Party For One

⑉ Party For One ⑉

│Vox x Idol! Reader│

𝚂̷𝚢̷𝚗̷𝚘̷𝚋̷𝚜̷𝚒̷𝚜̷: (Y/n) was once an overlord, dominating the music industry with their talent and the souls they captured along the way. Then Vox came into their life and stole their heart with his big dreams. Everything was great for the lovers at first, then Vox wanted to team up with other overlords for more power. Vox became obsessed over his work, and with also looking out for the other Vee's, (Y/n) begins to realize that maybe they were never part of Vox's plans. They decide that it is time to start again and leave Vox behind.

━━━━━━━━━━━﹒⪩⪨﹒━━━━━━━━━━━

〣Featured tracks〣

You Need Me Now? │Single Soon │ Party For One

═══════════════════════════

It's been centuries since (Y/n) felt what it was like to be in power. They remember fondly of the countless nights where flashing lights hung above them, sweat clinging to their skin as they danced with such grace, and the warm buzz that ignited as the adoring screams of Hell carried in their ears. Though they would never admit it, they miss the opportunities of meeting sinners envious of their fame, only to take such demons under their wing, and mold them into their own image. What a perfect world they had created.

There was a time back then, where they did wish to slow down. The life as an idol is one of constant movement. You always had to be on top of things, avidly working with other big names to get your own out there. Along with the rising pop stars that (Y/n) had contracts with, things got pretty cumbersome. They loved the work they did, and it wasn't that much different from the earthly realm, but they couldn't even still themself in death.

No one, however, caught (Y/n)'s interest much like Vox did. He rose quickly to fame himself, the technology equipped under his belt top-notch compared to what was used in Hell before. He consistently improved what needed to be worked on, and (Y/n) quickly realized that making a deal with him would benefit their institution tremendously. They got the privilege of meeting him in an overlord meeting; Though Carmilla was ambivalent to accept him as an overlord at first, with some persuasion from younger lords such as (Y/n), she reluctantly invited him.

It wasn't love at first sight like the rumors claimed it was, but there was an undeniable click between the TV man and the famous idol. They enjoyed each other's company more so than any other overlord would do for another; it was like they were tied at the hip at times. The understanding between them was silent yet profound, and they aided each other whenever needed. Both of them were powerful on their own, yet unstoppable together.

(Y/n) wasn't fully aware that they were in love until the moment Vox showed them a tour of his first establishment, a proud smirk and rascally delight flickering in bright colors across his monitor. It was that same moment too, that Vox turned to them and proposed that they stick by his side for the rest of their damnation. Vox was never clueless then on how they felt, and he offered protection and power as long as they felt comfortable being linked with his name. (Y/n) wanted so badly to settle down from their busy lifestyle, and with a ring on their finger uniting them to someone they held dearly, they decided to remain in Vox's shadow for decades to come.

Vox was never a poor lover to (Y/n), and the first few years will always be held with care in their heart. The honeymoon phase never lasts as long as people would like it too, however. With gaining power comes the burden of responsibility, and as Vox grew as an overlord, so did his need for more satisfaction. Vox had asked his lover their thoughts on alliances, and wanting to see their husband expand his influences, (Y/n) encouraged him to seek it out.

Soon enough, the Vee's were formed, and the company Vox built with (Y/n) became that of a fortress. The nooks and crannies that (Y/n) grew accustomed to expanded into long hallways, and the small foundation that held Vox's love for them began to brittle and decay. The other Vee's were nothing but white-collared towards (Y/n), as they too in way, helped the two find their pedestal among sinners. There was no connection like that with Vox though, and (Y/n) quickly began to feel lonesome in a promised life of luxury.

Vox became neglectful; choosing his work over them most days. (Y/n) knows that it didn't mean he didn't care, but the gifts presented in opulent wrapping and silk bows began to mean less than nothing to them as nights without their lover continued. They saw more of his business partners than him, and though they aided the three whenever they could, the overlords opted to keep their projects to themselves.

(Y/n) began to feel restless from the interminable stillness that became of their life, and the rejection they felt in their own home made them feel small. They tried to bring up these issues with Vox whenever he decided to be present, but there was always a carelessness in his actions. His mind never wandered far from work, even if his other half was with him. (Y/n) held out longer than they should have with the shell of a man they used to know, the pleasant reminiscence that they held tightly of him beginning to dull out like that of a dying light.

They began to remember the distant pleasure of their idol existence, which felt like a forgotten reality from the many years of isolation, when watching from Vox's balcony as the Vee's were rehearsing for a big convention coming up. The extravagant costumes, the bright fluorescents, even the skimpy dancing, it all hit (Y/n) in the most amazing way possible. Soon enough, they began to dream for a new life again. This time, however, Vox wasn't going to guide them so easily.

(Y/n) left without a word to their lover, only choosing to gift Vox one last thing garnished in a simple blue velvet box; the ring he gave to them. Word got out quickly as (Y/n) began to sign off new sinners for fame, the habits from all those years ago coming back as if they never stopped pursuing it. Though (Y/n) hadn't been in the spotlight for some time, and the music industry went through many changes since their fall, the encouragement of their re-found wanting pushed them to do the impossible. They found connection with overlords they had established relationships with from long ago, and finding the need to become empowered again, (Y/n) was expeditious in striking deals that would benefit this. Even though the Vee's had a big grasp on the media industry, it didn't stop (Y/n) from finding opportunities to outshine them.

Velvette and Valentino immediately took notice of the traction their compeer's former partner gained, and though they knew they should've confided in Vox on what his run-away lover was up to, they couldn't pass up their chances of ascendancy either. (Y/n) remained vigilant in keeping their distance from the three, however, they granted the two their attention for mere amusement, and made simple deals with them for the sake of efficiency in the industry. Velvette became one of their many designers while Valentino's stars were given permission to be taught under the idol.

Though (Y/n) kept up with Vee's, it was nothing but professionalism. They never took up too much time with them, only choosing to do so for work, and Vox never came into conversation. (Y/n) was sure that he was keeping an eye on them, his control of technology impossible to keep under the radar. It's not like they really tried to hide themself from him either. Every now and again, they think of him, but they try not to dwell on it too much. After all, if he really wanted them back or felt embarrassed by the whole situation, he would've shown it by now. He very well had the power to destroy them if he wanted to, cursing their name and all that they stood for. The pride in (Y/n) told them that it was their dedication and luck that brought them back to where they were before Vox, but a smaller part of them also wondered why it seemed too easy. Was it truly the influence they had in Hell or was something else behind the scenes at play? Perhaps they will never know.

═══════════════════════════

Would you like to get updated on this series? Join the Taglist: Here!

│Prologue│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: (Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

═══════════════════════════

A comfortable atmosphere bustles throughout the small diner as the sun barely begins to peek above the dazzling diversity of New Orleans. 'Leave A Little for Me' lulls about the establishment as the few patrons settled for their breakfast chat away about their own little worlds. The grill behind the counter sizzles and pops with use, an aroma of breakfast foods gnawing at any hungry stomachs that walk through the waxen double doors.

A woman, dressed in pale blush, walks out from the back with the swing of her hips and trays held skillfully above her pinned back hair. She settles plates in front of customers with a dashing smile, responding with polite and charming words as they thank her for the meal, before her gaze shifts towards a booth near the windows.

Another youthful lady settles there, a focused revelation upon their face as they lean over scattered papers on the table. The tip of a pen is wedged between their teeth, and they bite at it in thought. Swinging their leg over the other, an exasperated sigh escapes as they suddenly look up at the tin roof.

The waitress quickly strides over, coffee pot in hand. The woman lets her polished grin fall into a small smile, a gentle look in her eyes. Without a word of consent, she fills the ceramic mug long forgotten at the edge of the booth.

"Thanks, Ma." The lady, who's eyes remain upward, mutters gruffly.

"You look like you need it," the waitress chuckles, amusement crossing her expression as she watches her daughter guzzle from the steaming cup. "I will never understand how you can just drink it straight, (Y/n). You truly are an enigma."

"It helps me focus," (Y/n) states. "Especially when things don't make sense."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," (Y/n)'s mom assures, but frowns when she realizes her encouragement doesn't affect the distraught mood her child is faced with. She turns her head to the bar, noting that her co-worker was reading a magazine as the traffic coming through has died down, before setting herself across the table. "What is the matter, my sweet?"

"It was hard enough getting into the major I wanted, but now I have to worry about a suitable job too," (Y/n) grumbles.

"What happened with the secretory position at the bank?"

"Lack of experience... It's either that, or I have too big ideas for anyone's liking."

"You'll find something soon enough," the older woman persuades as she takes (Y/n)'s gloved hands into her calloused own. "The perfect job is bound to pop up before summer break comes."

"I hope your optimism comes into fruition," they say with a titter. They glance to the large clock tacked to the wall beside the island, before collecting their things with a stand. "I should head out before I'm late for class. Thank you for the coffee, ma."

"Don't forget that my first shift at Mimzy's is tonight!" Their mother calls, "It's gonna be a bit of a time crunch to get used to, so I would prefer it if you met me there after your extracurricular activities. I want to walk home with you."

"You don't have to be so paranoid," (Y/n) replies as they stand by the door. "After my studies, I'm going out with Joanne for a late lunch. I'll head over once we finish our gallivanting."

"You can never be too sure, dear. The news is heating up with all kinds of stories about that serial killer. I just want you to be safe!"

The bell above the entrance rings, a chiming announcement that a customer walked in. The cook desultorily straightens herself from her torpor, a curt welcome grousing from her lips.

"I'll see you later, Ma!" (Y/n) comments over their shoulder, but not before making brief eye contact with hickory brown. Round glasses, placed on the curvature of the man's sharp nose, reflects the gleam from the sun's light. He gestures his black-clothed hand to the entry he held open, a raffish grin on his face.

"After you, mademoiselle," He cheerfully asserts.

"Thank you," (Y/n) politely curtsies before rushing out into the streets of Louisiana.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Y/n)'s temple pulsates with an ache as they stir the soup in front of them with disinterest. The warmth of the spring now settled into an orange hue on their skin, drawing out the time until nightfall came. Tapping the toe of their heel against the Mandala patterned floor, their eyes gaze up at Joanne.

Joanne was a high-class type of girl, with distinguished parents and a father that ran a well-known Men's Club in town. Daffodil hair curled around her ears and tickled rosy cheeks as she ate away at her salad. Gorgeous blue peek up at (Y/n), and with a giggle, she hides her mouth with the black clothed napkin that was folded nicely by her plate.

All the eligible boys were swoon by her meek personality, always gifting her lavish things with money they earned. (Y/n) can always tell that she adores the attention, even when she claims that none of them strike her fancy. Sometimes, (Y/n) wishes their life can be as simple and carefree as Joanne's; that they can embrace their femineity instead of their intelligence. That is not how they were designed though.

"Have you changed your mind about the dance?" Joanne softly asks, pink tinted lips rising into a smile.

"No," (Y/n) responds after a long pause, "My mind has been on other things."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" She exclaims with puffed cheeks. "Why don't you go with Donald?"

"The guy who pulls my hair in history? No thanks."

"He just does that cause he likes you," Joanne laughs, "You two were meant for each other!"

"I don't see any of your suitors pulling your hair," (Y/n) gripes, "Don't tell me such stupid nonsense, Ann."

A look of hurt flashes across Joanne's face, and (Y/n) considers apologizing before she runs to tell her mother. It wouldn't be the first time (Y/n)'s pragmatism got them into trouble. Joanne's mother was a snooty woman and always tried to whip (Y/n) into their place in society since they were young. Since both Joanne and (Y/n)'s fathers worked on the road for the majority of their childhood, both of their mothers came together to help one another before Joanne's father found his passion for business. Though Joanne's family has long since moved from the quaint Neiborhood (Y/n) and their mother still resides in, Joanne always reaches out to 'catch up' with her friend since diapers.

"I'm worried for you," Joanne remarks in a dull tone as she leans back in her seat, "Your mom and I aren't always going to be there for you. Your mother shouldn't bear the responsibility of looking after you forever, and soon enough, I'm going to get married and have a family! You always talk so pessimistically about love; you never give anyone a chance! If you keep up with that attitude, you are going to end up alone!"

A screech emits from (Y/n)'s chair as they push away from the table. Abhorrence filters through every thought they wanted to say in that moment, a scowl present on their face. "And what if love is not something I'm aiming for? Have you ever thought about that?"

"And you think some silly dream is? You are a lady, (Y/n). Start acting like one," Joanne spits.

Thrusting their hand into their bag, (Y/n) throws down a few dollars on the tawny surface. "Pay my meal for me, would you? I've lost my appetite."

Swiftly pulling their coat over their shoulders, and without so much as another glimpse towards Joanne, (Y/n) stomps their way to the front. Judgmental leering warms the back of their head from the ongoing patrons they pass, with societal conjectures whispered among them. (Y/n) wishes they could declare that they were used to being seen as a freak, but the pang in their heart was hard to deny.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The buzzing of cicadas disturbs the thick despondency that hung over (Y/n) as they trudged their feet over the concrete pavement. Though yellow-hued streetlamps and distant sounds of laughter embraced the night with sweet carol, the weight of the day wore heavy on (Y/n)'s shoulders. The keister that they wore on their side swung limply as hot air blew past, and the sweat that collected on their forehead felt consciously sticky.

In a fit of frustration, (Y/n) didn't think to take a trolley over to Mimzy's. They were so engrossed by Joanne's behavior, needing time to collect their thoughts. Granted, (Y/n) did comprehend that their tongue could be snippy without second thought, but did that give their friend the right to dismiss all that they've worked for?

Ever since (Y/n) was young, they perceived that their way of thinking was far different from the others their age. While the adolescent girls that they grew with obsessed over dolls and new dresses, (Y/n) found the extortionary power of the mind. Every day, whether it would be tuning in on the latest news of horrific disasters on the radio or reading recent articles of crimes that happened within their very own city, they would journal each observation and theory that came about their wit.

(Y/n)'s mother was always a benign supporter, providing perception in their once childish dreams. Though their mother never castigates them now for pursuing what some may see as impossible, an underlying fraught tone catches in the optimism she provides.

"Why don't you become an author?" (Y/n)'s mother once persuaded as they sat to eat breakfast together one early morning, "Or a teacher! I'm sure you can put your journalism skills to use in those professions!"

(Y/n) knows their mom means well; She was the only person (Y/n) could openly talk to, and she would listen without conviction towards any words that spewed from their dreamy wonder. However, their mother did not understand the consistent resilience that they fought with every day, that it wasn't some phase that will burn out with age. (Y/n) knows what they want; they just wish sometimes that another being would appreciate that too.

A sigh of relief escapes (Y/n) as the establishment's spendthrift sign comes into view as they round the corner. The word Mimzy flickers with life, but there was no cars or pedestrians that showed if it was so. Though (Y/n) has never experienced what goes on within this club, their mother remembers fondly of the days she spent rendezvousing about with boys and her gal pals. Though, at that time, she wasn't married with a child and the night spot wasn't named Mimzy.

Only a few short years ago, did the name rebrand and (Y/n)'s mom rekindled a lost relationship with a lady she had a fondness for long ago. It wasn't shortly before the friendship blossomed once again did their mother get offered a job; she was ecstatic. (Y/n) couldn't be prouder of their mom, for she too in a way, fought for her right in the world. Not so long ago in the gossip vine of the town was (Y/n)'s mother ridiculed for working as a married woman. Some even went as far as to patronize the diner their mother works the early morning hours at, threatening to boycott if the enterprise supported such scandalous practices. However, nothing came from the situation besides nasty rumors and empty threats, as an anonymous word got out that (Y/n)'s father hasn't been seen for some time. Though there is no documentation that (Y/n)'s parents ever divorced, there was also no valid proof that their father supported the family, hence why the issue was dropped.

It was hard growing up without both parents being present consistently, and for their father's absence being a key factor on the shunning of both their mother and them. He came by every now and again when he was able to take a break from the road, but (Y/n) couldn't really orate that he made a big impact in the few memories they shared. It had been two years since his last visit. (Y/n) recalls him being a very traditional man, who put the Bible and social formalities before anything else. They always stuck to their mother's shadow whenever he was around, never really choosing to interact with him. Their mother, however, would grow a sense of urgency and remain steadfast on her feet to every beck and call that came from that man. (Y/n) always hated seeing the overwhelming dread that hung over their mother when he was around.

Grabbing the handle, (Y/n) was quite surprised to find the door unlocked. Jazz carries about the ostentatious display, but they saw no one hanging about the scenery. Following the orange luminescence that lean against the plush wallpaper, (Y/n) is led to a round counter with a large chalk menu hanging above it. Black cushioned stools line the exterior, contrasting from the red tables set on the other side of the establishment, and a jukebox is arranged in the corner where anyone can interact with it. As (Y/n) looks at their whereabouts in modest fascination, their heels clack against a wooden surface. They are quick to turn around, only to find they had stepped onto the dance floor centered in the room.

(Y/n) never went dancing before. Though everyone sought to learn for entertainment, even their own mother, they opted to stick to their own self. The mere thought of being surrounded by strangers under the strobe lights that circled about the deck gave (Y/n) languid anxiety. Many stories of love and bliss came from places like this; it made (Y/n) think back on Joanne's sternness of finding a social outlet and meeting a suitable man to be courted by. It's always been hard for (Y/n) to make friends, and with that, romance never crossed their mind.

"Sorry suga, but we ain't opened just yet!" A feminine voice evinces from behind. A short, plump woman in a bright pink flapper dress grins at (Y/n), her platinum bob cut bouncing as she walks. (Y/n) felt a sudden vulnerability of being under dressed, still sporting the same wear they've been in since they left the house.

"My mother told me to meet her here," (Y/n) breathes out, "Tonight's her first shift."

The woman's brows furrow as she ogles the person in front of her, before recognition washes over her face. "You must be Lorraine's girl! My, you are the spitting image of her!"

"That's me..." (Y/n) replies with a confining smile, "I apologize if I came in too early, the door was open."

"Not a problem at all, deary! I leave that door open a few minutes early anyway for... special guests." A small blush crosses the woman's face as she looks away to compose herself, "Make yourself comfortable! Your ma and the other gals are getting ready in the back! If you need anything, be sure to call for dear ol' aunty Mimzy!"

(Y/n) gives their thanks before the petite lady ushers herself away to prepare for opening. They decide to take up space in the far corner away from the dance floor, the table beginning to be covered with assignments and books. (Y/n) occupies themselves with their work, too engrossed to notice the oncoming crowd beginning to fill the place. Live performers took up the music as the night carried on, and congenial chatter joins into a pleasant hum. The atmosphere was quixotically pleasant to (Y/n)'s revelation, and they found themselves humming along with the songs they remembered as they wrote away.

"I hope this doesn't come off as pushy, but I couldn't help but to wonder why a lovely specimen such as yourself is all by her lonesome?" A voice articulates in a teasing tone, "It almost seems that you want to be hidden away!"

(Y/n)'s grip tightens on the pencil in their hand, and they look up with a glare. The man who spoke, sported in a red vest and black slacks, registers a simper as they make eye contact. The familiar brown hue twinkles with amusement as (Y/n) straightens in their seat. (Y/n) recognizes this man to be the one who held the door open for them at the diner earlier today.

"Alastor. Charmed to meet you!"

═══════════════════════════

〣 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! My work is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not repost anything without my permission. Thank you! 〣

🗨️Join my community support server! 💬

│The Stag & the Heron│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: (Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

═══════════════════════════

If you would like to join the taglist for this series, interact with this post, and you will be tagged when upcoming updates are published!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

〣 │Prologue│〣

〣 │Chapter One│〣

═══════════════════════════

〣 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! My work is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not repost anything without my permission. Thank you! 〣

🗨️Join my community support server! 💬

│Prologue│

│Human! Alastor x Reader│

Ⓢⓨⓝⓞⓟⓢⓘⓢ: (Y/n), forced to be confined by societal standards, wishes for someone to understand them. Everywhere they look, it seems as though the people they once knew have abandoned them. It's not until they are introduced to a well-known radio host that they realize their true potential.

Ⓝⓞⓣⓔⓢ: The reader is indicated to be biologically female as they will face certain challenges throughout this story due to the time period. Characters set in this will refer to the reader as she, but for the most part, it will be gender neutral. This is written to be platonic but will remain ambiguous. There may be inaccuracies to the time frame. This series may and will contain things such as sexism, classism, gender dysphoria, bullying, mentions of religion, and gore. Please read at your own risk.

〣Next Part〣

═══════════════════════════

A comfortable atmosphere bustles throughout the small diner as the sun barely begins to peek above the dazzling diversity of New Orleans. 'Leave A Little for Me' lulls about the establishment as the few patrons settled for their breakfast chat away about their own little worlds. The grill behind the counter sizzles and pops with use, an aroma of breakfast foods gnawing at any hungry stomachs that walk through the waxen double doors.

A woman, dressed in pale blush, walks out from the back with the swing of her hips and trays held skillfully above her pinned back hair. She settles plates in front of customers with a dashing smile, responding with polite and charming words as they thank her for the meal, before her gaze shifts towards a booth near the windows.

Another youthful lady settles there, a focused revelation upon their face as they lean over scattered papers on the table. The tip of a pen is wedged between their teeth, and they bite at it in thought. Swinging their leg over the other, an exasperated sigh escapes as they suddenly look up at the tin roof.

The waitress quickly strides over, coffee pot in hand. The woman lets her polished grin fall into a small smile, a gentle look in her eyes. Without a word of consent, she fills the ceramic mug long forgotten at the edge of the booth.

"Thanks, Ma." The lady, who's eyes remain upward, mutters gruffly.

"You look like you need it," the waitress chuckles, amusement crossing her expression as she watches her daughter guzzle from the steaming cup. "I will never understand how you can just drink it straight, (Y/n). You truly are an enigma."

"It helps me focus," (Y/n) states. "Especially when things don't make sense."

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," (Y/n)'s mom assures, but frowns when she realizes her encouragement doesn't affect the distraught mood her child is faced with. She turns her head to the bar, noting that her co-worker was reading a magazine as the traffic coming through has died down, before setting herself across the table. "What is the matter, my sweet?"

"It was hard enough getting into the major I wanted, but now I have to worry about a suitable job too," (Y/n) grumbles.

"What happened with the secretory position at the bank?"

"Lack of experience... It's either that, or I have too big ideas for anyone's liking."

"You'll find something soon enough," the older woman persuades as she takes (Y/n)'s gloved hands into her calloused own. "The perfect job is bound to pop up before summer break comes."

"I hope your optimism comes into fruition," they say with a titter. They glance to the large clock tacked to the wall beside the island, before collecting their things with a stand. "I should head out before I'm late for class. Thank you for the coffee, ma."

"Don't forget that my first shift at Mimzy's is tonight!" Their mother calls, "It's gonna be a bit of a time crunch to get used to, so I would prefer it if you met me there after your extracurricular activities. I want to walk home with you."

"You don't have to be so paranoid," (Y/n) replies as they stand by the door. "After my studies, I'm going out with Joanne for a late lunch. I'll head over once we finish our gallivanting."

"You can never be too sure, dear. The news is heating up with all kinds of stories about that serial killer. I just want you to be safe!"

The bell above the entrance rings, a chiming announcement that a customer walked in. The cook desultorily straightens herself from her torpor, a curt welcome grousing from her lips.

"I'll see you later, Ma!" (Y/n) comments over their shoulder, but not before making brief eye contact with hickory brown. Round glasses, placed on the curvature of the man's sharp nose, reflects the gleam from the sun's light. He gestures his black-clothed hand to the entry he held open, a raffish grin on his face.

"After you, mademoiselle," He cheerfully asserts.

"Thank you," (Y/n) politely curtsies before rushing out into the streets of Louisiana.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Y/n)'s temple pulsates with an ache as they stir the soup in front of them with disinterest. The warmth of the spring now settled into an orange hue on their skin, drawing out the time until nightfall came. Tapping the toe of their heel against the Mandala patterned floor, their eyes gaze up at Joanne.

Joanne was a high-class type of girl, with distinguished parents and a father that ran a well-known Men's Club in town. Daffodil hair curled around her ears and tickled rosy cheeks as she ate away at her salad. Gorgeous blue peek up at (Y/n), and with a giggle, she hides her mouth with the black clothed napkin that was folded nicely by her plate.

All the eligible boys were swoon by her meek personality, always gifting her lavish things with money they earned. (Y/n) can always tell that she adores the attention, even when she claims that none of them strike her fancy. Sometimes, (Y/n) wishes their life can be as simple and carefree as Joanne's; that they can embrace their femineity instead of their intelligence. That is not how they were designed though.

"Have you changed your mind about the dance?" Joanne softly asks, pink tinted lips rising into a smile.

"No," (Y/n) responds after a long pause, "My mind has been on other things."

"Oh, come on, (Y/n)!" She exclaims with puffed cheeks. "Why don't you go with Donald?"

"The guy who pulls my hair in history? No thanks."

"He just does that cause he likes you," Joanne laughs, "You two were meant for each other!"

"I don't see any of your suitors pulling your hair," (Y/n) gripes, "Don't tell me such stupid nonsense, Ann."

A look of hurt flashes across Joanne's face, and (Y/n) considers apologizing before she runs to tell her mother. It wouldn't be the first time (Y/n)'s pragmatism got them into trouble. Joanne's mother was a snooty woman and always tried to whip (Y/n) into their place in society since they were young. Since both Joanne and (Y/n)'s fathers worked on the road for the majority of their childhood, both of their mothers came together to help one another before Joanne's father found his passion for business. Though Joanne's family has long since moved from the quaint Neiborhood (Y/n) and their mother still resides in, Joanne always reaches out to 'catch up' with her friend since diapers.

"I'm worried for you," Joanne remarks in a dull tone as she leans back in her seat, "Your mom and I aren't always going to be there for you. Your mother shouldn't bear the responsibility of looking after you forever, and soon enough, I'm going to get married and have a family! You always talk so pessimistically about love; you never give anyone a chance! If you keep up with that attitude, you are going to end up alone!"

A screech emits from (Y/n)'s chair as they push away from the table. Abhorrence filters through every thought they wanted to say in that moment, a scowl present on their face. "And what if love is not something I'm aiming for? Have you ever thought about that?"

"And you think some silly dream is? You are a lady, (Y/n). Start acting like one," Joanne spits.

Thrusting their hand into their bag, (Y/n) throws down a few dollars on the tawny surface. "Pay my meal for me, would you? I've lost my appetite."

Swiftly pulling their coat over their shoulders, and without so much as another glimpse towards Joanne, (Y/n) stomps their way to the front. Judgmental leering warms the back of their head from the ongoing patrons they pass, with societal conjectures whispered among them. (Y/n) wishes they could declare that they were used to being seen as a freak, but the pang in their heart was hard to deny.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━☻━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The buzzing of cicadas disturbs the thick despondency that hung over (Y/n) as they trudged their feet over the concrete pavement. Though yellow-hued streetlamps and distant sounds of laughter embraced the night with sweet carol, the weight of the day wore heavy on (Y/n)'s shoulders. The keister that they wore on their side swung limply as hot air blew past, and the sweat that collected on their forehead felt consciously sticky.

In a fit of frustration, (Y/n) didn't think to take a trolley over to Mimzy's. They were so engrossed by Joanne's behavior, needing time to collect their thoughts. Granted, (Y/n) did comprehend that their tongue could be snippy without second thought, but did that give their friend the right to dismiss all that they've worked for?

Ever since (Y/n) was young, they perceived that their way of thinking was far different from the others their age. While the adolescent girls that they grew with obsessed over dolls and new dresses, (Y/n) found the extortionary power of the mind. Every day, whether it would be tuning in on the latest news of horrific disasters on the radio or reading recent articles of crimes that happened within their very own city, they would journal each observation and theory that came about their wit.

(Y/n)'s mother was always a benign supporter, providing perception in their once childish dreams. Though their mother never castigates them now for pursuing what some may see as impossible, an underlying fraught tone catches in the optimism she provides.

"Why don't you become an author?" (Y/n)'s mother once persuaded as they sat to eat breakfast together one early morning, "Or a teacher! I'm sure you can put your journalism skills to use in those professions!"

(Y/n) knows their mom means well; She was the only person (Y/n) could openly talk to, and she would listen without conviction towards any words that spewed from their dreamy wonder. However, their mother did not understand the consistent resilience that they fought with every day, that it wasn't some phase that will burn out with age. (Y/n) knows what they want; they just wish sometimes that another being would appreciate that too.

A sigh of relief escapes (Y/n) as the establishment's spendthrift sign comes into view as they round the corner. The word Mimzy flickers with life, but there was no cars or pedestrians that showed if it was so. Though (Y/n) has never experienced what goes on within this club, their mother remembers fondly of the days she spent rendezvousing about with boys and her gal pals. Though, at that time, she wasn't married with a child and the night spot wasn't named Mimzy.

Only a few short years ago, did the name rebrand and (Y/n)'s mom rekindled a lost relationship with a lady she had a fondness for long ago. It wasn't shortly before the friendship blossomed once again did their mother get offered a job; she was ecstatic. (Y/n) couldn't be prouder of their mom, for she too in a way, fought for her right in the world. Not so long ago in the gossip vine of the town was (Y/n)'s mother ridiculed for working as a married woman. Some even went as far as to patronize the diner their mother works the early morning hours at, threatening to boycott if the enterprise supported such scandalous practices. However, nothing came from the situation besides nasty rumors and empty threats, as an anonymous word got out that (Y/n)'s father hasn't been seen for some time. Though there is no documentation that (Y/n)'s parents ever divorced, there was also no valid proof that their father supported the family, hence why the issue was dropped.

It was hard growing up without both parents being present consistently, and for their father's absence being a key factor on the shunning of both their mother and them. He came by every now and again when he was able to take a break from the road, but (Y/n) couldn't really orate that he made a big impact in the few memories they shared. It had been two years since his last visit. (Y/n) recalls him being a very traditional man, who put the Bible and social formalities before anything else. They always stuck to their mother's shadow whenever he was around, never really choosing to interact with him. Their mother, however, would grow a sense of urgency and remain steadfast on her feet to every beck and call that came from that man. (Y/n) always hated seeing the overwhelming dread that hung over their mother when he was around.

Grabbing the handle, (Y/n) was quite surprised to find the door unlocked. Jazz carries about the ostentatious display, but they saw no one hanging about the scenery. Following the orange luminescence that lean against the plush wallpaper, (Y/n) is led to a round counter with a large chalk menu hanging above it. Black cushioned stools line the exterior, contrasting from the red tables set on the other side of the establishment, and a jukebox is arranged in the corner where anyone can interact with it. As (Y/n) looks at their whereabouts in modest fascination, their heels clack against a wooden surface. They are quick to turn around, only to find they had stepped onto the dance floor centered in the room.

(Y/n) never went dancing before. Though everyone sought to learn for entertainment, even their own mother, they opted to stick to their own self. The mere thought of being surrounded by strangers under the strobe lights that circled about the deck gave (Y/n) languid anxiety. Many stories of love and bliss came from places like this; it made (Y/n) think back on Joanne's sternness of finding a social outlet and meeting a suitable man to be courted by. It's always been hard for (Y/n) to make friends, and with that, romance never crossed their mind.

"Sorry suga, but we ain't opened just yet!" A feminine voice evinces from behind. A short, plump woman in a bright pink flapper dress grins at (Y/n), her platinum bob cut bouncing as she walks. (Y/n) felt a sudden vulnerability of being under dressed, still sporting the same wear they've been in since they left the house.

"My mother told me to meet her here," (Y/n) breathes out, "Tonight's her first shift."

The woman's brows furrow as she ogles the person in front of her, before recognition washes over her face. "You must be Lorraine's girl! My, you are the spitting image of her!"

"That's me..." (Y/n) replies with a confining smile, "I apologize if I came in too early, the door was open."

"Not a problem at all, deary! I leave that door open a few minutes early anyway for... special guests." A small blush crosses the woman's face as she looks away to compose herself, "Make yourself comfortable! Your ma and the other gals are getting ready in the back! If you need anything, be sure to call for dear ol' aunty Mimzy!"

(Y/n) gives their thanks before the petite lady ushers herself away to prepare for opening. They decide to take up space in the far corner away from the dance floor, the table beginning to be covered with assignments and books. (Y/n) occupies themselves with their work, too engrossed to notice the oncoming crowd beginning to fill the place. Live performers took up the music as the night carried on, and congenial chatter joins into a pleasant hum. The atmosphere was quixotically pleasant to (Y/n)'s revelation, and they found themselves humming along with the songs they remembered as they wrote away.

"I hope this doesn't come off as pushy, but I couldn't help but to wonder why a lovely specimen such as yourself is all by her lonesome?" A voice articulates in a teasing tone, "It almost seems that you want to be hidden away!"

(Y/n)'s grip tightens on the pencil in their hand, and they look up with a glare. The man who spoke, sported in a red vest and black slacks, registers a simper as they make eye contact. The familiar brown hue twinkles with amusement as (Y/n) straightens in their seat. (Y/n) recognizes this man to be the one who held the door open for them at the diner earlier today.

"Alastor. Charmed to meet you!"

═══════════════════════════

Would you like to get updated on upcoming chapters of this series? Join the taglist: Here!

〣 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! My work is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not repost anything without my permission. Thank you! 〣

🗨️Join my community support server! 💬

‼️ATTENTION TUMBLR USERS‼️

📺 🚨 Emergency Broadcast 🚨 📺

୨⎯ "𝐒𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭" ⎯୧

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

✎ Made: March 17th, 2024

〣 To see if requests are open or to be updated on upcoming posts, please go see my full masterlist: Here 〣

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Here's what I can do:

⤷Fluff & Angst ⤷Platonic ⤷Child Reader/Teen Reader ⤷Gender Neutral Reader/Female Reader ⤷Head cannons & Blurbs

Characters I prefer (but not limited to):

⤷Dean Winchester ⤷Sam Winchester

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Dean Winchester x Sister! Reader

Your Love is a Bad Medicine: Dean and his little sister are on their way to get Sam from college.  Dean has to go somewhere, and the youngest Winchester is left in the room by herself. Her anxiety begins to act up while she waits for her brother to come back.

Please Don't be Mad: The youngest Winchester decides to sneak out without her brothers knowing. However, something happens that she ends up having to call Dean.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Sam Winchester x Sister! Reader

You're Beautiful: (Y/n) gets antsy when she doesn't have time to put on makeup; however, her big brother, Sammy, is there to cheer her up.

I Miss Her Too: The brothers open up about their dead sister.

Why Can't I freakin' Have a Pair of $3 Headphones?: Sam buys something that his sister wanted; However, Dean doesn't know.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Dean & Sam x Sister Reader

Coffee Please: The youngest Winchester wakes up exhausted from an awful night of sleep. She has never had coffee before but seeing her brothers have a cup, she wants to see if it will help perk her up too.

Enough Adventuring for One Day: The Winchester's sister gets lost in a store.

Late Night: The youngest Winchester takes care of her brothers after a hunt gone wrong.

Boba, How I've Missed You!: Sam and Dean surprise their younger sister with her favorite treat- Boba!

"Your Frog Prince is Waiting~": As the Winchesters spend more time at the Roadhouse, the youngest gains a little crush on one of the residents.

╎Inspired by episode one╎ Jess Asks for Help: As Dean is trying to convince Sam to join the expedition to find dad, the youngest Winchester helps Sam's girlfriend in the kitchen. Something is Not Right: Dean is taking Sam home just as he promised. However, the youngest Winchester feels that something is not right and asks Dean to go back to get Sam.

╎Inspired by episode three╎ Not Your Fault: The Winchester's sister tries to save Lucas before he falls off the dock but ends up almost drowning herself.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

〣 If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask! My work is intended for entertainment purposes only. Please do not repost anything without my permission. Thank you! 〣

Last Update: March 17th, 2024 ✎