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roomsofangel · 1 day

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LOVER, PLEASE STAY. . .

chapter five

synopsis you and wooyoung have been best friends for as long as you could remember, always overcoming everything in your friendship even after a few bumps in the road and confessions in the past. you could always trust that no matter wooyoung will always be there, right?

wc 4.4k

chapter warnings none that really come to mind, but there is a drug mention in the end but not an actual scene and this chapter surrounds a death anniversary so there is mentions of such and of grief!

a/n aaandd we’re back! can you believe only two more chapters? i didn’t think i’d receive so much love for such a small little idea that prompted this but i’m very very grateful! i also mentioned in the last update about me trying to get ateez tickets and i got them! totally still processing it all— but with such being said, these last few chapters are definitely going to be long and include a lot so get comfy:3

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ♥️

your thoughts were a jumbled up mess as the memory of wooyoung’s emotional outburst the night before came rushing back to you as soon as your eyes had opened. you could barely remember all the details of what he had told you, but the fact that he had been so vulnerable before you was still clear in your mind. you weren't sure how things would be between you now that he had shared the part of him he had tried so hard to keep away from you, but you were hoping if anything did change — it’d be a positive shift. you don’t think you could handle more pressure of wooyoung’s misery if it continued on

because sure, misery loved its company, but it was starting to overstay its welcome

you sat alone for a while, trying to make sense of what had happened. wooyoung’s words still lingered in your mind, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of guilt and frustration. you knew that you shouldn't have gotten angry with him at first, that you should have been more understanding. but your fear for him was overwhelming, and it was hard to think rationally when your feelings were so strong.

as you continued to think, something occurred to you. you recalled how yeosang had acted in the weeks leading up to the events that you were starting to believe haunted wooyoung more than he let on. yeosang had been distant and secretive, withdrawing and disappearing suddenly without a word. you hadn't really thought about it at the time, for the sake of your own denial and sanity — but now you couldn't help but compare that behavior with wooyoung

“what if he ends up like—“

you remembered san’s words, how he was about to mention the name that the seven of you haven't said in nearly two years, and the guilt and ache that came with it. yeosang’s name was almost taboo now, and the mere mention of him could send chills running through your body. however, you weren’t able to sink yourself further into your own rues due to the sound of a knock dragging you back into reality

"come in," you called out, your voice shaky. you held your breath as the door creaked open, dreading the person who was on the other side. to your relief, it was wooyoung, who looked exhausted and frazzled.

wooyoung laid down on your bed, his body slumping over as if he was completely spent. the exhaustion and desperation were both obvious in his manner, and he looked like he was on the edge of breaking down again. "can i have a hug?" he asked, his voice cracking and his composure breaking. "just one hug..." he begged, his words broken by a deep breath and a choked-back sob. his hands were shaking as he reached them out towards you.

you couldn't help but feel your heart breaking for him. you walked over to him and sat on the edge of the bed, gently taking his hands into yours. you pulled him towards you, into a tight embrace. his grip was tight, and he didn't let go even when you gently tried to pull away.

he looked up at you with tear-filled eyes and a small, pleading gesture, almost like a child asking for something. "could i..." he hesitated, as if he was afraid of being rejected. his voice broke as the words fell out of his mouth. "could i sleep here tonight?” wooyoung’s voice was still shaky and broken as he spoke. he just didn't want to be alone tonight. he didn't want to face the emptiness and silence of his own bed, and he was hoping that by sleeping in yours with you, he would be able to find a bit of comfort and warmth that he knows he’s been depriving himself of

"yeah.. okay," you said softly, unable to bear seeing him like this. you took his hand into yours and squeezed gently. "you can stay here tonight." you paused, realizing just how intimate a moment this was, but you also understood his desperation and could not deny him. he was your weakness, your downfall.

"thank you," he said softly, his hands trembling slightly in yours. he just needed a few hours of reprieve, a chance to rest his exhausted mind in a familiar place.

"i appreciate it more than you know," he said, nuzzling his head into your neck. his breath was hot on your skin, and he was so close to you. you could feel his body trembling lightly, but you could also feel his heartbeat as he rested his head against your flesh, his hands holding you tightly.

"i just..." he was silent for a beat, trying to gather his thoughts. "i just want some comfort... just want to feel close to you again." he was shaking from exhaustion and emotion, the weight of everything finally catching up to him. you held him close, your bodies pressed against one another as he buried his head in your neck.

he clung to you tightly, not letting go. he was shaking in your arms, his breath coming fast and heavy. "i’m so tired... so tired," he whispered to you. "i want to feel safe and secure again..." he leaned his head heavier into your neck, his body completely slack in your hands, as if he could no longer support himself.

"you’re safe..." you said the words again, hoping that he would believe it. you gripped him tighter, your hands massaging his back as you tried to soothe him. it was difficult... you, yourself felt anxious and unsure. you wanted to provide him with the comfort he needed, but you were unsure of yourself, of whether or not you could do it.

"i know..." he mumbled, shifting in his position so that he was lying on his side with his back pressed against you. he was breathing slowly, but his breath was short and shallow, and you could hear his heart pounding rapidly against your skin. "i know i’m safe with you," he continued, his voice slightly shaken.

he broke off again, unable to speak, his breath suddenly hitching and a heavy silence filling the room. "it’s been two years," he whispered, choking back his tears. you knew instantly that he was talking about yeosang. “and yet..." he muttered, his breath quickening as the memories came rushing to his mind once more. his voice broke again, as if he couldn't bear to say the words.

you felt the weight of his fear, his anxiety, and his worry, as he gripped you tighter and pressed himself all the more into you.

he could feel you squeezing him back, comforting him in this moment of weakness. you were holding each other tightly, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world didn't exist. there was just the two of you... him and his fear... and you and your embrace.

"and then i think about the anniversary coming up..." he mumbled, barely holding on to his composure. your instinct was right, yeosang’s anniversary was causing this sudden spiral, which was only magnified by his fatigue and exhaustion. you could feel the weight of his words, the weight of his pain, but you also felt the weight of the tragedy and its impact on his psyche.

wooyoung paused for a moment, gathering his composure again. "i tried to hide it," he muttered. "i tried to deal with it on my own... i tried to be strong for everyone else when it happened." he sighed deeply as his breath hitched again. "i didn't want any of you to worry... or to deal with my pain too..."

you moved wooyoung so that he was facing you, your hands still holding him tight. he looked up at you, his eyes filled with pain, with exhaustion. you gently moved a few strands of his hair out of his face, and you could see his skin was damp with sweat.

"i just..." he mumbled, his eyes shifting away from you again.

"…didn't want to be a burden.” he was silent for a moment, his breath still coming in short, rapid gasps. "i couldn't bear to make you guys worry... so i hid it... i hid everything..." he struggled to continue, as a few tear fell from his eyes.

wooyoung’s eyes shifted back to you, his expression one of deep desperation and guilt. you could see the tear trails streaming down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe. "i didn't mean for it to turn out like this..." he breathed out, his voice barely holding on.

“i don’t want to” he said, choking back more sobs. "i don’t want to end up like sangie... i didn’t mean to go down this path..." he was losing his composure, his anxiety and sadness spiraling out of control.

you held him close, your grip tightening around him as you tried to instill as much reassurance as you could. you felt his body trembling and twitching in your grip, and he was holding onto you for dear life. his expression was one of pure fear and sadness, and his tears kept falling down his cheeks.

you continued to hold him tight, your hands massaging his back as you kept speaking to him. "i know... i know..." he was trembling, you could feel the heat of his skin as you moved your palms over him, your touch soft and comforting. "i know you didn't..." you were saying, your voice soft and reassuring.

"i know you're afraid... i know you didn't want any of this to be happening..." your hands continuing to massage his back. wooyoung still clung onto you, as if he didn't trust himself to stand on his own right now.

you continued to talk to him in a soothing voice, your words meant to calm him and bring him back to reality. "it’s not your fault, wooyoung... you’re going to be okay..." you could feel him start to relax a little bit, his body slowly becoming less rigid. his breathing was still coming fast, but it was starting to slow down and become more controlled.

"for as long as i’m here…” you said, your voice even softer now. “you’re going to have someone who loves you and who will never give up on you, wooyoung… never." your words were meant to bring him even more comfort and reassurance, and you could feel the weight of them resonate with him as he held onto you tighter.

you could feel wooyoung continuing to relax even more into your embrace, as if your words were giving him a sense of security and love that he desperately needed. “i’ll always be here for you… i won’t ever leave you to deal with any of this on your own…” you said, continuing to hold him, your hands gently massaging his back with each word you spoke to help soothe him even more.

"i promised that day, didn’t i?" you said softly, "do you remember?" you waited for his response, silently hoping that it would bring back good memories and comfort to him. your fingers gently ran through his hair, and you held him even tighter, hoping that it would help him feel safe and loved.

"yeah," he mumbled, the memories of that day flooding his mind. "we were ten." wooyoung pulled you closer to him, taking comfort in your embrace. "we were young and naive... but we still promised..." his voice trailed off, filled with a mixture of sadness and nostalgia.

"but i’m still here, aren't i?" you said gently, your eyes meeting his. wooyoung nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. his grip on you loosened slightly as a sense of relief washed over him.

"can... can i kiss you?" he was staring at you, his expression one of vulnerability and anticipation. you could see the mixture of hope and desire in his eyes, your face flushed a soft pink, and you nodded slowly, a small but warm smile playing on your lips. wooyoung leaned in gently, closing the distance between you as he pressed his lips against yours.

his lips felt soft and gentle against yours as he pressed them against you. you felt a warm, tingly sensation wash over you, and instinctively, you closed your eyes. wooyoung’s hand moved to the back of your head, gently pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. your bodies melted into one another, and you felt a sense of warmth and contentment radiating from both of you as he held you tightly. his lips moved against yours, and you could feel the longing and need behind the gesture.

wooyoung’s hand held the back of your neck firmly but gently, and his touch felt warm and comforting. the kiss continued, deeper and more passionate with each passing moment. you could feel your heart rate increasing and your breath speeding up, as your bodies pressed against each other. you could almost feel him pouring all of his love and need into that kiss, as if he was trying to tell you how much he needed you and wanted to feel close to you.

you felt wooyoung’s tongue gently trace over your lips. you parted your lips slightly and allowed him to enter your mouth, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. his tongue slowly explored every inch of your mouth, and you felt a wave of heat wash over you as he pressed himself even closer to you.

as the kiss broke off, you could hear wooyoung panting softly, his expression one of desire, love, and need. however, he quickly gathered himself and pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting yours again. he took a moment to catch his breath before speaking softly, "i… i don't want our firsts to be like this."

"i… i just..." he stuttered, his voice trailed off as he tried to find the words to express himself. you could see the regret and guilt in his eyes as he looked at you, knowing that he had let his emotions take over again. he let out a soft sigh and looked down, avoiding your gaze for a moment before speaking again. "i’m sorry," he whispered, his voice low and filled with remorse. "i shouldn’t have done that... not like this."

you reached out and touched wooyoung’s chin gently, lifting his face up so that he was looking at you. "hey," you whispered softly, your voice filled with love and reassurance. "it’s okay." you held him in your embrace as you continued, "it’s okay. i understand." he looked at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of disappointment or disdain, but all he found was warmth and comfort.

you held wooyoung in your arms, rubbing his back soothingly as you spoke softly to him. "let’s just get some rest, okay?" you whispered. "everything is okay." you knew that he needed time to process his thoughts and feelings, and that rest would do him good. "we’ll figure this out tomorrow," you said softly, your voice assuring and gentle. "for now, just rest."

you continued to soothingly rub his back, the warmth of your touch helping to calm his nerves and ease his mind. you could feel his body start to relax again in your embrace, as if he was slowly letting go of the tension and emotion that had been weighing him down. his breathing slowed, and he snuggled in closer to you, seeking comfort and security.

"everything is going to be okay," you whispered again, your words a soothing mantra to both him and yourself.

"me and wooyoung kissed last night," you spoke softly while standing under the streetlight with seonghwa. the words left your lips quietly, and you could see the surprise and disbelief on seonghwa’s face as he listened to you speak. you knew that hongjoong would have a more concerned and negative reaction, but right now, you just needed someone to talk to about what had happened. you waited patiently for hongjoong to park the car, feeling the weight of your confession hanging in the air between you and seonghwa.

seonghwa’s expression shifted to one of concern and compassion. he could sense the hesitation in your own words and could see that you were conflicted about what had happened. "are you okay?" he asked softly, leaning in to hear you better in the dim light.

you took a deep breath and continued, "it just happened, hwa." you glanced down, “we kissed.... i mean... he kissed me, and i kissed him back... i don't know what it means... or what to do next…"

seonghwa listened in silence, he knew that you were going through a lot right now and needed someone to listen to you. he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly, silently showing you that he was there for you. "it’s okay," he said softly. "you don't have to figure it out right now." he knew that you were confused and uncertain about what this kiss meant for your relationship with wooyoung.

seonghwa continued speaking, his voice filled with concern and sincerity. "just make sure you don’t get hurt down the road, okay?" he said softly. "i know hongjoong wants what's best, too." he knew that hongjoong was going to be the rational, realistic one in this situation, but seonghwa also understood the complexity of your feelings for wooyoung and was trying to offer you a balanced perspective.

seonghwa’s words hung in the air, prompting you to consider the implications of your budding relationship with wooyoung and the potential risks involved. you knew that hongjoong’s approach might be more practical and pragmatic, but seonghwa’s point of view was important too. "you’re the only one who can decide what's best for you in this situation," he added softly. "just be cautious and take care of yourself, okay?"

you felt a wave of gratitude towards seonghwa in that moment, knowing that he was trying to help you navigate this situation with clarity and compassion. you turned to face him more, a warm and sincere smile playing on your lips. "thank you, hwa," you said softly. "really. i appreciate your support and advice."

seonghwa’s expression softened, and he looked at you with concern in his eyes. "of course, yn," he said softly. a hint of worry crossed his face as he continued, "but i’m also just worried for wooyoung. has he said anything to you?" the worry in seonghwa voice was evident, and you could sense that he was just as concerned about wooyoung’s well-being as he was about yours.

"before we kissed," you began softly, nodding in acknowledgment, "the anniversary is coming up." as you spoke, your gaze shifted to seonghwa, and you knew that he understood exactly what you meant without further explanation. a hint of sadness crossed your features as you continued, "he opened up to me about it, and i’ve never seen him so vulnerable before." your voice was filled with a mixture of pain and sympathy, and your eyes reflected the weight of wooyoung’s emotions

"out of the decades i’ve spent alongside him, i’ve never seen him like that, hwa," you whispered softly, your voice filled with a deep sense of sadness and pain. your eyes shimmered with tears as you recalled wooyoung’s vulnerability and the raw emotions he had shared with you. you felt a heavy weight in your chest, knowing that the anniversary was approaching and that it would likely bring up memories and feelings that would be difficult for all of you to handle.

you felt a lump forming in your throat as you continued, your words barely above a whisper, "it was like he opened up his heart and let me see his pain and his fear for once in a long time. i could see how much he's still hurting, and it breaks my heart to see him like that... to know that he's carrying all of that pain and trauma all on his own just for the sake of not worrying us." your own pain evident in your voice, reaching out to gently hold seonghwa’s hand for comfort.

seonghwa listened intently, his expression filled with empathy and concern. he squeezed your hand gently, offering silent support. "what did he say?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "did he talk about the anniversary and how he's feeling?" your emotions were a tangled mix of empathy, concern, and sadness, and you felt a deep sense of helplessness knowing that there was little you could do to ease wooyoung’s pain.

you swallowed hard, trying to push down the overwhelming emotions that were threatening to consume you. "he spoke about it," you began, your voice catching on the words, "he told me how scared he is, how much pain he's still in." you took a deep breath, taking a moment to compose yourself before continuing, "he doesn't want us to worry, but i can tell that he's struggling."

"and i can’t help but worry," you said quietly, "i’m scared that he might go down the same path that yeosang did." your words hung in the air, the weight of the past haunting your thoughts and fueling your worry for wooyoung.

seonghwa nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring your concern. "i know," he whispered back, his voice soft and filled with understanding. "me too."

after parking the car and walking to where you and seonghwa were standing, waiting for him, hongjoong noticed the tension in the air and the serious expressions on both of your faces. he raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from one of you to the other, before speaking up, "what’s going on? everything okay?"

“we were talking about yeosang.” seonghwa whispered

hongjoong’s expression darkened as soon as he heard seonghwa’s words. he knew the topic was a sensitive one and that mentioning yeosang would bring up difficult memories and emotions for all of you who were still healing and in grief in your own ways. "oh..," he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness and resignation. he didn't need any more explanation; he understood the heaviness that had settled over the three of you

“wooyoung told me more last night, i’m scared he’s going to go down that same path.” you expressed quietly

hongjoong’s concern deepened further upon hearing your words. he knew that your worry was well-founded and shared your fear that wooyoung might follow the same path that yeosang had taken. his expression was grave, but he also knew that you couldn't let your worries consume you and cloud your judgment. "we have to keep an eye on him," hongjoong said firmly. "we can't let history repeat itself."

seonghwa voiced his concern, a frown settling on his features. "but what if that makes him pull away more?" he looked at you and hongjoong, his expression filled with worry and uncertainty. you all knew that wooyoung had a tendency to isolate himself when he was experiencing difficult emotions, and you didn't want him to shut either of you out completely. hongjoong and you both nodded in agreement with seonghwa’s point, the weight of their worry growing heavier as you three considered the potential challenges ahead.

hongjoong’s expression tightened as he considered wooyoung’s possible reaction. "you’re right," he finally said, his voice firm yet tinged with sadness. "we need to approach this carefully."

"if we come on too strong, he might feel like we’re encroaching on his privacy and drive him further away." hongjoong’s voice was filled with a mixture of determination and concern. he knew how stubborn and independent wooyoung could be, and you needed to find a balance between providing support and respecting his boundaries.

as you thought about the situation, you recalled wooyoung’s reaction nights ago, when you had stumbled upon the truth and how he was using drugs to cope with everything. you recalled the immediate defensiveness and closed-off behavior he had displayed, and the memory stirred up a mix of hurt and worry within you. you knew that you didn't want to repeat that situation, both for your own emotional well-being and for wooyoung’s sake as well.

“but we also have another thing, joong,” seonghwa sighed making hongjoong’s eyebrow raise in confusion and curiosity, especially when seonghwa’s gaze shifted to you, “they kissed last night.”

hongjoong’s eyebrows fully shot up in surprise at seonghwa’s revelation, and his confusion deepened as he turned his gaze towards you. this added a whole new layer of complexities to the situation, "wait, what?" hongjoong’s voice held a mixture of shock and intrigue as he looked at you for confirmation. "you and wooyoung kissed?"

your cheeks flushed slightly at the question, but you nodded in confirmation. "yeah," you whispered softly, "it happened last night."

hongjoong’s gaze remained focused on you, his mind processing this and its potential significance. he took a deep breath, trying to navigate the situation. "how did it happen?" he asked softly

your gaze shifted downward as you gathered your thoughts, the memory of the moment playing out in your mind. "i... i was comforting him," you began, your voice soft and a hint of embarrassment in your tone. "we were in my room, and i was just reminding him that i’m here for him." you paused, taking a breath before continuing, "then... he asked if he could kiss me."

hongjoong listened intently as you recounted the events of the night before, his expression a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and concern. "he asked to kiss you?" he questioned softly, his eyebrow raised in surprise.

you nodded, your gaze still fixed on the floor. "yes," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. the memory of that moment was still vivid in your mind, the warmth of wooyoung’s touch and the intensity of his request lingering like a ghost.

your gaze flickered up to hongjoong as he spoke, the concern in his voice evident. hongjoong’s expression held a mixture of worry and sympathy, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored his words. "yn," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath, "i just don't want you getting hurt."

you swallowed hard, the weight of hongjoong’s words sinking deep within you. "i know," you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible above the thoughts swirling inside you. the raw vulnerability of the moment washed over you, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of warmth and fear at the depth of your connection. you knew that hongjoong was right to worry about you, and you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that things could go wrong, that you could end up getting hurt due to letting your love cloud your judgement.

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busines-as-unusual · 3 days

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˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 8 - The Goal I’m Dreaming Of ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

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The ringing in your ears was piercing, threatening to shred your mind. Seconds felt like hours. A chill raked your flesh. You willed your legs to move. Dread rooted your feet to the floor. Were you breathing? Your heartbeat was too strong, too fast. And Alastor…

He saw.

He heard.

He knew.

No no no no no no n

“Why are you here?” Your voice was distant, stripped of its usual bite.

Alastor slinked down the stairs, his footfalls deafening. You were a fly trapped in a web, watching the spider draw closer, ready to devour you with no remorse.

“I hadn’t the faintest idea you had such a violent streak,” he said. “So much rage in one woman. I'm almost mad that you've been hiding it from me.”

“Stop talking. Just— stop!”

He came to a halt at the bottom of the steps, less than ten feet away. Far too close.

“… you need to go.” You cringed at the sound of your voice, hoarse from crying. Shit! Your mascara streaked down your face from tears. Your hair a mess, your body filthy with drying blood and gore; you looked like a rabid animal.

It’s your fucking nightmare.

Alastor cocked his head, neck bent unnaturally. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! Get out!”

You grabbed the quarterstaff and hurled it at Alastor. He dissipated into shadows before it could hit him and reappeared right in front of you. You cried out and stumbled back, catching yourself before you could fall into the cadaver’s lap.

Turning from Alastor, you rubbed your arms; a futile attempt to self-soothe. “You shouldn’t be here. You can’t be here. Get out of my fucking house!”

You couldn’t do this. Not tonight. Not like this. Not at all. Not ever. Not with Alastor. You’d rather he bisect you alive and remove your beating heart. It'd be less painful.

Alastor swept around to your field of vision and pulled your arms apart. “You’re hurting yourself.” He was right. Angry raised lines formed over your skin, blood threatening to break the surface.

“Let go of me!” You wrenched away from his grasp, nearly toppling again. You ran fingers through your messy hair, stray strands pulling free. “Why are you in my face every goddamn second?!”

He replied with a widening smile. His stupid fucking goddamn smile! Didn’t his face ever cramp? He looked downright giddy, like a child at a carnival. He was a wolf ready to devour a rabbit, playing with it before it died.

Rage bubbled from your chest to your throat in a snarl. “I’m not here to entertain you! This wasn’t a ‘performance’. I’m not putting on a show. None of this—” you waved wildly at the corpse, “was for you! You think just because I—”

You shut your mouth fast enough to make your teeth clack. Alastor’s eyes widened in… excitement? Like he anticipated something he’d been dying for. You felt like his performing monkey.

Your whole body flushed with heat; anger and humiliation writhing inside you. “I’m really glad this is a biiiiig joke to you!”

Smile narrowing, his brow wrinkled with displeasure. “You’re putting words in my mouth. I never implied I found this humorous. I don’t.”

Your jaw worked as you chewed on your rebuttal. For some reason, you believed him. Despite how he enjoyed watching you fall apart, he didn’t find joy in learning why you did so. Despite him being a sociopathic sadist who loved witnessing the dysfunction of others, he had some standards.

(A low standard to be sure, but you were in Hell, after all. The bar was so low it wasn’t even considered a tripping hazard.)

Tears burned in your eyes. You blinked them away. Deep breath. You swallowed hard. “…I am not some helpless, pitiful fucking victim, okay?” You spat the word out in disgust like one might a slur.

“My dear—”

“I’m not broken, or-or damaged, or sad, so don’t—”

“Temerity.”

Alastor’s voice dropped an octave as his tone turned serious. Your hammering heart stopped on a dime, and you were shocked you didn't keel over into a second death right there.

He towered over you, but not in his usual intimidating way. Instead, it felt almost… sheltering? “The last thing I see now is a pitiful victim.” He turned your chin so you looked him dead in his crimson eyes. “Congratulations, my dear, on a job well done.”

You moved to take your chin from his grasp, but he grabbed the side of your face and, with a gentleness you never dreamed he’d possessed, guided you to recapture you in his gaze.

“Let go…” you muttered but made no attempt to move. Instead, you chased the warmth of his palm with your cheek. “Alastor, you—! Goddamn you…”

Tears flowed freely from your eyes, spilling into the space where his skin met yours. You heaved a heavy sigh that rattled your ribcage. Eyes shut, you silently cried. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Alastor as he ‘held’ you like this. Whatever you found in his eyes, be it rapture or ruth, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. Still, you drank in the small amount of comfort he afforded you. This would be the closest you’d get to a hug from him.

Alastor brushed a tear away with a swipe of his thumb, smearing blood and makeup across your cheek. “Now then! No more tears. You still have unfinished business to attend to.”

Oh right. Him.

You lingered in the moment for a second. Two. Finally, you opened your eyes to look at the body and then, with effort, back to Alastor. “Help me bury the bastard?”

He fixed you with a sharp toothed grin and bowed his head to you. “Why, it would be my pleasure.”

To no one’s surprise, disposing of a corpse was easier with help. Alastor offered to use his powers to speed up your work, but you insisted on doing it the old-fashioned way. It was part of the healing process, and he was inclined to indulge you.

Soft jazz from his cane filled in the silence between you two as you dug the hole; the musky scent of hellish earth filling your nose. The distant sounds of a gunslinging turf fight turned to white noise. Occasionally, Alastor would chime in with a comment or joke, and you’d laugh or respond before lapsing back into the silence.

By the time you shoveled the final scoop of dirt over him, you were covered by a thin layer of sweat. As predicted, Alastor looked pristine as always. Again, unfair.

You tossed the shovel aside, and Alastor’s disappeared in a poof of green magic. Already, grass and yellow flowers from the other four plots spread and grew along the edges. Soon the whole yard would be uniform, leaving no physical reminders of the bodies underneath. Like they never existed.

Alastor dusted himself off and readjusted his bowtie. “Should we perhaps say a few words?”

The glint in his eyes told you he meant it in jest. You laughed dryly.

“What an honor it was to be a part of this. I can’t think of a better man for this to happen to.”

Alastor laughed. He reached out toward you before you could flinch. His clawed fingers threaded through your hair and he pulled away a pink lump of something; a small bit of brain. He popped it in his mouth like a piece of chocolate.

You swear, this man and his sexy cannibalism…

You looked away and stretched. “I need a drink! Feel free to do what you please, you always do anyway.”

Alastor followed you inside. Thankfully, he couldn’t see your smile.

You led him to your claret-colored parlor, a room you were quite proud of for its sundry uses. Whether you hosted supper club parties or smaller get togethers, it was a wonderful room for conversing, mingling, and even performing. The mini bar and piano near the corner were an excellent addition. Conversely, it was also the perfect room to read in or listen to music while lounging on the plush chaise.

You gestured for Alastor to make himself comfortable. He did so, sitting down in one of your cozy parlor chairs and resting his microphone against the side.

“Usually after a night like this,” you said, making your way to the bar, “I go swimming in alcohol with Mimzy, maybe go on the hunt for a good shag, buuuuut!” You twisted the cork off a bottle of gin with a pop! “Considering a certain unwanted guest, I’ll make a slight change to my plans. What’s your poison?”

You knew the answer before he said, “Rye if you have it. Two fingers.”

You hummed in assent, chuckling under your breath immaturely at his use of words. You fixed his drink along with yours— a gin rickey— and handed it to him before sitting opposite him.

The gin rickey went down easy and you relaxed as you enjoyed the tart drink. Refreshing. Eventually, when the silence was broken, you were the one to do it. “Do I want to know why exactly you're spying on me, Alastor?”

“Well, my dear, you left in such a rush today, anyone would be curious.” He coolly sipped his rye.

“So it’s not just Vox I have to worry about, huh?”

You shrugged, ignoring his bitter look he gave you over his glass. He could be pissy all he wanted, no one asked him to be here.

Even if you’re glad he was.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed the show.” You took a final gulp of healing alcohol. “That was my swan song of vengeance.”

“How disappointing.”

“For you.”

Drink now empty, you stood to grab another. You stopped by your record player, dropping the needle somewhere in the middle of a jazzy instrumental.

You placed the empty glass at the bar when Alastor's hand came down on the counter beside you. You froze. He wasn’t directly behind you, he wasn’t even touching you, but did you ever feel him. His mere presence weighed heavy behind you, pushing you closer to the bar. You were sure Alastor could see you biting your lip in the reflection of the waxed wooden counter.

“Now now, dear.” He slid his empty glass onto the counter with his other hand, momentarily caging you in. “Before you get too inebriated, I do want to inquire about these other revenge tours of yours, as it were. Now, will you tell me the truth or do I have to take advantage of our deal?”

Your brain worked at half speed. First things first, you needed to create space between the two of you.

You propped your elbows on the counter and rested your chin on laced fingers. Alastor subtly shifted back to accommodate your new position. Good.

“I’m never one to be taken advantage of, well unless I let a gentleman do the taking.”

With a disgruntled noise, he backed away. You grinned and twirled behind the bar, taking pleasure in his tight smile and grimaced brow.

You took a big swig of gin from the bottle. It was the strong stuff— Hell knows you needed it— and shuddered at the taste . “Screw it, I’ll tell you the truth. You know the worst of it already.” You busied yourself with washing Alastor’s glass, preferring to be partially distracted.

“Honestly, there’s not much to tell,” you said, eyes fixed on your moving hands. “Tonight was a repeat of the other four bastards I took care of.

“With the first two… I got lucky. They died together in some car accident and I found out through the grapevine.” The grapevine, in this instance, were the informants who worked for you scattered around the city. “Seducing them was… disgustingly easy. They didn’t recognize me, of course.”

Another big gulp of gin. You weren't going to have any left at this rate. Good.

“By the time I was ready for the third, I.M.P was up and running. Getting him down here was easy, but killing him was another matter. Long story short: He escaped. I chased him down. I got him with the angelic steel garrote I use as underwire in my brassieres."

All at once Alastor managed to look both impressed and uncomfortable. The disjointed reaction had you howling with laughter.

“Don’t look so disgusted! A lady needs support… and easy access to multiple melee weapons.”

“And the fourth one?” Alastor rushed out, eager to move on from the discussion of your undergarments. “As I recall, those little imps implied he went to heaven?”

“That was the idea at first. He went and became a man of the cloth. Can you believe that?”

“I do, unfortunately.”

You shook your head and muttered, “Load of bollocks, is what that is.” You grimaced, your old accent slipping through as it did when you drank too much. “Fortunately, in my case, the feathered schmucks upstairs didn’t buy it either.”

You took a final sip from the bottle as the record came to a soft end. Your head buzzed pleasantly; you floated an inch of the ground, lighter than air. Alastor continued to watch you and you did the same. Cheek in palm, elbow on the counter, you drank him in as greedily as you did the gin. “Sastified?”

Alastor chuckled, low under his breath. “For now.”

An exaggerated huff, you made a show of rolling your eyes. You pointed a finger at him. “You’re such a nosey Nelly, you know that? Who gave you the right?”

“I’m a radio host, dear. Staying in the know is a part of my profession.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

You baltered over to the piano and sat at the wide bench. Fingers pattered along the keys. A horrible idea popped into your head and you didn’t fight against it. “Tell me if you recognize this.”

Your fingers drifted along the keys, playing a song for Alastor you'd only have the courage to do when zozzled out of your gourd. The piece was golden candy for the ears, the soundtrack to a pair walking through Central Park on a beautiful day.

You came to the end and faced Alastor, who'd crept to stand behind you while your back was turned.

“I didn’t know you were one to tickle the ivories,” he said, a note of intrigue in his voice.

Pride swelled in your chest. You grinned like a dummy. “Well, I don’t have it here as a paper weight.”

He sat beside you, elbow grazing yours, and walked his slender fingers across the keys. “George Gershwin, ‘I've Got a Crush on You.’ I'm quite familiar.”

“Hopefully not from the musical. I saw it on opening day and found it dreadfully whelming. But that Gershwin? Oh!” You placed a hand on your heart. “I bet you he’s in heaven.”

“You think so?”

“If he’s down here I would’ve nabbed him by now, along with Cole Porter and— Oh!” You clapped. “Here’s a song I know you don’t know!”

Unlike the gentleness of the first song, your fingers flew across the keys with vigor. A sly smirk spread across your face when Alastor leaned back slightly in surprise. ‘Mess Around’ by Ray Charles was decades after both of your times, but you made it your mission to stay up to date with music, even if you preferred the classics of your time.

To your shock, Alastor seemed to be the same way. Without warning, the song suddenly became a duet as he took half the song to play himself. You faltered, but only for half a second. His cocky grin fueled you, spurring you on to play better.

The two of you played together, the moment of synchronicity filling you with elation. It drew to the end when Alastor stole the song, making a show of sliding down the keys with a final touch of a note.

Wild giggles bubbled from the bottom of your lungs. You wiped away a tear. “Alastor! You’ve been holding out on me. If you did that every time you invited yourself over, I wouldn’t mind as much.”

“Doll, I was under the impression you quite liked my company.”

“Oh, I love your company, but you need to learn how to knock. Otherwise, I might take Vox up on that offer for discounted security.”

Immediately, the mood soured. Alastor turned slowly to stare you down, the static effect in his voice stronger when he asked, “And why, pray tell, did he offer you that?”

A dismissive wave of your hand. “Oh, you know. That’s how they all go down. People like Vox use gifts as a tactic to make you more agreeable down the line. I took the phone because he kept insisting.”

Alastor gave you a questioning look. You threw your hands up.

“He wore me down! The man’s persistent. At least you come by it honestly. Well, sometimes. Only an absolute fool would trust you absolutely.”

“Are you implying you don’t trust me?”

A complicated answer you had no hope of answering late at night and drunk. Instead, you riffed on the keys and chuckled under your breath.

He pivoted the conversation back. “What else went on with you and Vox?”

“I had to agree to be his dumb date to some dumb fashion show. Actually, it’s not that dumb. It’s actually pretty lavish, I’ve seen it on TV before and I’ve heard that—”

“Do you not see how foolish this is?” he asked rhetorically, as if he were addressing a child. “Vox is not someone you want to be indebted to.”

“Oh, and you are?”

The lights flickered above you. Alastor brow tweaked in annoyance. “You quite readily accepted my deal for someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“Who’s putting words in whose mouth, now?”

The words were out before you realized. Alastor gave no outward indication that you’d admitted to trusting him. You were no absolute fool, but you were a fool nonetheless. You knew Alastor wouldn’t use information on you to hurt you physically or humiliate you in a public way. Not that he wasn’t cruel, but doing so wouldn’t serve him practically. But he had the power to destroy you <i>emotionally</i>. You knew, he knew, and you handed that power to him on a silver platter. Like a fool.

You might as well have served him your heart for the feasting.

“A-anyway, don't you worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can handle Vox.”

A laugh. “Quite easily, I’m sure.”

Alastor stayed with you longer than you’d expected he would. You talked and laughed and drank, often goading the other to guess the name of the tune you’d play on the piano.

This was leagues ahead of how you normally spent your time after a night like this. You always enjoyed time with Alastor, but you never had such casual fun with him.

At one point he convinced you to sing the lyrics if you could recognize the song. You did, singing along to the melody before you quit, laughing off the embarrassment.

“The poor dear,” Alastor said. “If only she could sing as well as she danced.”

“Oh, stuff it!” But you laughed.

The alcohol was a problem. With enough liquid courage in you, you leaned into the Radio Demon, head against his shoulder. Everything in you told you to pull away, but you were too content. He felt too good.

Alastor noticeably tensed but made no move to remove you or push you away. Slowly, he relaxed, silently accepting your touch. Another victory.

“Alastor?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re an ass.”

He hummed in mild annoyance, returning his attention to the piano. Soft melody, light and comforting. “Enjoy that one, my dear, because I won’t let you get away with that again.”

To say that Alastor was in awe of you would be an understatement.

Of all the sides he’d gotten to see of you— your charm, your wit, your hilarious indignation— this might be his favorite.

More than your anger, it was your zeal. You carried fervor with you in everything you did. It was rather endearing.

However, Alastor was more than pleased to confirm he was right about your rage; your impassioned display of righteous violence was positively decadent. He practically salivated as he watched you work, the entire scene unfolded before him like the petals of a rose; bright red and beautiful. Currents of excitement shot up his spine like electricity, a feeling that was both familiar and unfamiliar to him.

Then to watch you unravel again once he announced his presence? He could hardly contain his excitement. You were vulnerable. Vulnerable, unhinged, and at his mercy. Emotionally helpless. Alastor finally had you right where he wanted you. You could no longer save face. He saw you, raw and unfiltered, your mask shattered beyond repair.

Alastor took no pleasure seeing you relive your trauma— he was a great many things, but he wasn’t that kind of monster! However, seeing you panic like caught prey when you saw him, post revenge? That he cherished.

How you snapped and screamed at him? How you cried? How his mere presence left you in hysterics? Positively entertaining.

How you were adamant that he shouldn’t see you in a lesser light? That he recalled with distaste, but not for you. It was almost laughable, the idea that faceless, degenerate scum could ever sully his vision of you.

And were you ever a vision.

Splattered in blood, flecked with organs and bones, you glowed in the light of heaven. You were radiant, a spirit of retribution avenging yourself sevenfold.

Alcohol made you ever more transparent in your affections. The song you played for him was practically a nonverbal confession. Still you held your tongue, refusing to outright admit to anything. You had slipped up once, and oh! Was he eager to see the look on your face when you did and…

If you confessed your attraction to Alastor, he’d assuredly turned you down. Of course he would. Not out of cruelty, but simply a lack of interest in such affairs. Unfortunately in his experience, rejecting one’s advances was the death of a relationship.

Alastor hoped you had better control of your attraction to him than… others he dealt with. He wasn’t quite ready to end things with you. If he were truthful with himself, he’d say he’d never be inclined to end things with you. You’d grown on him too thoroughly to cut you off and remain unharmed. Good company was rather hard for him to find in Hell. To cast it away would be foolish.

Besides, he had an unfinished deal with you, and he had zero intentions of letting it go to waste.

A/N: If you can name all the references, we’re best friends for life <3

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#alastor x oc #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #hazbin x oc #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #reader #reader fic #reader insert #alastor fanfiction #alastor x y/n #alastor

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sapphic-agent · 2 days

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Is Mitsuki Bakugou Abusive?

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I mean, you all already know my answer. I've spoken about this before. But some Bakugou stans feel the need to turn everyone who doesn't worship the ground Bakugou walks on into the devil, so let's talk about it.

(Yes, I just got into an argument with one of said stans. Yes, I'm salty about it)

The conclusions people draw from this scene are so interesting. Bakugou stans are of course always up in arms about it. But as we know, they have zero media literacy. So let's examine the facts:

1. Mitsuki is smiling the first time she "hits" Bakugou. Her demeanor is playful if anything, and it's clear her intention is not to hurt him. She isn't even angry at or scolding him.

2. Bakugou's immediate response is anger. He isn't afraid or in pain. He's not afraid to stand up to her. Now, I don't mean to generalize abuse victims, but I'm assuming a child who's "beaten regularly" (this particular stan's exact words, despite there being zero evidence for it) usually wouldn't boldly threaten to kill their abusive parent. In his mind, she isn't a legitimate threat to his safety, or else he wouldn't feel so comfortable speaking to her like that.

3. It's only when Bakugou literally threatens her with violence that Mitsuki gets harsh with him. And understandably so. My mother has never hurt me in my life and I wouldn't dare speak to her that way no matter how angry I was. There is a little more force put into this snack, but even then it's not meant to actually hurt him. It's also interesting that none of his stans feel it necessary to criticize Bakugou's threat and immediately harp on her response to it.

4. He continues arguing with her after the hit. So the smack didn't seem to deter him at all. Almost like he's completely unfazed by the thought of her hitting him again.

5. Aizawa and All Might don't speak up about it at all. If Aizawa is really such a protective teacher, you think he'd let so-called abuse go on in front of his face?

6. Masaru isn't afraid to speak up against her. People assume that he rolls over and lets Mitsuki abuse Bakugou, but clearly he doesn't if he's fine intervening when he feels either one of them is out of line. He's calm, but he clearly isn't as passive as the fandom makes him out to be.

7. Mitsuki actually shows concern for him and wants him to improve. She's actively supporting him and believing in him. It's so funny how this part of this scene is completely overlooked. Almost like Bakugou stans cherry pick whichever aspects of her fit their narrative.

Now, am I saying that there's zero chance a parent like Mitsuki is abusive? No, of course not. But Bakugou is fictional. What we're being shown is meant to be the entire picture. Anything past what we've been given is purely fanon. Mitsuki "regularly abusing and beating" Bakugou isn't canon and cannot be used to defend his character

#anti bakugou katsuki #anti bakugou stans #mitsuki bakugou #tw child abuse #mentions of child abuse

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deliciousdefendorinternet · 1 day

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FR tho how long after the main films events was that ending scene meant to take place? because the Bros really do just act like their suddenly the ideal family its kinda disturbing tbh 😕😕

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these guys were ripping chunks out of each other with seething hatred only a few scenes prior to this one and none of the previous scenes actually had any meaningful development that would explain this level of love suddenly being between them

like did they all just get stoned off screen and that's why their all so happy now? 😂😂😂😂

the scene really does seem like it should take place like 5 years in the future or something after they've had all this meaningful development with each other and ya know actually bonded a bit.

at the moment tho these guys barely know each other 20+ years is most of their lives and all of Branch's life pretty much.

so Floyd saying that he likes the new them just feels kinda tone deaf like Floyd can you name one thing about any of the people around you that you know for a 100 percent fact is still true of them in present day and isn't just something your remembering from when you were kids?

I really hope the writers don't think they did all the development they needed to do and that Brozone are just fully fleshed out characters now.

because they ain't frankly they didn't even have the Bare minimum development their on the same level as cloud guy in the tv shows just massive jerks who didn't get any comeuppance in the end.

they still need to go a long way with these characters for them to not be toxic frankly.

personally I'm kinda Hoping in the future we see them make an effort in some way like maybe due to the age gap between them Branch feels somewhat left out in the family.

like the older bros all talk and fondly remember all these events from when they were younger from before Branch was born and they all laugh and get along easily pretty much picking up from where they left off.

and Branch slowly starts to feel awkward trying to laugh along with the rest of the bros but feeling kinda down since he keeps on not knowing about any of the things they are referring to.

and overall just not knowing even basic things about them that they still remember about each other like maybe he asks Floyd about them going for a ride on those hover bike things.

only for the other bros to remind him that Floyd's always been deathly afraid of Hight's.

and Branch cooks a special meal for everyone as a surprise only for one of the bros to be allergic to something he used in the meal which is pointed out by the others.

and Branch just well and truly feels like the odd man out in the family and his bros do notice this and actually make more of an effort for him to feel included.

maybe bringing up some memories from when he was a baby that he'd actually remember and taking more of an interest in his current interests.

that's one idea and I'd actually like to see something involving their Grandma as well that doesn't involve her being made into a comedic punchline 😞😞

like maybe the bros go to hang out with Branch only to find him hold up in his Bunker with worse off colours and he eventually tells them its the anniversary of her death. and despite the Bros wanting to help or just spend the day with him he tells them he'll just deal with it on his own like he's always done.

as its just what he's used to but after talking the Bros do come back more determined to help.

and they try various typical Troll things to try and cheer him up only for it to obviously backfire and result in Branch just getting angry with them and being more determined to just deal with it on his own.

but eventually the Brothers do figure out how to be there for him maybe they just hang around the outside of the Bunker and all share their own fond memories about Grandma and the things they miss about her. while not necessarily trying to cheer him up or anything but just being there like they never were before.

which does get Branch to open the Bunker and let them inside so they can all just get through that day together.

just a couple of ideas I just wanna see Brozone redeeming themselves by actually working and making an effort to be more supportive in the future ya know?

the fandom loves doing short fics and art of them just behaving like normal siblings light heartedly teasing Branch and whatnot but honestly those ideas kinda bug me as.

their not normal siblings frankly they will never be normal siblings way too much happened for them to ever be that and in Branch's case they missed out on the most important years of his life that form who a person is. their never going to be able to just come back from that entirely to the point they have the same sorta relationship that you do with your siblings who you've most likely known your whole life and in most cases have grown up with. yes large age gaps exist with siblings and in some cases you can not discover you have a sibling until later in life but those relationships are frankly a whole different area. 2. leaving aside the fact that the Brothers simply haven't earned the right to act like that towards Branch or even each other. there's also the fact that literally one of the main conflicts in the third film was them not respecting Branch as a person aka behaving in childish manners towards him. childishly teasing him and not respecting basic human boundaries. so the fandom doing all these cutesy arts of them behaving the same way towards him is actually kinda ironic given its ignoring one of the points of the film. basically what I'm saying is the fandom is really jumping the gun with Brozone imo. sorta like how everyone got annoyed when that TBGO episode had Creek come back and be instantly given another chance and accepted back into the village. despite no real effort on his part its the same with Brozone both with how their Treated in the film and how their Treated by most of the fandom. I just wanna see some actual meaningful development and effort way way before we see them playing happy families and partaking in comedic gags with each other and whatnot. we should still have a long way to go before we're even close to seeing that sorta stuff. anyway Rant over I guess thanks for reading 😅😅😅😅😅😅

#trolls #trolls branch #dreamworks trolls #trolls brozone #trolls band together #branch trolls #branch #trolls dreamworks #brozone #trolls 3 #Trolls #Trolls Branch #Youtube

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paradoxcase · 2 days

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Gideon the Ninth audiobook, rest of Part 1

One thing you can say for audiobooks, they go faster, especially since I'm not essentially reading everything twice now. But I don't feel like I would retain it in the same way I do when I read visually, if this were the first time through

I am getting used to the pronunciation of "Nonagesimus", as expected

More voices:

Teacher is not at all what I expected, I expected more disconcerting jollity and less creaky old person voice. The nonbinary priest I expected to be more creaky, but their voice is not creaky at all

Cytherea's voice is basically exactly what I imagined, though

Also, Teacher's pronunciation of "Naberius" doesn't match the pronunciation guide here, or the pronunciation in the Dramatis Personae, which is odd

More stuff I noticed:

Aiglamene said, when looking for a sword: "I'm looking for a blade in the style of [Ortus's] great-grandmother's." Is this the great-grandmother who owned Nonius's sword that Ortus was talking about with Abigail in Harrow the Ninth?

Gideon asks "How are you going to get Ortus back, anyway?" and Harrow has a moment where she reacts to that - originally I though this was just reluctance to break it to Gideon that she was replacing him, but I now I think it's that they have gotten the news that the shuttle exploded

Gideon makes a joke that by being Harrow's cavalier she would be responsible for aiding "Harrowhark Nonagesimus's fascist rise to power." But what historical reference does she actually have for fascist rises to power? Nobody remembers WWII anymore. Arguably the only fascist rise to power they have a reference for is John's if you want to label him that way, and certainly none of them objected to that (or, I think, even have much information about it). I don't think this universe has the historical and political depth for a character to be making a joke like this

Aiglamene tells Harrow that if she doesn't free Gideon after attaining Lyctorhood, she would consider it a betrayal, because she's trying to secure freedom for Gideon in order to get her to go along with the plan to go to Canaan House with Harrow. I think this goes a long way to explain why Aiglamene is very angry at Harrow at the end of Nona when she finds out that Gideon died

Harrow says "we're not becoming an appendix of the Third or Fifth House" when talking about why it's important to not reveal the state of the Ninth to anyone. I missed this the first time through, but it's making more sense to me now why Harrow didn't want outside help

Harrow says "I'll mix bonemeal in with your breakfast and punch my way through your gut" which I have seen other people comment on, although I can't remember if I ever said anything about it myself. But my thought is that the reason Harrow was able to conceive of and execute the soup assassination while incredibly sleep deprived was that she had already worked out and finalized the whole plan back on the Ninth when she was coming up with ways to torment Gideon. It was probably just lucky that that plan also turned out to be effective against a Lyctor

I know the sunglasses are mostly a meme, but I'm wondering now why there were sunglasses on Pluto for Gideon to find. That seems like the last place in the universe for there to be sunglasses

The description of Teacher's belt doesn't really resemble the friendship bracelets, I don't think, although it is described as being rainbow colored

The narration says "her legs ran as swiftly as her awful judgement" when Gideon is running to rescue Cytherea, which seems a bit like foreshadowing, since I think on the first readthrough the reader doesn't have a reason to find fault with her judgement here

#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth

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mslanna · 15 hours

Note

Here is a Raphael x Tav prompt for you:

"I thought you died, you bastard!"

As you wish, Nonny. As you wish. 😊

they/them Tav without body configuration sfw, slightly spicy towards the end read it on AO3

Death and What Comes After

"I thought you were dead, you bastard!" Tav stomped through the Devil's Den with angry strides, crossing the short distance quickly. "You hear me? Dead! I thought you were fucking DEAD!" Their voice rose in cadence and volume with every word uttered.

Without thinking, Tav had grabbed the front of Raphael's doublet. They shook the devil who allowed it with a slight frown.

"Yes," he finally drawled, taking Tav's hands and stopping them short with a strong grip. "That was the idea."

The words froze Tav on the spot. Their hands hung limp in his hold and all tension seeped out of them. Tav shook their head slowly while their shoulders slumped.

It took Raphael a moment to realise they muttered under their breath so quietly it almost escaped even his infernal ears. No. Tav repeated it over and over like an incantation. He let go of their hands that dropped to Tav's sides like stones and turned to pour a generous shot of whisky.

"Here." He held the tumbler out to the mortal. "Maybe that will help."

Tav sniffed the glass suspiciously. It smelled of strong alcohol. How was that supposed to help? On the other hand, did it even matter? Unblinking they gulped down its contents. A mistake but one they would not show. Tav's throat burned like fire. It sure distracted them from the unbridled rage that had carried them here.

"Better?" The devil's condescending tone fanned Tav's fire.

"Not. One. Bit." They bit out. "I left you alive you son of a bitch! I made sure you'd get out. And you-" Tav broke off. Spelled out loud, their reasoning showed subtle flaws. They held out the tumbler again and Raphael refilled it silently.

This time Tav took it a little slower. The pain trickling down their throat was an excellent distraction from the thoughts that lined up neatly in their brain. It was possible that Raphael had not discerned their reasoning. But did he really believe they'd ever make a deal with a devil? Even if it was not for their soul. It was a slippery slope. Tav held out the glass again.

"I think you had enough for now." Raphael set the bottle back down on the sideboard. When Tav made a lunge for it, he stopped them as easily as he had held their hands prisoner. In his human for the devil was a lot stronger than he looked.

"None of that now," he tutted. "Regain your manners and maybe we can discuss another shot."

Tav stared into their empty glass. The fire had moved from throat and stomach into their whole body. It merged nicely with the anger already bubbling there. "Thought you were dead," they mumbled again.

"I thought you were DEAD!" It's a scream this time and with the last word, Tav hurtled the glass at Raphael's head.

The missile popped out of existence just before it reached the devil and Tav looked around for something else to throw. When there was nothing, they threw themself instead. With fist flying they went at the devil.

Raphael caught them easily. The alcohol made Tav sloppy and their arms lolled about in the devil's grip as they writhed to free themself.

"Whatever are you trying to achieve?" His patience was running thin. This mortal had seemed like a good investment, right up until they refused his deal and stole the Orphic Hammer.

That Tav let him live would be their last mistake. But it would be a slow process. A delicacy to draw out over decades. Sweet suffering that tormented Tav until they'd crawl to his door to beg for a deal. A deal he would refuse. A smile stole to his lips. As tempting as it was to destroy them here and now, revenge was best served as a prolonged buffet.

"Revenge?" Tav snapped. "I let you live. I get that bloody, stupid, gods-damned, heavy ass crown that's rotti-"

"You what?" Raphael clapped a hand over the blabbering mouth. The crown was lost when the Elderbrain was defeated. It had vanished and his best efforts had been unable to discover it. He had had his money on Mystra and that wizard, but neither had a trace of it. He lowered his glare back to Tav. The mortal stared at him with big eyes, mouth very still under his palm.

He removed his hand slowly. "You have the Crown of Karsus?"

"'f course," Tav mumbled and cast their eyes down, away from his hot gaze. "Defeated the stupid brain thing and there it was y'know. All shiny and – well, wet because I had to fish it up from the Chionthar, yes?"

"You did not give it to your wizard?" Raphael was proud how little of his strain showed through his voice. Though Tav might have been to inebriated to notice.

"Gale?" Tav lauched. "Hells no! I'd never! Gods are horrible things and Gales is my friend. I'd never wish such a fate on him. He's happy now."

Silence fell and Raphael counted the beats of his heart by the blood roaring in his ears. "And?" he finally prompted.

"And what?" Tav blinked, their eyes slightly glazed.

He should not have allowed them a second whisky. Raphael sighed inwardly. "You fished the crown out of the river and then?" Raphael asked as gently as his impatience allowed.

"Oh. I put is under the sink. Nobody ever looks under the sink except they want to clean. Nobody wants to clean my place. Not even me. So-"

Raphael clamped his hand back over Tav's mouth. He was this close. Not only to the crown but also to strangling the infuriating mortal. Under their sink. All this time he had hunted for the crown in every corner of the material planes and the hells. While it sat idly and unprotected in Tav's home.

"And you did not seek me out-"

"Because I thought you were dead you bastard!" Tav bit free from his grasp. "You bloody, fucking rat bastard!" They hiccuped on the last words, swallowing hard and looking away.

Still Raphael caught the glitter of water in their eyes. Not just anger. Grief? Relief? He took a step back and looked Tav over. Their anger seemed once more to simmer under the surface. Yet Tav breathed hard and sniffled to themself.

"You did not rejoice in my death then."

"If I would have rejoiced, I wouldn't have let you live," Tav snuffled. "Didn't want you dead. Don't want you dead. Glad you're alive." Their eyes flickered uncertain and came to rest on the bottle of whisky.

"You – grieved?" Raphael asked, taking the whisky for safekeeping.

"Yeh." Tav didn't look away from the amber liquid sloshing inside the bottle. "Rat bastard weren't even dead."

The wheels in Raphael's mind turned ferociously. Most plans of revenge crumbled before Tav's confessions. They had the Crown of Karsus. Kept it safe. Grieved his death. What a strange and wonderful combination. He swung the whisky slowly.

"I suppose I apologise for showing you images of my death in Helsik's shop." He held out his free hand and the vanished tumbler dropped into it. "If you forgive me for not being dead."

Tav narrowed their eyes. Those things were not the same. Still. Raphael was not dead. And he probably still wanted the Crown of Karsus so maybe they'd meet again. He didn't strike them as somebody who rummaged through other peoples' sinks unbidden.

"Okay," they finally said. "Deal."

Raphael tilted his head. "Now you deal?"

Tav snorted. "Figure of speech."

"Never with a devil." He stepped towards Tav who took a step backwards. "We are very orderly beings. A deal is a deal and needs a seal."

Tav stepped back further as he approached. "Handshake?" they offered.

"I have a much better plan."

Tav came up against one of the couches scattered about.

"Have a seat."

They dropped, not that there was anywhere else to go. Unthinking they accepted the tumbler and Raphael filled it again.

"A toast. To a good future collaboration." Raphael smiled like a knife and it was as reassuring as looking down the business end of one.

Still Tav nodded. "Your glass?"

"I prefer my liquor served in a quivering bellybutton," the devil replied and knelt before Tav. He pried their knees apart slowly and carefully raised their shirt until Tav's stomach was exposed. "If you don't mind."

Tav closed their eyes. They had come with very different intentions. Though they never had thought about what they'd do once they got their hands on the devil. Time to find out.

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #anon answered #writing prompt #sleazy second-hand car dealer #mel writes fanfic #alcohol mention

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