. When she got there, you were clearly already visibly spent. There was still one man in a standoff with you. 
In your moment of weakness, you stumble forward and before you could even react, the man darts towards you and attempts to sink his dagger into your abdomen. You quickly try to defend yourself and manage to grab his wrist. Even though you have your grip on him, he uses as much strength as he can and you can feel the tip of the blade pierce your skin. You grunt and grind your teeth as you desperately use the strength you no longer have to fight him off. Dehya quickly takes action and subdues the man before he has the chance to overpower you. Now that you can finally put your guard down, you place your hand where the dagger had got you. The blood that appears on your hands as you pull your palm away makes you queasy and dizzy. "Y/n? Hey! Y/n!" you hear Dehya call out to you and see her run toward you. But it's no use. You fall to the ground unconscious.
When you awake, you look around you and notice you are in Alhaitham's living room. "You're awake" you hear Alhaitham say at your side. You turn your head and he's sitting on the loveseat across from the one you are on. As you go to sit up you are immediately met with a burning pain in your side. "Hey, easy. Don't move too much" he comes to your side and gently pushes you back down onto your back. "I had Tighnari drop off some incense to help relax your body and hopefully speed along the healing process" he explains as he carefully adjusts the pillow underneath your head and sits down on the edge of the loveseat. You look up at the ceiling, "How did I even get here?".
He sighs, "Dehya brought you. I sent Kaveh out to get some first aid supplies". "They did this because of me didn't they?" he gently places his hand over where you were stabbed. "Don't do that Alhaitham" you grab his hand with your own. "I'm not saying I claim responsibility for what happened. I just don't think it's worth being in a relationship with me" he admits wholeheartedly, but not in a self pitying way. If anything he pities the fact that you ended up in this position due to something that was beyond your control. "It's not going to take a fight with a bunch of guys, who have nothing better to do, to make me just walk away from this" you squeeze his hand.
"This?" he looks down at you. "What? I think what we have together is much more precious to me than you may realize" you search his eyes for an inkling of what he may currently be thinking. A gentle smile appears on his face. "You mean everything to me. I mean it" he brushes a small strand of hair away from your face. You feel the weight of the loveseat shift underneath you as Alhaitham leans down and places a tender kiss to your lips. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss.
"Okay! I'm back with-" Kaveh suddenly walks into the house. Alhaitham immediately removes himself from you with a grunt. "You just couldn't wait at least five more minutes before barging in here?" he complains. Kaveh places the items he was asked to retrieve on the table. "Oh, well excuse me for trying to gather the items that are supposed to help her feel better" he barks. Alhaitham just glares at him with his eyes narrowed. "Okay, fine! I get it. I'll leave you to suck face with your girlfriend" he disappears into his room with a huff.
"He's just jealous he's not the one out here that gets to kiss you the way I get to".
Xiao
Yep, you are definitely lost. All you were tasked with was going to Liyue Harbor to get some produce for Wangshu Inn. At some point down the line in your route, you came across a group of monsters and in an attempt to avoid them you went another way. Unfortunately the way you went instead ended up leading you down a path you were unfamiliar with.
A rustle in the bushes to your left startles you, causing you to trip over your feet and fall to the ground. The produce you had gathered from Liyue Harbor is now scattered on the ground all around you. As you lift your arm to start gathering the items back together, you wince and notice a pretty deep cut. You grit your teeth and try to ignore it. The rustling in the bushes startles you once again except this time, a wild boar is charging out towards you. It knocks into you and you go to take a step back to catch yourself but you fail to notice the drop off of the cliff. You slip and fall but somehow manage to catch yourself on a piece of foliage growing out of the side of the cliff edge. The arm you are forced to use to hold yourself up is the arm with the cut. Pain sears through your arm and you feel your grip slipping. Before you can catch yourself, the anchor you once held onto slips through your fingers. You are now free falling.
Your mind is filled with thoughts of Xiao and the moment you shared before you left Wangshu Inn for Liyue Harbor. He told you to be safe and call his name if you ran into trouble and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before reassuring you would be safe. "Adeptus Xiao!" you shout up at the sky as you force your eyes shut. Within an instant you feel a pair of arms around you and in the blink of an eye you are safely on the ground. You fall to your knees as your legs give out under you from the panic that continues coursing through your body.
Xiao kneels down in front of you and places a hand on your cheek. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe now" he speaks low and soft. You look at him and start to steady your breathing. "I-" you stutter, "I am sorry for being so careless". "Shh" he shushes you, "I'm just relieved you're alright". He checks you over and notices the cut on your arm and his face hardens. "We need to get you back to Wangshu Inn. Please take my hand?" he holds his hand out for you to take and you of course oblige. And almost as quickly as you take his hand in yours, you are back at Wangshu Inn.
He leads you over to his bed and has you sit down. "I'll be right back to dress your wound" he swiftly exits. When he comes back he begins cleaning your wound with a rag and starts applying an ointment of some sort. "It's supposed to speed up the healing process" he notices you looking at it with curious eyes. As he bandages your arm you study his face. "Why are you looking at me?" he tries to fight back a grin. "Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you. Adeptus Xiao" you smile fondly at him. His eyes snap up to yours and you can almost feel a pull between the two of you. You both subconsciously lean toward each other until you are just centimeters away from each other's faces. Your breaths tangle together between the two of you as he presses his forehead against yours. His hand reaches for the side of your head and he presses his lips against yours.
The kiss is almost urgent. Like you don't have much time left together. Your hand lifts to wrap around the wrist of his hand that gently cradles the side of your head. When your lips part, your foreheads press together again. "You should get some sleep. It will help you heal faster" he removes his hand from your head. As you get comfortable in the bed, he crawls in beside you and holds you against his chest. "Why did you wait until after you fell to call for me?" he asks. "What?" you feign ignorance. "The marks on your hand" he grabs your hand in his and opens your palm to reveal small cuts that you obtained when your grip slipped. "I thought I could save myself" you sigh in disappointment. He kisses your forehead and tucks your head under his chin.
"I know that you are more than capable of saving yourself. But don't ever forget it is always my honor to save you. There aren't many things I hold close to me in this existence. But you are the most precious thing I will always hold close".
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misszennya · 3 months
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BF!DR. RATIO X GN!READER — smau
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contains: college au, fluff, a joke about pregnancy
a/n: are some acc reused from my argenti ver.? yes. reduce reuse and recycle y’all 🤞🤞
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