#ONE DAY I WILL ENDGAME YOU SIR BUT IT IS NOT THIS DAY | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loveindefinitely · 11 months ago

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

05 — THESE THINGS EAT AT YOUR BONES

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

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You were seventeen when you enlisted.

Obviously, you had to lie about your age – just a year off, not a drastic difference. The recruiters wouldn’t care enough to double check, anyways. Anyone willing to join their forces was good enough in their books.

You’d been desperate, desperate for a sense of community, for a home, for something to occupy your time with.

Things hadn’t been easy after your mother had passed.

She’d raised you on her own; having taken you from your father before you could realise what a father was. Said he was a bad man, didn’t deserve an angel like yourself. Sometimes, you wished that you’d known him, or at least had a father figure to look up to.

That was rare, however. Your mother had done a great job in raising you – making sure you had morals and looked out for others. Always had a roof over your head, food made with love in your tummy.

It was only three months prior to your enlistment that she passed.

While you were at school, she was shot and killed in your childhood home. The day you walked through that front door, backpack a hefty weight on your shoulders, and saw her wide-eyed corpse on the living room carpet, was the day that a piece of you died.

That night, with the cool fabric of the paramedic’s shock blanket around your frame, you looked up what happens after you die with shaky, blood-stained hands. A question you hadn’t had to consider. Not until then.

The police wrote down your stilted words in their government-issued notepads, attempts of sympathy on their faces.

All you could focus on was the tap tap tap of your foot against the carpet, the chewed up flesh of your inner cheek, and the burning of your eyes.

You had, thankfully, managed a choked up explanation of what you’d seen.

“I came home. From school. She was just. There. On the carpet. Her eyes were open,” you managed to whisper, eyes remaining in your lap.

“How did you feel when you saw her?” The officer asked.

You had half the mind to ask him that very same question. You didn’t, of course.

“I felt that she deserved a better death than this. Sir.”

The time after that passed in quick, blurry memories. A hand on your shoulder here, a trauma nurse there, all the while your mind could only supply you with the image of the one person you had. Gone.

“Here.”

You’d looked up with bloodshot eyes and chapped lips. The man looked to be in his late forties, with greying hair and saggy features. In his hands was a steaming cup of tea – extended towards you. With trembling fingers, you took it from the man.

“Thank you,” you’d murmured, before blowing across the liquid with a soft breath. It rippled with the flowing air, tea leaves simmering on the bottom. If you looked hard enough, you could make out a tree.

“Is it alright if I join you?” He asked, gesturing to the chair in front of you. You nodded, and he moved to get comfortable in his seat, eyes remaining on you. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

That was, funnily enough, the first time you’d heard those words said to you.

“I’m Herschel Shepherd,” the man supplied, with a small, comforting smile. He extended a weathered hand to you, and after a moment, you accepted it with a light shake. “I think I might know who’s responsible for your mother’s death.”

You swallowed. “What? Are you,” you worked your heavy tongue, “Are you in the FBI?”

He loosed a hearty chuckle at that, before shaking his head. “No, kid. I’m a bit higher up than that.”

You didn’t have it in you to push. Not then, not with the smell of blood a consistent rot in your nose. You just nodded, accepting that explanation, squeezing your hands together for comfort.

“There’s been some rumours,” Shepherd leaned his elbows against his knees, lowering himself to meet you at eye level. “Of a secret organisation, searching and killing those affiliated with the army. Especially those who served, and then ran.”

Your brows furrowed, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “What does this have to do. With anything – my mum, she wasn’t –”

“She was, kid,” Shepherd interrupted with a raised hand. “She was a renowned Lieutenant. Served for ten years.”

Tap tap tap, your foot goes.

“She would’ve told me,” you managed out, throat choking up and nostrils flaring. “She wouldn’t have hid that from me. I’d know. You’re lying.”

“She didn’t tell you to keep you safe,” he urged, resting his hand on your bouncing knee in comfort. “But… This is more than just her. This is an attack on our country, on you, kid. I’m investigating this group, their ideals, their plans. You can help.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No. This has nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you,” Shepherd immediately retorted, and you felt your chest caving in, your shoulders deflating. “It’s up to you. I hope to see you in my regiment, kid.”

Then, he’d stood, and dropped a card onto your lap. Without another word, he left.

It was later that night, when you found yourself near passing out, that you’d read his business card. It had his name, his title – Lieutenant General – and a regiment. You weren’t sure how any of it worked, if you could do this, if you were made for something like the army. That night, you’d studied and watched and learned everything you could about his regiment.

Three months later, you’d stood before him, gun in hand.

He just smiled, knowingly, and clapped a hand on your shoulder. He leaned down and whispered, “Together, we’ll avenge her.”

And you did, under his wing. You set things right.

Your ears ring, the bumps of the vehicle doing nothing to snap you out of your daze. It’s like your insides have turned inside out, every molecule of liquid evaporated with a single name.

“He’s a good man,” you manage to say, breaking the stunned silence of the 141. You don’t dare to look up, to see their expressions, their apprehension. “He saved me. Multiple times. He wouldn’t hurt anyone without a reason, he wouldn’t.”

Even as you say the words, try and plead, you find yourself losing faith. It’s a devastating thing, one that has you wanting to wretch your near-empty stomach.

“We did some digging,” Price murmurs, sounding sorrowful and almost guilty. “We found the truth.”

The entire time that Price retells the intel he and ‘Laswell’ found, you find yourself falling deeper and deeper into your pit of despair. Like you’re clawing with your nails to get out, yet all you’re finding is unrelenting stone, breaking the keratin with every scratch.

By the time that all the information has been told, your body feels as though it’s frozen.

It isn’t until you feel a thumb wipe against your cheek that you realise you’re crying. Finally, finally, you look up, and meet Soap’s mirthful eyes. His thumb is rough where it wipes away your tears, gathering the salty liquid against the ridges of his fingertips.

Could it get worse than this? Worse than being told that the only other man in your life – the only other person you’d trusted – was a bad man? Working with Graves? How hadn’t you known? Why hadn’t Graves told you –

Why. Why. Why?

“He was the closest thing I had to a father,” you manage, feeling almost manic with it. “He – he and Graves, they’re all I have, I can’t, you can’t–”

You barely manage to open the small window before you’re hurling your empty guts, nothing coming out but air and some bile burning the back of your throat. Your throat, eyes, your entire body aches.

Two large hands rub at your back, and you can hear words being said, but you can’t understand them, can’t hear anything but a low buzz in the back of your mind. Your breath comes out in loud, sharp pants, and you can’t help but sniffle as tears roll down your cheeks and drip from your chin.

Your entire life has just been flipped on its head, and you can’t handle it. You are a Colonel, you’re supposed to be impenetrable, but this, this is everything you ever had. Gone with a few words, a single mission.

“It’s okay, lass, fuck,” you can finally make out Soap saying, recognising one of the hands as his. It’s an, admittedly, comforting weight, one that you find yourself leaning back into. “Steamin’ Jesus.”

“Kyle, do you have water?” Price calls out to the front, and soon, a hand directs your head to enter the van once more, an opened water bottle being pressed to your lips. Price holds it, his hand stroking the back of your neck in support. “Have a drink, darlin’,” he encourages, tilting your head back as you swallow the ice-cold water. “There we go,”he murmurs, his touch unrelenting.

“You good, love?” Gaz calls from the front, brows furrowed where he’s half-watching in the rearview mirror.

All you can give him is a small, weak nod, but he seems to accept it.

Your mind is spinning at a mile per minute, shuddering when Price pulls the bottle away and Soap continues to rub your back in calming circles. This is, you think, the one time you’ll allow yourself to be comforted by them. This was already crossing too many of the boundaries you’d put up in your head, a clear violation of the separation you’d planned out.

Ghost, true to his name, remains still where he sits in front of you, calculating as he stares you down.

“What are the chances,” he begins, focus remaining on you even if everyone else’s is suddenly on him, “That General’s personal pet is also Graves’ girl who had a change of heart?”

“Si–” Soap begins, before Ghost cuts him off.

“How do we know she’s not a fuckin’ spy,” he spits out, glaring at you with everything he has, “And we’ve been too fuckin’ stupid to figure it out!”

You’re not in control of your body, at this point. Your emotions are.

With one breath, you pull out the blade hooked to your hollister, grip it in a fist, and grab the scruff of Ghost’s uniform and pull him close. Grabbing his hand, you slide the knife into it, grabbing his wrist, pulling it forward so the knife is pressed against your neck.

“Kill me,” you breathe, chest heaving, eyes burning with rage, “Kill me if you think I’m a spy. Slice the knife through my fucking throat, Lieutenant, do it.”

His irises are blown black, the white of his eyes stark against the grease paint smeared over his visible skin. You can feel his heavy breaths through his mask, brushing against your snarled lips. You pull him even closer, your fist unrelenting against the fabric of his uniform.

There’s an uproar around you, Soap yelling something to you both, Price trying to tug you away by his grip on your upper arm, Gaz trying to both focus on not crashing and whatever the hell is happening behind him.

You’re strong, however. Trained and built for hand-to-hand battle, and you don’t move an inch. Not when you’re so determined, so stubborn.

“Kill. Me.” You hiss, the words quiet enough to only be heard by the man holding a knife to your throat. You lean in closer, and you can feel a small trickle of blood fall down your bared neck, but it’s a thrilling type of pain.

“You’re a crazy bastard,” he spits back, but he notably eases the knife away from your skin. You just lean into it further, more blood being let. “If you keep tryna call bluffs like this, you’ll be sent home in a casket.”

“What home, Lieutenant?” You ask, almost desperate for his answer, a demand. You narrow your gaze, refusing to break eye contact. “If you can find where the fuck I belong, I’ll be happy to die within its walls.”

The two of you standoff, your eyes doing all the speaking, before Ghost allows the blade to fall from his grip, hitting the floor of the van with a clunk. “You win, Sweetheart,” he taunts, the words being breathed against your own mouth, mere millimetres apart. “Congratulations.”

You finally allow yourself to be pulled back, Soap shooting you a shell-shocked look, his jaw clenching as he looks between you both. Price finally eases his grip around your arm, barking, “Don’t pull that shit! One wrong move and –”

“My whole life has been one wrong move,” you grit out, falling back into your seat with shallow breaths. You drag your hand down your face, before resting against the sticky heat of your blood, pooling at the dip of your neck. “What’s one more?”

There’s no response. You don’t hope for one, don’t expect one, but it still leaves you unsteady. Unsure. Even when everyone just sits in an odd sort of limbo for a few minutes, you struggle to come down from that high, that overwhelming need for control.

“Here.”

When you look up, it’s to see Soap, a medkit in his lap. Price is sitting on the other side next to Ghost, talking quietly to him, stern expressions displayed on them both. They seem lost in conversation – a serious one, considering your current situation.

“What’re you doing?” You find yourself asking, watching as he rips open an alcoholic wipe and takes it out, your leg bouncing. He gives you a friendly smile, this side of hopeful.

“Patchin’ ye up, Sweetheart. Goes both ways,” he explains, and your eyes go glassy once more. “Can aye fix ye up?”

You don’t trust your words, so you simply nod, tilting your head back. You find yourself rocked by the rhythm of Gaz’s driving, finding solace in the comfort of semi-safety. Although not as safe as you would’ve been at Graves’ base, there was a sense of… protectiveness that came with being with the 141.

Wincing, you grit your teeth as Soap cleans up the blood from your throat, his gentle ministrations so at odds with his bumbling, charismatic character. He’s precise, careful to not hurt you too much, delicate movements made by harsh hands.

“You sure do like playin’ with fire, lass,” he murmurs, swiping the last bits of drying blood from the hollow of your throat, the tip of his tongue peeking out from between his lips. “Can respect that.”

“I’m sorry for… that,” you sigh, watching as he deposits the used wipe into a hazard bag. Good practice, you think, prioritising avoiding any bloodborne diseases. You’re silently impressed. “Didn’t mean to lose my shit. Just. A lot.”

“I know,” he returns, earnest, opening a bottle of sanitary cream and swiping some onto his finger, bringing it to soothe over your small wound.

“I don’t know who to trust.”

Those words aren’t exactly good ones to say, not to a borderline enemy with his hands on your neck. But it feels like an otherworldly force makes you say them, makes you expose yourself even further to this man. Maybe a taunt, maybe a small punishment for saving his life.

He pauses, but quickly covers up his hesitation with returned fervour. “I don’t envy ya, hen. It’s an absolute shitshow. But…” he grabs some medical tape, cutting it to length to put over your wound. Apparently it’s worse than you’d thought. “Ye heard what happened. Shepherd, Graves, they’re not worthy of ya.”

That gives you pause. Worthy. What made someone worthy? What kind of clarifications?

Did he think he was worthy? Ghost? Price? Gaz?

“You think I’m better than the General?” You raise a brow, attempting to goad him, spark that flame of banter that always seemed to haunt the Scot.

“I know ye are. Seen it with my own eyes.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“We’re nearly back at the safehouse,” Gaz calls from the front, tapping his hands against the steering wheel to a silent rhythm. Price grunts out a reply, and Ghost remains silent, watching. Always watching.

Finishing up his quick first aid job, Soap tilts your head back down with a grip on your chin, his thumb stroking along your bottom lip. “There we go, Sweetheart. Good as new,” he whispers, the corner of his lips tilting into a kind grin.

“How’s the arm?” You find yourself asking, looking to the bandaged ligament. “Feeling alright?”

“Definitely better than if aye’d let it get infected,” he hums, looking down to his arm. “Once this blows over, nurses on base will sort it out.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but you realise that his thigh is pressed against yours, and your leg has stopped bouncing. No more tap tap tap. Just… the feel of fabric against your own, heated by the flesh underneath. The comforting touch of another human, not sexual, not for any reason but to simply… exist.

Ten minutes pass of comfortable silence between you both, before the vehicle comes to a stop, Gaz turning off the engine with a turn of his keys, unbuckling his seat belt and hopping out of the car.

“Out we get,” Price says to you all, gentler than he’d been before. The doors burst open, Gaz flinging the keys back to his Captain, urging the four of you to hop out and head in.

You’re the last to get out, Gaz extending a calloused hand for you to take, ever the gentleman. Accepting it, you jump down, looking to the awaiting men. The Los Vaqueros are rushing inside, talking amongst themselves, relief thick in their words, hands being slapped against each other’s backs.

Price is looking at you as he says, “I think we have a call to make.”

As it turns out, the call is to the last person on Earth you want to talk to right now. In the middle of the same table you’d stood beside Rudy at, mere hours ago, is a computer.

One with General Shepherd’s face on it.

Price had given you the mercy in deciding whether you’d show yourself or not. You still hadn’t made the choice, instead standing off to the side, Gaz and Soap at either side of you. Alejandro stands at the right of the table, and Ghost has his arms folded over his chest at the left.

“You hid this,” Price grips the table, livid, “Why.”

Not a question, not really, more of a command than anything. An order from a Captain.

Shepherd’s response has your blood running cold, reality finally cementing inside of yourself. You claw at your palms when he responds, drily, “We all keep secrets, Captain.”

And, oh, what a slap in the face that is.

“Why the hell wasn’t I informed?” Price snaps, his shoulders rising and falling with each barely restrained breath. He seems to fill out his uniform more than he had before, in the dim light of the room.

The boarded up window allows for a small sliver of sunset to cast against all of you, a small joy in the darkness of the safehouse. And the situation at hand.

“Consider yourself well informed now, John,” Shepherd’s tone lowers, more grating, forceful.

“Oh, that's really fuckin' helpful, General. Thank you. But you're a day late and a missile short. There's three of them – we only found two.”

“Then point yourself in that direction, and fix it,” Shepherd booms, and you can’t help the instinctual flinch of your body. You’d grown up being frightened of his raised voice, the threat that came along with it. Even in the safety of this house, you can’t help your response.

Price scoffs a laugh with no humour, his mouth falling into a grim, dangerous line. “And who fixes you, eh?”

You can hear, more than see, Shepherd’s returning snarl. “I don’t need fixing. I’m a patriot protecting my country.”

Gaz and Soap share a look above your head, but you don’t care, not now. Not when Price stands up, slamming his hand against the table, not when Alejandro curses under his breath.

Not when all you can think about is the empty promises Shepherd made.

“You’re protecting your own ass,” Price cusses, turning back to glare at the man on the screen.

“I do what needs to be done, and no one holds me down with a roll of red tape. I know what's best for the cause.”

Price chuckles, eyes a fire of fury, leaning down once more to the laptop. “You’ve lost your mind, General.”

“And you've forgotten what you're fighting for, John. To do good, you gotta do some bad. When we shit, we bury it, that's how it works,” Shepherd replies, hard and strong in his belief.

You’re at the verge of losing it.

“Yeah,” Price begins, before pointing his finger to the camera, “But we don’t bury each other with it, do we?”

“You need to turn off that side o' your head and face down the real enemy,” Shepherd warns, and it’s the final straw.

“Isn’t that what you told me, Herschel? That the organisation was the real enemy?” You quip, and for a minute, you wonder if he’s ended the call.

That is, until, a choked off voice filters in, “Kid?”

Rushing forward, you turn the laptop to face you, and your entire system seems to revolt as you see the man you once cared for like a father.

“Tell me that you didn’t betray them,” you hiss, leaning in closer, your entire face filling the screen. “Tell me that you didn’t ruin lives – tell me you didn’t make a deal with my Commander behind my back. Tell me, Herschel.”

“You wouldn’t understand –” he begins, but that’s all you needed to know.

Stepping away, you give him a final, cold smile. “Was it worth it?”

“What –” he starts once more, before you grab the handle of your gun, pulling it up to rest as a comforting weight in your hand.

“Was it worth ruining my life? Was it worth ruining this mission?”

“You’re just a kid.”

“I am a Colonel!” You shout, emotions bubbling over as you slam the gun onto the table, eyes blazing. “And when I find you, you’re going to wish you never fucked me over. What was your favourite method? Flaying? Dismemberment?”

“You’ve always been too soft and easy to manipulate,” Shepherd snaps back, voice booming through the speakers.

Your voice is as dangerous as you’ve ever heard it.

“Immolation? That was your favourite, wasn’t it?”

His eyes widen on the screen, seeming to understand, to seemingly take you seriously. Too late. Too fucking late.

“Let’s see if it’s still your favourite when it’s your turn to be the victim,” you slowly say, annunciating every word with clear speech. “Thank you for your teachings, General.”

With that, you slam the laptop screen shut, and prepare to face the fire.

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee

author's note. im so hyped for all of the future plot points. and romance. ohmygod. yes, ghost does eventually come around. yes, he's the longest slow burn. yes, he's the most intense enemies to lovers. wbk. i also got covid so i have a lot of time to rot in bed and suffer while writing!! ALSOOO there is so much fire symbolism... ;)

your comments mean soso much to me, every time iread one i squeal and feel all excited!! thank u for ur support commenters, i DO read all of them. more than once. <3

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kaylopolis · 5 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Ten

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This episode was written after episode 7 of Helluva Boss but before Full Moon. Full Moon events have not yet happened. It's also shorter, as some of it was moved to chapter nine.

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Ten - Cute

Content Warning: Minors DNI!!!, Smut (let me know if I missed any)

“Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit! Oh, shit!” The imp dove behind the desk. “Look, I’m sorry! We did everything you asked! Okay! What more do you fucking want!?”

You appeared in the middle of the office’s conference room, scaring the shit out of Blitz. It was deserted, save for the boss, who had been cleaning his prized horse figurine collection.

“Mr. Radio Demon sir, please don’t kill me,” Blitz begged from behind the table.

You raised an eyebrow at Alastor, who had taken a seat in a chair and placed his microphone on the table.

“I may have hired him to corroborate your backstory.” The demon purred, his chin resting atop folded hands. Amusement sparked in his eyes.

Ah. Well, no wonder Blitz is terrified - he probably found a whole lot of weird shit. Which meant Alastor heard a whole bunch of weird shit. Which meant Alastor knew you were traipsing around Earth for the past 100 years before "falling" into Hell. Great.

You wondered if he knows about your friend who traipsed with you...

“Hey, Blitzy, why didn’t you tell me someone hired you to find information on me?” You did your best to give a sweet smile. The imp didn’t know you as the Shadow. He knew you as Thestral. Which is why you came dressed in your regular clothes.

It was now Alastor’s turn to look confused.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” His horns appeared over the table. “It’s the Radio Demon! He woulda killed me on the spot.”

Hmm. True.

“Where are Millie and Moxie? You can’t be a third wheel without the other two.” You ran a finger across the desk, feigning interest in the imp's affairs.

“What the fuck is this, a social visit? What do you want, and why did you bring him?” Blitz gestures to Alastor.

“Ignore him. He’s not important.” You think you heard Alastor growl - you did your best to ignore the butterflies it stirred within you. “Your fuck buddy owes me a favor. Where in Hell is he these days? Heard he finally left the bitch, but I didn't know if he got the house or…”

“Okay,” the imp laughs as if that was the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. “First of all, he’s not my fuck buddy. Where did you hear that?”

“Octavia,” you smiled.

Yes, the famous Princess of the Night. You just so happened to run into her in the Pride Ring one night she ran away. The responsible thing would have been to return her to the Prince as soon as possible, but you ran into her as Thestral - the piano player at Mimzy’s. She thought you were the coolest. So you two went out, got drunk, and had a fun night. You returned her to Stolas eventually. He was so grateful and none the wiser.

Octavia has ended up in your apartment a few more times since then. Hence why, you’ve run into the I.M.P. as they were recruited to help find her.

Stolas loved you, and Octavia loved you. Blitz has mixed feelings towards you. You made his life harder, but you could keep up with his sense of humor, so that made you okay. He also may have made a pass at you, and you rejected him. Not cool.

Blitz mumbled profanities under his breath before finally giving you an answer, “The Royal took his daughter topside for margaritas.”

You shot him a dumb look, “Margaritas?”

“Yeah, she’s been all excited about the human world ever since the fucking Hollywood incident. Stolas takes her on field trips now that she actually likes him again or some shit. I don’t know! It’s her rebellious teenage millennium.”

Great.

You turned to Alastor, who was thoroughly happy that Stolas was trapped topside and out of reach. Perhaps he thought you would give up now and return to your cage?

But you didn’t give up easily and Lucifer was coming tomorrow. This had to happen now.

“Open it,” you commanded.

“What?” The imp’s voice cracked.

Alastor frowned, desperately trying to hide his anger. “My darling, I don’t think…”

“Blitz,” you pulled a fat stack of cash from the Void - the remainder of Crim’s money. “Open it.”

The imp was practically salivating at the sight.

“Deal!” He swiped it from your hand before Alastor had a chance to protest. You turned to the Radio Demon and stared him down, your eyes daring him to try and stop you.

Do it. Start a fight right here. You’d take him on. You were practically begging for a fight with the Overlord now.

No more running, right Rosie? Time to face this head-on.

You were goating him, and he could tell.

Blitz chanted the spell from the grimoire, and the portal cracked into being.

“Ready?” You held an elbow out for Alastor, who sat unmoving in the chair beside you.

“Wait, you don’t have human disguises,” Blitz reminded you.

“Oh, right,” you took the grimoire from his hands and flipped through a few pages before finding the right spell.

“How the fuck…” Blitz’s jaw dropped.

The story of this grimoire and you was for another time and another place.

You slid the book over to Alastor and plopped into the seat next to him - summoning a quill and an ink well. You had a human disguise - you had spent nearly a hundred years over there before ending up in Hell - but he didn’t.

“I need to draw this on your skin,” you pointed to the symbol in the book. “Is that okay?” You asked cautiously. You knew the demon didn’t like to be touched.

His eye’s flit to Blitz.

Ah, yes, he wouldn’t like an audience.

“Get out,” you commanded.

“Yeah, no problem!” He skitted out of the room.

Your eye’s find Alastors - a deep crinkle weighing down his eyebrows. He was liking this plan less and less by the minute.

You cleared your throat, the bubbles of anxiety filling your chest. “It needs to be drawn over the heart.”

There’s no way Alastor was going to…

He stood, took his jacket off, and draped it over the chair. He loosened his black tie and unbuttoned his red suit vest. His eyes never leaving your face, he slowly undid the top buttons of his black collared shirt.

God, you were so jealous of his fingers. They got to undress him. You didn't.

He pulled the clothing aside to reveal the left side of his chest.

You tried not to gasp, you really did, but the sight was just too shocking. The Radio Demon was covered in scars. You felt the blood drain from your face, the knot in your chest winding itself tighter and tighter until it was hard to breath.

“Don’t fret too much, darling, these scars are not of this life,” his gaze was hot on your face, heating your cheeks.

Your heart sank. Did that mean…?

“These are not what killed me,” he answered as if reading your mind.

You swallowed dryly, trying to find the ability to move once more. Dipping the quill in ink, you brought the feather to his chest. He stiffened at the contact of the tip against his skin, looking over his right shoulder, his jaw ticking with every stroke. You did your best not to touch him as much as possible as you drew.

Alastor couldn't even look at you. God, he looked so uncomfortable.

Rosie’s words echo in your mind. “Alastor is scared too…”

You cleared your throat, "Play something for me?”

Alastor shot a questioning glare from the corner of his eye.

“Humor me,” you gave him a soft smile.

The demon thought a moment before his radio clicked through a few channels, finally landing on Louis Armstrong’s “Heebie Jeebies.”

You snorted, “Very funny.”

“I live to entertain, darling,” Alastor’s smile was half-hearted.

And it pained you.

“Why radio?” You ask, dabbing your pen in the ink well. “I mean, you could have done a lot of things in life, but why that?”

"Annonymity," Alastor answered after thinking a moment. "I enjoyed the power of captivating an audience while remaining invisible outside of the booth."

Your heart skipped a beat. Alastor liked staying in the shadows...

"I've heard the stories. Rosie said you remained nameless for a long time after your broadcasts went out. It's how you earned the name 'the Radio Demon.' There wasn't a face to attribute to the deaths until..." Your voice trailed off.

"Until Vox coaxed me from the shadows," there was a gleam in his eye.

You dropped your pen, "What happened with him exactly?"

"Hmmm," Alastor hummed. "For an attempt at a distraction, darling, you are doing a poor job at it." He teased.

Oh, right.

"Fine, what's your favorite song?" You asked instead.

The demon blinked. Did you say something you shouldn't have?

After a long while, he finally said, "I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before."

Your stomach dropped.

Alastor was many things. Alastor the Overlord, Alastor the Radio Demon, Alastor the radio host... And yet, Alastor the lonely was never a persona you thought he'd fill.

You know Alastor has friends - Rosie and Mimzy, for example - but what did that mean? He and Rosie were close, you didn't know anything about how deep his relationship was with Mimzy other than she knew him when she was alive. Yet, from the way Rosie treats him, she's more a mother than a friend. Mimzy seemed more like a friend you kept at arm's length, knowing her proclivity for attracting trouble - a.k.a, she couldn't be trusted completely.

So, who did Alastor have, really?

Husk? Yeah, no. Stupid question.

So, then...

"Shave 'em Dry' by Lucille Bogan*," you answered for him.

Alastor laughed so hard his face was in his hands. His laughter was infectious, and it brought forth giggles of your own. God, the way Alastor's natural joy warmed your heart.

The demon reached out, his other hand finding your fingers wrapped in the feather pen. His thumb stroked the top of your hand, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Even through his gloves, his hands had a way of making your bones melt.

Alastor didn’t think he had a favorite song. He had never really entertained the thought, and he enjoyed so much of it all.

The demon ran his thumb across your hand to give himself time to think. He let his eyes bleed into your gaze, watching as you stifled a sharp intake of breath.

The demon had never really thought of his favorite song till the day you moved into the hotel, your red lips taunting him from the beginning. He never considered the flutter of feelings in his chest might be worthy of a song until you were dying in his arms. He never let himself consider the weight words of music held till he caught your beautiful voice singing in his kitchen.

The demon never considered he might have a favorite song till you gave him a reason to want, to desire...

“Unforgettable,” he smiled, “by Nat King Cole.”

He watched as your cheeks turned as red as your lips. “Alastor…”

God, he loved hearing his name fall from those lips.

“That’s a love song.”

Of course he knew that.

“Yes, darling, it is.” Alastor simply smiled, and that was enough to have the hair on the back of your neck standing on end.

He watched you nervously bite your lip and envied those teeth.

A sharp intake of breath, “I didn’t take you for a romantic….” You drew a few more strokes on his chest before finishing. This time, Alastor faced you and watched as you drew. He chuckled silently at the shake in your hand - he thought it adorable, really.

“You’ll find that there are many things about me..." Alastor ran his hand through your hair, cascading over your shoulder. He felt you shutter at the contact. The demon moved your hair aside with his finger, allowing a clear view of the bruises. Alastor smiled, "...that will surprise you."

He enjoyed seeing you flustered and speechless and decided the sight of you biting your red lips was his new favorite view. The sound of your heart skipping a beat in your chest and the little noise you make when he nibbles on your skin was his new favorite sound. The feel of your magic sparking to life as it reacted to his touch was his new favorite feeling. Satan’s mistress... Alastor the Radio Demon was discovering he had many favorites today.

Your gaze fell, your face heating as you tried to focus on the last few strokes of the rune on his chest. Your hand lingered a moment too long before you cleared your throat, “done.”

The demon stood abruptly and faced away from you as he reassembled his ensemble.

Jesus Christ, you were watching Alastor dress - so intimate an action, and yet you couldn't look away. Why didn't you at least offer to help with the buttons? Fuck, you prayed for the strength to get through today in one piece...

“Blitz,” you screamed for the imp when Alastor shrugged on his jacket once more.

You handed the imp the grimoire. “Drinks on me next time?”

“Oh, Hell yes! You fucking owe me!”

You resisted the urge to point out that you just gave him a fuck ton of money.

“Ready?” You held your elbow out to the demon.

“Good luck!” Blitz called after you as you stepped through the portal. “You’re going to fucking need it.” He closed the portal behind you.

You were in a dark alleyway, the sound of commotion far off. The world was warm and sunny - Hell, the sun. You hadn't seen real sunlight in years. Pulling Alastor to a half-broken mirror, you could see that you had transformed.

Your hair hung in waves down your back, no longer the silver of the damned but a beautiful natural blonde that matched your eyes. Your skin was pink and full of life, but much the rest remained the same.

God, had it been six years already since you were here? The image was quite a shock - a reminder of what came before your life flipped upside down and you packed your bags for the Underworld.

You caught Alastor staring, your cheeks turning red. A blush crept up Alastor’s neck, the same color as his suit jacket.

“Your turn,” you smiled, suddenly extremely self-conscious of your appearance. Say, " Transformare.”

“Transformare.” A whirlwind wiped around the alley, twirling its way up Alastor’s body. His skin transformed to a creamy tan, his hair darkening to a light brown, but in the morning sun, at just the right angle, it had a red tint to it. His ears and antlers disappeared as his hair shortened. It was long and curly on top but with a shortened buzz cut around the base. His monocle was replaced with a small pair of reading glasses sitting at the edge of his nose. His eyes stayed their usual red, however, and his canines were sharper than average for a mortal - a reminder that he was not fully human.

Alastor’s entire body went rigid.

The spell you had used wasn’t simply a disguise spell - it was a sort of rejuvenation spell. The Radio Demon was now staring at the reflection of his former living self.

Ooooooh, the French, the Voodoo, his taste for jambalaya. Alastor was Creole. "This face was made for radio..." It suddenly made sense...

Alastor ran a hand through his hair in complete disbelief. Cute. The thought hit your brain subconsciously, and you dropped your gaze so he wouldn't see.

“I should have warned you,” it came out as a whisper.

Alastor took a shallow breath. “No. No. I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t think I would have come if you had.”

Oh… Why did that make your heart sink?

You both stood a minute longer, Alastor’s eyes glued to the mirror before taking your arm in his.

“Shall we?” He asked.

You nodded.

Weaving between alleyways, you finally rounded the corner and were met with the deafening roar of people and music.

“What the…”

You popped out onto the street in a huge crowd, confetti filling the air, beads being tossed, a band marching down the street. It was an absolute madhouse.

Alastor laughed next to you as people tried to shove their way around you. He protectively wrapped an arm around your middle, bringing you into him. The rumble of his laugh vibrated through his chest and into yours. His scent overcame you, numbing your senses and clouding your mind with thoughts of him holding you close.

He still smelled like himself. Like the forest after rain...

“Mardi Gras!” A genuine smile formed across his face. “He didn’t say margaritas. He meant Mardi Gras!”

Oh, shit. You were in New Orleans, the French Quarter specifically - Alastor’s birthplace and hometown.

You had inadvertently brought Alastor home.

People shuffled by you in wild outfits of greens, purples, and golds. Feathers and beads decorated an ocean of partygoers hidden beneath masks.

“Oh, this won’t do,” his eyes were on you now, analyzing your outfit. “If I’m to escort you around New Orleans during Mardi Gras, you certainly can’t dress like that.” With a flick of his wrist, your outfit changed.

Alastor dressed you in a dress with numerous yellow ruffled skirts and thin straps of tied ribbon holding it up. Your hair had curled into a cute bob iconic of the 1930s, and a mask of yellow feathers completed the look. The top edge of your tattoo was visible beneath the dress, but instead of its iconic silver shade, it had faded to black. Humans have all sorts of tattoos in this day and age; no one would be any the wiser... Besides, Alastor couldn't see anything but the very top of it... He wouldn't know what it was just from that...

Alastor’s suit changed into a matching set of gold, a fedora to accompany, complete with a yellow mask of felt. “Absolutely beautiful, darling,” he grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers with his. His black leather gloves were soft in your hand. “Now, where to?”

You pushed down the creep of blush running up your neck and tried to think. You were here for a reason, and it wasn't to ogle at the Overlord, no matter how slim his waist looked in gold or how badly you wanted to run your fingers through his curls...

If Octavia was here then hopefully the card was too. You dug deep behind your navel, searching for the familiar tug of the obsidian calling card you had given the Princess all those years ago.

She didn’t know what it was when you gave it to her, a precaution for her to use in case she ever got into any trouble. It only worked when you were on the same plane, however, so when she ran away to Hollywood, she couldn't use it to contact you. Now that you are both topside, you should be able to find her.

There.

“This way,” you screamed over your shoulder, pulling the Radio Demon through the crowd behind you.

Pushing through the crowd hurt, but you were on a mission, and the parade was far from over. Finally, you made it to a place called the Hotel Royal - a cute two-story corner hotel just off the main road. Dipping inside, the building led to a courtyard filled with live music and dancing. Off to one side was a bar, complete with a fountain at the center of the cobblestones. Two rows of balconies encircled the yard, with more people dancing and drinking throughout.

“It’s still here!” Alastor curled in next to you, his hand on your hip, allowing others to pass as you surveyed the scene.

You shot him a questioning look.

“Come this way,” he pulled you to the bar, complete with a wooden backdrop. He tugged you down under the bar stool, his fingers running over the wooden panel. “Here!” He screamed over the music. Beneath his fingers were two names etched into the wood: Marcel Gerard and Alastor Hartfelt**.

Holy shit.

“My mother cleaned for the hotel when we were strapped for cash. She’d bring me along to play with the owner’s son.” The demon smiled at the carving.

There it was, that concoction of butterflies and bubbles that made you queasy. What was happening? Rosie’s words flitted through your mind again as you surveyed the demon, smiling at the wood.

You felt terrified, but you were… excited about it? Alstor’s hand was still in yours, your fingers intertwined. It was… nice. The demon hated touch, but here you were, hand in hand.

Was this romance?

All of last night comes rushing back - of Alastor's hand in yours, of the demon's fists bunched in your pajama bottoms, of his mouth on your lips.

You knew the smell of vanilla was going to hit before it even graced your nose.

You didn't really know what romance was, but you wanted to.

Fuck, you wanted this. You wanted him.

And it terrified you.

Because if Alastor knew who you were and what you carried with you, he'd kill you...

Fuck.

Alastor would kill you.

You dropped his hand and stood.

“Is everything alright?” The demon's smile dropped, his face crinkling in concern.

Before you could find an excuse to explain away your weird behavior, you felt the tug. She was here.

You spun, surveilling the dance floor. There, in the middle of a group of girls was the tallest human girl you had ever seen. Her dark hair cascaded down her back into a pool of purple tips. She wore a Green dress, her mask covered in glittery sequins, which exploded into a bloom of peacock feathers above her head.

Octavia.

You pushed your way through the crowd and tapped her shoulder. She spun, clearly a little tipsy, before her eyes lit up in recognition. “What are you doing here!?” She screamed over the music, bringing you into a hug. You winced when she let you go, grabbing your arms and twirling you about.

“Same as you!” You lied. “To enjoy the festivities! Where’s your father?”

“Dad?” She stopped spinning you. “Over here, come with me!”

She dragged you to the side of the dance floor, where an extremely tall gentleman was sitting in a chair. He twirled the straw in his drink, a glum look plastered across his face. That was until he saw you and Octavia standing before him. He lit up at the sight of you and brought you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hi, Stolas,” you managed to breathe out. He dropped you, and you stumbled back into a strong pair of arms: Alastor.

The Radio Demon bowed to the Royal, “Your Highness.”

“Oh, please, that’s unnecessary,” he waved awkwardly. Stolas hated the attention. He always has.

The music turned to a dirty jazz, a song Alastor perked his ears up at.

“You mind distracting the Princess for a moment,” you whisper-screamed into his ear.

You’d hate dragging her into this.

His smile turned cockeyed - a knowing grin. He grabbed your hand and placed a kiss atop it. “Of course, ma cherie.”

He grabbed the Princess and twirled her about, dragging her onto the dance floor. You’d heard from Rosie about Alastor's dancing skills. He could kill it on the dance floor.

Turning back to Stolas, your smile faltered. “I’m afraid I’m not here for fun. I need to call in that favor.”

“Oh,” he collapsed back into his chair, looking disappointed. God, he looked so lonely.

The waiter came to take your order: a glass of red and two fingers of rye.

You pulled a piece of paper from the Void and handed it to him. He read it. Then, read it again. He eyed you suspiciously. “And what do you need this for?”

“Got into trouble a little while back. I need to take some… necessary precautions.” And Stolas was the only person you knew who knew the spell. Well… He was the only person you knew willing to share it with you. Fucking Goetia and their secrets. They had a whole ass society based on them.

He waited for you to elaborate further, but you didn’t.

“Very well,” he pulled a quill from the void, awaiting your arm expectantly. “I’m assuming you have the ink?”

You summoned the white liquid from the Void - you took it off Cain after he died.

The waiter returned not long after, shooting you two a weird look as the demon drew a mark on your arm in sparkly white ink. The liquid was mixed with the bones of a saint - it had to be for the spell to work.

Your mind turned to the dance floor as you sipped the Cabernet. Alastor was twirling the poor girl around and around in a flurry of drunken giggles. At least she was having fun, and so was the Overlord. A genuine smile plastered across his face as the saxophone dived into a solo. Watching him enjoy himself warmed your heart but also pained it.

Were you going to tell him?

“Such strange company you keep,” Stolas interrupted your thoughts. Of course, he recognized the Radio Demon.

“Like I said, necessary precautions.” You shot him a fake smile. You decided to pivot the conversation. “How are you, Stolas?” You genuinely wanted to know.

“It has been hard,” the Prince started. “But my little owlette has been keeping me busy.” He half-heartedly laughs.

“I heard about Hollywood. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help.”

“It’s quite alright. You have done so much for us already. Besides, I’m glad it happened. We’ve grown closer because of it.” He smiled at his daughter on the dance floor.

Your heart panged. Pulling a key from the Void, you slowly pushed it across the table. “You’ll find the cabin on the outskirts of Levitowne in Envy. It’s well-hidden and private. Just in case. I’ve heard the stories.”

He eyes the key, then eyes you. He knows Human Sinners can't leave the Pride Ring. He knows there is no way you could ever have gone to Envy, let alone secured a home. There are questions swimming in his eyes, you know he’s thinking if he can trust you. You hope your actions in the past prove true.

Besides, you needed powerful allies in your back pocket for what you were planning...

“Thank you.”

Oh, thank the Lord.

“You always have an ally in Pride, of course. If you ever need it, I’ll drop everything and run.”

A smile found his face again. “You always do.” He returns your forearm to you. You watch the ink set into your skin, its white sparkle fading into black. You hoped that was a good sign. You slip the ink well back into the Void.

“I hope it works,” the Prince eyes the tattoo now visible on your forearm. “For your sake.”

For everyone's sake.

“Dad!” The Princess practically falls onto your table. She scrambles for the Prince’s arm. “Come! I must show you this dance Al taught me!”

Al?

The demon appears next to you, his forehead shining with sweat. He fixes his mask on his face and runs a hand through his wild hair. He laughs and says something to the Princess in French. “Merci pour cette belle danse, chérie.”

She giggles and responds in the language. “Arrête de traîner et fais-le déjà!”

Since when does she know French!?

“Comment sais-tu que c'est ce qu'elle veut?” Alastor asks.

Wait a minute; you’re an Angel, you know every language. You flipped the switch in your mind.

“Je vois la façon dont vous vous regardez. Tu as déjà son cœur... mais elle ne le sait pas encore! She just doesn't know it yet!” Octavia laughs hysterically as she drags her father into the crowd. She winks at you as she disappears behind a wall of bodies.

The Radio Demon shirks off his coat and hangs it over the back of your chair.

“Do I want to know what that was all about?” You raise an eyebrow questioningly, handing him the drink you ordered for him.

He downs it in one gulp, then collapses into the chair across from you. "Just a bit of teasing," he laughs, motioning to the two of them on the dance floor. Kicking his legs out in front of him and leaning back in the chair. "The Princess is a quick study."

Hmm...

You sipped your wine. From your seat, you could see the Princess attempting to spin Stolas in the same way you had watched Alastor spin her. The height difference made it difficult, but the Prince was beaming regardless.

“I didn't realize you were fluent in French?” You asked.

“Darling, I could speak French before I could walk.” He smiles, his Southern accent slipping through. You were surprised but should have guessed. He was a New Orleans native turned Radio Host Star, of course he adopted the Transatlantic accent. Yet, his words curled around you and whisked your breath away.

The music changes abruptly, slowing in tempo. You watch as dancers paired off, swaying with the music. Stolas and Octavia have disappeared completely. You’re not worried - the Princess can handle anything thrown at her in this realm. It was Stolas who needed a babysitter.

You turn to take another sip of your drink but find Alastor leaning on the table. His eyes half-lidded, his smile tipped up in a cockeyed grin, he holds a gloved hand out expectantly.

“May I have this dance?” He purrs, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your heart skips a beat at the desire glowing in his eyes. He was captivating, all-consuming. He looked at you like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Like it was just you and him in this club right now.

“Okay,” you slipped your hand in his. He led you from the table to the fountain at the center of the courtyard. Bringing your hand to his shoulder, he found your waist and pulled you a beat closer, careful of your wounds. You weren’t touching, other than your grips, but the proximity would have been considered scandalous in his day.

He led you around the dancefloor in a slow waltz, matching the speed of the music. You were a terrible dancer; at every ball you attended in Heaven, you found some way to weasel out of it early. You never danced unless required, finding comfort on the sidelines, preferring to hide in the crowd than be out on display.

You originally became the Shadow for that very reason - you hated eyes on you. You hated the spotlight. You preferred to work behind the scenes, behind a mask. It was more comfortable there.

Your eyes slipped down to your feet as Alastor led. You did your best to match his, terrified of stepping on his toes. He had a reputation as a fabulous dancer, after all.

“Eyes on me, darling,” he said, placing a finger under your chin and guiding your face to meet his.

The cold steel of red softened as you held his gaze. The room fell away, the music lulling you into a world of your own. Alastor pulled you a beat closer, your chest heaving against his. Your heart rammed against your ribs, and you prayed the demon couldn’t hear it; you prayed he couldn’t smell the adrenaline running through your veins or the vanilla wafting off you in droves.

You were terrified; you wanted to jump out of your skin and run, but his gaze kept you cemented to his side, like a bird trapped in a cage. Yet the cage didn’t feel like a prison. It didn’t even feel like a cage at all. It was freeing. Like you could take off into flight knowing the sanctity of protection forever remained.

No more running.

“Alastor, last night..." You swallowed dryly, "was what happened... only about Vox?”

Alastor's eyes lit up in amusement as he pondered. “Hmmm, no.” Your heart skipped a beat. “Although I do admit jealousy is not an emotion I am accustomed to.”

He was jealous. You were right. So, does that mean...?

You smiled nervously. Thank God Alastor was wearing gloves right now because your palms were sweating. "So you didn’t know about the date when it was happening then?”

The demon ran his hands through your hair, giving him a clear view of your bruised neck. “I assure you, ma cherie, had I known about it at the time, Vox would not currently be breathing.” The demon leaned in, his breath hot on your face. “I do not like it when someone tries to take what is mine.”

Butterflies erupted in your chest, stealing the air from your lungs. “Mine?” You breathed, your mind fully aware of the closeness of his lips, of the demon leaning in more and more as you swayed.

“Mine.” Alastor growled as his mouth found yours.

It was far softer this time. Last night, Alastor was hungry; now he kissed you like a delicacy he wanted to savor - like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world to be nowhere.

The demon cupped your cheek, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. He held you like you might flee from his grip, like you might fade away beneath his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You tipped up on to your toes, leaning your body into him, letting your hands fist the lapels of his suit jacket. The taste of rye flooded your mouth as Alastor's tongue found its way between your teeth. You moaned into him as little bolts of Alastor's static zipped across your skin.

Your senses were on fire as the demon threaded his fingers through your hair. God, you set a mental reminder to wear your hair down more often, if only to feel Alastor's fingers play with it as he kissed you.

You pushed your magic through the connection and actually felt Alastor's adrenaline surge through his veins. The demon spun the two of you around, walking you backward to the brick wall. His lips never left yours, his soft kisses turning hungrier.

With one hand fisting in your hair, his other trailed down your side, and you actually whined when he skipped your breasts and went straight for your hips.

"Such a greedy little thing," he murmured against your lips as he pressed his waist into you.

You yelped.

Jesus Christ, he was hard.

Fuck you knew Alastor was big, but you didn’t really know. That day in the bayou, when you ground your hips into him, you only stuck around long enough to feel the beginning of his erection and not the process of it.

You threw your hands around his neck, needing the extra leverage to arch your body into him. Your fingers brushed the base of his hair, reminding you of the earlier itch to play with his curls. So you did just that. It was different, not having the antlers or the ears, but his hair was so soft, softer than his short-cropped red hair in Hell. The curls wrapped your fingers as you played with it before grabbing hold. The demon growled into your mouth, his hot tongue swiping over yours, his hands falling from your hair straight to your hips.

The demon used his teeth to pull off a glove, before moving lower and grabbing hold of your skirt...

"Alastor!" You gasped, trying to break apart, but Alasotr held you firmly in his grasp. "We're in public!"

The demon's chuckles rumbled through your chest, his forehead never leaving yours, “Ah, and yet we are completely alone."

You blinked.

What?

You surveyed the room, which was thoroughly on fire. Blues and greens bled into the walls and furniture, slowly overtaking the building. Your and Alastor's magic had ignited at some point during your kiss, billowing out of control and spilling out into the world around you.

The crowd must have run at the sight of the flames, and yet you heard none of it. The two of you were too completely and absolutely entranced with one another to notice.

"Oh," you squeaked.

The demon pressed his lips to your ear, his voice deep and smokey as he said, “You started sparking the second I asked you to dance.”

Shit. You weren’t paying attention. Your mind was elsewhere…

Alastor's hands moved again, bunching your skirts in his fist to allow access to...

"Oh, my God!" You yelped as Alastor cupped your sex.

"I assure you, darling, he had nothing to do with this," the demon growls.

Alastor moved your underwear aside, his finger separating your folds, feeling your wetness...

"Al...Alastor!" You gasped as a finger entered you.

"That's better," he smiled.

"What happened to waiting till I'm healed?" Your nails dug into his shoulders as he started to move. Tiny gasps escaped your lungs as he slipped in and out of you.

It was a foreign feeling for you; you had never had this kind of stimulation before, but GOD did it feel good. When did you get so wet? It was like your body knew what was happening before you did and was already prepared.

"I don't know if you noticed, ma cherie," the demon catches your gaze, his irises flashing back and forth between pupils and radio dials, "but I'm fighting restraint." His lips ghost over yours, his grip on your waist hardening. "And I'm losing terribly."

The demon's lips swallow your moans as a second finger presses in. First knuckle. Second knuckle. In and out. In and out.

Jesus, Alastor was teasing you.

How rude.

You bit down on Alastor's bottom lip as you ground down into his hand, your body begging for more friction. The demon moaned this time, his hips bucking on instinct.

He pressed into you, his knee coming to rest between your thighs to give himself more leverage. You could feel it, though, the throb of his dick in his pants.

You reached out to cup him through his pants - to do exactly what you didn't know. You'd never done anything like this before, but your body, heart, and mind were screaming at you - want, want, want!

Alastor pulled his hips back, just out of reach. You actually whined when your fingers met nothing but air.

"Uh, uh, darling, it's my turn to play." He growled, the vibrations reverberating through your chest.

"But, Al-!" You started to protest, but then Alastor curled his fingers, and the pleasure wave that rolled through you had you gasping for breath. It was so much more.

Somewhere, off in the distance, there was a crash, but your mind was too numb to process it.

"There it is," the demon smiled against your cheek, clearly proud of the control he had over you, over your body. The demon placed a kiss on your cheek as you continued to grind down into his hand. His mouth trailed to your neck...

You collapsed into the demon when his teeth bit down, not enough to draw blood, but enough to nibble, to send your skin alight with his static. The demon sucked and then licked at the sore spot with his forked tongue, soothing the pain. Your hands clenched in his suit jacket for stability as your legs begin to give out, your climax building.

Alastor's hands thrust up into you harder, his other hand pressing down on your lower abdomen. Jesus, why did that make everything feel so much better?

"Cum for me, darling." He commanded his lips on your neck. Nipping. Sucking. Licking.

"Al, I'm... Oh, God!" And you obeyed.

You screamed into his shirt, your walls twitching around him as you rode that wave of ecstasy. It wasn't like before, like in your dream. Then your pussy throbbed on nothing but air, but now, now Alastor filled you with his warmth, and the high was so so much better.

Alastor continued to pump into you until your thighs stopped convulsing around him, your walls desperately milking his fingers for more. Each small thrust of Alastor's hand had your body shaking, had the pleasure prolonging more and more. The demon held you up against the wall, your legs nothing but jelly, your mind numb, and your thoughts muddled.

You swore you heard glass break.

Alastor kissed you on the top of the head, "Good girl."

You moaned when he slipped out of you, his other hand fixing the skirt of your dress. God, how could anyone function after something like that?

"Mmmmmm," Alastor hummed, sucking his fingers dry. "Heavenly." The demon shot you a knowing smile. He wrapped a finger around your chin, tilting your head towards his. "You always taste so sweet."

Goddamn...

The look of pride in Alastor's eyes made your heart swell as he whispered, “We should probably leave, ma cherie, before we burn the place to the ground.”

Somewhere in you, you found your bones again. Forcing clarity into your mind, you not only registered fire, but the building itself had begun to crumble. Walls had collapsed, glass had broken, and the bar was in shambles. The only thing still standing was the brick wall surrounding you, as if the blue and green magic knew to protect the pleasure swimming between the two of you.

Well, shit. Your orgasm had practically leveled a building.

Wait.

"What about you?" You raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his pants. Still weak, you continued to hold on to his shirt, letting the scent of musk swirl around your numb brain.

God, you never wanted to move again.

Alastor tipped his head back and laughed, "Oh, darling, let's just say I have ruined another pair of perfectly good trousers."

Your cheeks heated. Wait, did that mean that he...? Wait. Wait. Wait. What does he mean by "another"...?

The sound of sirens brought you back to the situation. You needed to leave, but first...

You shot Alastor a smug look, his hands still wrapped around your chin as you - SNAP! The colored fire disappeared. The demon tipped his head back and laughed again before planting one last kiss on your lips.

Rolf shadowed you outside to the alley. The building was plagued with blackened walls, the air impregnated with ash. The structure was crumbling in on itself. You had left mere seconds before being crushed.

Holy, shit, you did that.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, your stomach dropping. "That was a childhood memory, and I destroyed it..."

"And made a new memory," Alastor smiled at you, running his thumb across your cheek.

He wasn't mad. If anything, he looked proud.

Alastor laughed at the sight before taking your hand. “Come, I want to show you something.” He led you back out onto the street, your legs jelly as you followed after him.

Out of the chaos, he sat you on a bench a few blocks down before disappearing into a storefront. He came out a few moments later with a donut topped in green, gold, and purple sprinkles.

“A King Cake,” he called it, breaking it in half for you. “Winner finds the baby.”

You scrunched your nose in confusion, making him laugh.

“An old French tradition,” he took a bite. “To celebrate the coming of the Three Kings. A small object is hidden in the dough; whoever finds the trinket - a small plastic baby Jesus - is brought luck and prosperity for the next year.”

You giggled, “Why does it feel fitting that a former Angel and a cannibalistic demon are sitting on a bench in the human realm eating a metaphorical baby Jesus?” You took a bite.

He laughed. “Yes, if Mother could see me now.”

Your heart sank. “What was your mother like?”

His eyes wandered off as if viewing a memory. “She was the kindest soul. Her smile lit up a room, her laugh infectious. She could make the sun shine on a rainy day and cure anything with a bowl of her jambalaya.”

Ah, that’s where he learned that recipe.

“She would have adored you,” he smiled to himself, tilting his head.

You forgot about the pastry for a second. Placing your hand in his, you squeezed. “And I’m sure I would have adored her.” You smiled at each other for a moment before returning to the cake.

“You know, when they sent me down here in search of Eve, I went everywhere; New York, L.A., London, Tokyo, Prague, Moscow, you name it. Yet, I never made my way to New Orleans. We might have met if I had.” You giggled.

“And did you find her?”

“Who?”

“Eve.”

You froze, finally realizing your mistake.

“Ma cherie?” Alastor leaned forward into your vision, worry creasing his face.

Oh, fuck.

“Uhm!” You jumped to your feet, wincing from the pain. “We should… We should go.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a panic. “The Hotel needs work before Lucifer shows up and I’m sure Charlie is panicking right now. You know how she gets when she’s stressed. And I haven’t seen them in two weeks nor have I checked in with Husk and Angel after I collapsed. They’re probably worried sick. And I… And I…” You were hyperventilating now. “And I should help clean up the Hotel. You’re the Manager so you should definitely be there. What if Nifty get’s stuck again and…”

Alastor gripped your face in his hands, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You need to calm down, darling, you’re on fire.” He said calmly.

You looked down at your hands to see green flames licking your skin. You jumped back out of Alastor’s grip. “No. No. No.” You repeated to yourself under your breath, trying desperately to smother the flames.

The demon tried again to reach out for you, but you held up a hand and backed away. “Don’t touch me.” You snapped.

He froze right on the spot, his look of concern melting into cold steel. “I’m only trying to help.”

“Don’t!” You held a finger up to him. “I don’t need your help. I didn’t ask for it.”

Both his eyebrows rose in surprise, “Oh? Come now, darling, there’s no need to be mean.”

You needed to get away from him. You snapped your fingers, and a portal to Hell appeared. Alastor’s look of surprise was not lost on you.

You were far, far more powerful than he thought.

He raised an eyebrow in question, staring at the cracks in reality surrounding the portal. “Keeping secrets, are we? What happened to our quid-pro-quo, darling?”

Your heart cracked. You couldn’t tell him. Not because you didn’t trust him but because you were afraid. He wouldn’t understand. He would never look at you the same again.

And he'd kill you in a heartbeat.

You didn't know what would be worse, seeing the look of betrayal flash across his face or him actually stabbing you in the heart with a Carmine blade.

You sniffed, tears threatening to spill, "I... I'm sorry. I can't..."

“Apparently,” he mumbled. “Well,” he summoned his microphone, twirled it behind his back, and nodded to you. “Don’t let me keep you waiting.”

His look of disbelief had been replaced with his mask, the same look reserved for everyone else but you - the Radio Demon persona. Something in his gaze made you realize the cavern you had created between the two of you - the silent battle waged between you by simply denying him the truth.

And to Alastor, the truth was everything. You had promised. Yet, here you are breaking it a mere days later.

It didn't go against your contract, technically. The information didn't benefit you both, but he didn't know that.

You practically ran through the portal, closing it behind you, when you heard Alastor step through. You dashed up the steps and flung yourself into your room and onto your bed in a heap of sobs.

The door rattled off his hinges, swinging to reveal Rolf waiting for you on the precipice. The shadow looked devastated as he desperately tried to enter the room, but the wards you put up after Angel’s incident still held. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't getting in.

And when he finally realized that, a look of hurt spread across his face which had your heart breaking all over again.

“What the fuck,” Angel appeared in the doorway, sidestepping the shadow. Realizing the situation, he quickly closed the door and collected you in your arms.

You sobbed as the spider demon held you...

Translate the last line of French, I dare you. (I'm also lowkey so curious to know ya'll's theories)

*Shave 'em Dry bu Lucille Bogan is considered one of the most scandalous and lewd jazz songs of the 1930s: Link

** Yes, this is a Vampire Diaries reference! Same hotel, too.

-> Chapter Eleven

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost @beelz3bub

@fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

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ohimsummer · 9 months ago

Text

you wake up in an AIRPORT…

— mentions of death, an interpretation of limbo/the afterlife??, poly! stsg x reader, slight angst (comfort ending), this is a bunchhhh of word vomit so not proofread (prob a lil nonsensical too) idrc :3

there are bright lights when your eyes flutter open, and you’re originally left with the vague thought of ‘when did I go to sleep?’.

thinking on it harder, you recall a calm sensation of fading away, even though everything around you was anything but; raging blue oceans which lulled you to sleep, the frantic tone of a usually collected voice, and the suffocating feeling of being squeezed. someone begging you not to close your eyes but you were just so tired. surely a little nap couldn’t hurt? so you go to sleep, and wake up in an airport.

you chalk it up to just being a dream, even though everything is so vivid and real. the entire building is empty, void of any life besides decorative plants and yourself. speakers murmur out song lyrics, ones that don’t even reach the walls of the room but you can’t seem to make them out, anyway. it’s strange, and a little creepy; it feels like a liminal space.

time passes, though you only know that due to the hands of the clock. daytime never seems to end. you grow to miss the sunsets, sunrises, the company of other people. you miss your boyfriends, suguru and satoru, and your friends, shoko and utahime and nanami. you wonder how they’re doing and if they’re okay. where are they? how long are you going to be stuck in this airport?

haibara is the first person you meet in a while. he’s the same as when you last saw him: wide, gleaming eyes that hold such eagerness and enthusiasm, accompanied by a big, welcoming smile. he walks through the door and those big, brown eyes light up at the sight of you.

“l/n!”, he greets you with open arms, engulfing you in a hug. “i can’t believe it’s you!”

his company is welcome, you’re glad to finally have someone here with you. haibara livens things up for a while, trails behind like a loyal dog to accompany you around the building. you show him around this place, every nook and cranny you’ve long memorized since coming to inhabit here. the gift shop where you can now name every single item, the various cafes and restaurants with food that never seems to spoil, though hunger leaves you be, anyway.

more time passes. nothing changes, but haibara never seems to grow bored, always excited to talk about something or other. he’s talking about shoko and gojo and geto and he mentions how they haven’t really been the same since a mission from a couple years prior, due to someone dying. you realize what you’re doing here now. and it sucks, it makes your stomach hurt, but now he’s chattering about the dessert he ate with nanami the day before he arrived here, and you can’t bring yourself to ask about further details relating to yourself.

one day, your heart threatens to leap out of your chest. haibara has wandered off to look for something to do, so he misses the next guest who enters. but you don’t. and you watch suguru walk through.

familiar, violet eyes widen at the sight of you, and neither of you speak as he approaches. it’s slow, cautious, almost like he’s afraid you’ll run away if he reaches you too quickly. he looks older than when you last saw him. hair a little longer, body a little more matured. eyes a little more tired.

“mind telling me what you’re doing here so early, sir?” you tilt your head at him, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips.

he returns your grin. a hand rubs through his longer, black mane, other one tucked into his pocket, and he looks away before answering, “i maybe fucked up. just a little.”

you pat the spot beside you. “okay, suguru, come tell me about it.”

and he does tell you about it. explains his reasons, his motives, your death playing a huge part in the decision. his endgame, his loss, his last conversation with satoru. part of you is regretful and heartbroken that gojo’s alone out there now. another—selfish—part of you is elated that at least one of them is here with you again.

“there’s a plane outside.” suguru points it out through the huge, towering windows. he’s silent afterwards.

“yeah.” you sigh. “i don’t want to get on, yet.”

he hums, tightens his laced fingers through yours. there’s a silent agreement between you two, one to keep waiting for as long as it takes.

nanami joins you three next. he doesn’t look confused like you did when you first arrived, just resigned. there’s a change in his expression at the sight of you, and suguru, and haibara. like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. he gives you two a short greeting before haibara is swooping him away to show him around the airport, departing with a smile and a wave as the boy begins talking his ear off. nanami looks at peace.

“he’s taking forever.” you giggle, leaning a head on suguru’s shoulder.

“well, you don’t want him in here too quickly, do you?” geto tilts his own head to rest atop yours, black strands tickling your nose. he’s good at masking his own anticipation.

the clock ticks again, and you and suguru wait patiently in each other’s company. sometimes you two grow bored and opt to nibble on the various treats or food in the surrounding stores. or try on the different clothing adorning the racks inside the gift shops. never too far, always within view of that main area and the entrance. watching, waiting for your third piece.

it feels like ages before anyone else arrives. geto’s about to doze off in your lap before you’re patting him awake, nudging his shoulder and he can just feel this sense of urgency in your actions.

“well, look who finally decided to show up!”

there is a familiar laughter that follows your statement. suguru’s eyes find the source immediately, a snowy-haired young man casually waltzing towards you both with hands tucked into his pockets.

“sorry to keep my darlings waiting for so long.” gojo leans down to give you a peck on the lips, and then geto another on the forehead. “must’ve been pretty boring without your favorite person here.”

geto sighs, sits up. “maybe a little.”

satoru’s grin widens. “aww, see, i knew you guys missed m—!”

he’s cut off by both of you grabbing at his arms, tugging him forward to sit between you two. his hands move to wrap around either of your waists, pulling you both in as you pepper kisses on his cheek and geto nuzzles into his collar.

“we did miss you, satoru.” you whisper against his skin. you can’t tell if the wetness is from his tears or yours. “took you long enough to get here.”

he presses a kiss to your nose. “are you saying you wanted me to die sooner?”

“whatever it takes.” suguru teases him.

gojo pouts at him. “oh you guys suck.” but the tender look in his eyes disagree.

the airport has a new feel to it now. like you’ve overstayed your welcome at someone’s home.

“let’s get on the plane.”, satoru gazes at the huge aircraft out on the runway. “what are we still doing here?”

“you don’t wanna look around before we go?” your steps are staggered beneath gojo’s heavy weight on your body. “and god, you’re just as clingy as I remember.“

“i think i have a right to be.” he doesn’t say more, but you understand where he’s coming from. if he or suguru had died in your arms, you’d be melting into them too when you reunited.

“there’s lots of sweets in the shops.,” suguru mentions. “wanna at least grab some before we go?”

that grabs gojo’s attention, and he sprints into the nearest gift shop to stuff his pockets full. they’re comically large at the end of his rampage, lumpy and bulging and he’s adamant on filling both you and suguru’s pockets as well.

“oh, come on, you have so much space in there!” gojo chases geto, leaving a trail of candy behind as the other tries to protect his empty pockets. “get back here!”

“get the hell away from me, satoru!”, suguru laughs behind him, and their shenanigans make you giggle. it feels like centuries since you’ve last had this, the privilege of seeing their silly antics and being in their company, hogging their embrace like you’ll have to leave them again. but this is it. now it’ll never end.

tagz: @staryukis @anthoosies @hellkaiserinphoenix @astral-hydromancy @flvffybunny @exinqiu @luvr-exe @reallifepearl @purplegemadventures @roseqzpd @sataraxia @trafalgarrattata @snackeyalleyjuice @apatauaia @leilalilox @getouolgy @elleflying07 @ha-zel-art @ratedrrrr @mynahx3 @ivy-vivii @squishies0102 @peachyaone @kayleegomez @zzzlevislothzzz @starsharkz @manic-bongwater @froggkat @idkluvv

#poly stsg #stsg x reader #⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ summy is thinking . . . ｡⋆

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thevanillerose · 1 month ago

Text

BUBBLEGUM BLUE | GRIMMJOW x READER | BLEACH

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators.

Content Warning: Grimmjow swearing a f*ck-ton / Violence / Captivity / Unhealthy relationship / Stockholm Syndrome

Maybe a man like that couldn't be trusted. But in a place like Hueco Mundo...and while you were still a prisoner...you wanted any kind of goodness you could get.

Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that the 6 foot menace was nothing but a monster. Not only was his figure intimidating, he simply didn't seem to care too much for anyone.

He was sadistic, psychotic and rude. Pity you had to be in a cell where this guy was hanging around, right?

But...no...you definitely saw something else in him that kind of made him likable. It was strange, though you could believe that it might just be superficial. He was handsome and that certainly carried its own brand of aesthetic appeal. Beyond that though...every time he walked past the bars that you were trapped behind, you were allured by him. He stood out like azure among the others.

Being here was scary, but whenever you caught a glimpse of the man with a half mask on his face, you felt a little more relaxed. It was like a breath of fresh air.

Things got infinitely more interesting when he started stopping by to talk to you. He had been noticing your staring more and more, and eventually he confronted you one day, walking right up to the iron black bars and gripping them so hard and so abruptly that they vibrated.

“HEY!”

His shout startled you out of sleep in the simple bed you had been given. You jolted up from the mattress, and upon seeing him standing there, hurriedly fixed your bed head while simultaneously making your way over. “S-sorry sir, I was asleep.”

His cat-like eyes narrowed from his side of the bars. As soon as you came close enough his slightly tan hand reached through and snatched your plain white prisoner collar, yanking you forward to where you thudded against the metal, and he could lean in nose to nose.

There was a big, malevolent grin on his face while he talked to you. “I see you looking at me every time I walk through here. What the fuck is up with that, huh? You tell me.”

Was it strange that your heart wasn't beating entirely out of fear right now? Being held so close to him like this...even if some obstacles were in the way, even if the context was twisted, it still... ...It still made you a little flustered.

He must have noticed too. The crimson blush growing on your cheeks. “What the fuck are you reacting like that for!?” “I--!” you struggled to explain it, because even you didn't entirely know. “I just...I thought you looked interesting...” “...Interesting?”

“-And your hair, it's blue, like um...” This was going to sound dumb. “Like...like bubblegum.”

“Pssht-!” Grimmjow scoffed and laughed in your face, before pulling just a little tighter on your shirt. He was so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath when he spoke, lightly dusting over your already red cheeks. “...Do you have a crush on me or something?”

Now...that did give you reason to pause. Did you? A crush...on Grimmjow of all people...a man whose name you only knew because of passing conversations...who you were now talking to for the very first time.

Could that be the case? Really?

...It actually seemed likely, as crazy as it was to consider.

“...I...might...” you admitted, to which his eyes widened. For once he dropped his cocky smile, but it was only a hot minute before it was back again in full force. He looked kind of delighted, in a sickening way. “Oh that's cute...the prisoner has a little crush on me. So what, do you think you're gonna be let go just because of that? Are you gonna try and soften me up or something?”

That had never been your endgame, nor had you imagined it would happen either. It was impractical to even consider, to be quite honest. There was no way you were going to be allowed to leave. You were stuck in this cage indefinitely, and who knew what would ultimately happen to you?

But...perhaps the fact that you were essentially doomed gave you the confidence boost to just come out and say these things that would usually be kept quiet.

“I just think you're...cool...and handsome...even if I don't really know who you are. I've only seen you walking past here quite often...”

Grimmjow was trying not to show it, but he was actually a little startled. Were you out of your mind? Or were you being legit right now?

“...You must be nuts. I could kill you on the spot if I wanted to...”

His hand suddenly swapped holding your collar for your neck instead, nails digging in sharply, his grip completely encapsulating your gullet. Your own hands shakily raised to touch his wrist. He felt so much larger than you, so much more dominant.

“The only thing stopping me from doing that is the fact that we need you right now. But if you weren't necessary to keep around...” Grimmjow lowered his voice to a menacing whisper, “-You can't even begin to imagine what I'd do to you.”

His hand loosened, and you fell limply to the floor, collapsing on your knees. With another cocky scoff, he simply turned away from you and walked down the hallway again, leaving you there...

…

Yet that wasn't the last time he visited you. Far from it.

In fact, he started to come by more and more often. Grimmjow would walk up to the other side of the bars and talk to you, often as roughly as expected, and sometimes he would treat you that way too. On more than one occasion he threatened to come inside and rough you up because you kept insisting your feelings were true, but it was a long time before the incident when he actually did it.

This blue haired boy was ruthless, and so at first you wondered if he might be here to kill you. If that was so, then perhaps it was merciful. Better to lay eyes on the one you liked most one more time before the end. You'd rather die by his hand than anyone else's here.

But...Grimmjow wasn't here for that.

It was weird. You were so annoying, always gazing up at him with those big eyes and coming out with the sappiest shit. He could be strangling you near to death and you still seemed to be enamored with him. Why? He had no idea.

However...he started to find himself becoming the same way with you. His touches eased up and became gentler. His language was still crude but he didn't speak so harshly to you anymore. He started to ask more and more questions about who you were and what kind of life you'd had before, even if he would always shrug it off at the end and pretend like he never cared to know the answer.

So he wasn't here to kill you. Instead, he advanced towards you, with another idea in mind. He wanted to see how you would react when he did this.

“...You say you're in love with me, right?” Pausing as you processed his question, you then clasped your hands before yourself and nodded sheepishly. “Mm.” “Heh.” Grimmjow reached you. Looking back up at him, you could see he was grinning ear to ear. Nothing new there. “I think you must be more of a psycho than me.”

“What do y--”

He cut you off, or more specifically, his lips did. The kiss was sudden and firm, and his large hand curled around the back of your neck to make sure you wouldn't break away from it. Not that you were going to anyway. His kiss was cold...but you liked it.

Your hand reached up and touched that hair you liked so much, tousling those pastel strands and holding onto a few. You wanted him to know you were into it, so that maybe he might do the same thing again in the future. Kiss you like this...

His tongue was warm. It pushed into the confines of your mouth and he bit down on your own, entangling you in that sort of a romantic embrace, while his hands clutched you on the outside.

Your eyes closed.

People could call you crazy. That was fine.

Being a prisoner to a person like this...

...It wasn't so bad.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS!

#writing #romance #xreader #writingcommissions #readerinsert #writing commissions #fanfic #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #bleach grimmjow #grimmjow x reader #bleach #bleach tybw #vanilleworks #vanillerose #vanille

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h0nkch0c0late · 1 year ago

Text

Tommy Slater

The long awaited last part is here!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part four (you're here!)]

Summary: Y/n and the group finally come face to face with the Shadyside killers and Nick.

Warnings: blood, death, it's the endgame now, swearing, Y/n being a badass, grief finally ends, angst

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Then, the bells that Ziggy hung up on the entrance doors rang out, indicating that someone had entered, causing the three to scamper away to a nearby counter, hiding behind it and going absolutely silent, the only thing they could hear was their own breathing.

------------------------------------------------------

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she tried to block out the pounding noise of her heart from her ears, adrenaline pumping through her like a drug as she prepared herself for what was going to happen next.

She knew exactly what she wanted to do to nick. She wanted to make him suffer, make him feel the same pain she felt when she lost her boyfriend and her best friends.

But that wasn't the plan that she, Ziggy, and the teens had planned and she knew that. And as much as she wanted to, she couldn't stray from it.

So she sat there, nerf gun full of Deena's watered down blood still in her hands, clutched tightly to her chest as she waited for the perfect moment.

"I don't see anyone." Deena whispers, gasping.

Josh's eyes widen, furiously tapping Deena, gaining the attention of the two women, "I see Martin and Ziggy!"

Y/n eyes Ziggy and Martin carefully as they run across the mall to their desired location, hiding behind a wall.

Y/n flinched as a voice rang out, catching Ziggy and Martin, "Police! Hands up! Hands up!"

As Martin and Ziggy's voices merge together as they both frantically try to explain the situation (well, Ziggy was, Martin was trying to get him to leave), the police man scoffs as he realizes the man in front of him was Martin.

Meanwhile, there was another police man, his radio going off.

Y/n could hear it, clear as day, as he began to creep closer to the three. Whilst Josh and Deena were looking one way, she was looking the other, spotting the flashlight before the man stopped in front of them, frantically telling them to freeze as Deena and Josh turned around.

All three of them put their hands up in defense, waterguns still in their hands.

"I got three more over here!" He yelled, most likely to his partner (obviously).

Y/n was calm, well, minus the frantically beating heart due to the current situation they were in that involved them ALL dying.

"Drop your weapon!" He yelled at them, pointing his gun towards them.

"Sir, if you could just let us explain-" Y/n tried, but he ignored her, continuing to tell them to drop their weapons.

Making final glances at the two kids with a nod, they put their waterguns down in sync, keeping one of their hands up in the process.

"Slide it to me." He ordered, to which they did immediately.

Everything was stopped when they heard screaming from the direction of Ziggy and Martin, and the other police man began to run in their direction, leaving the other three behind.

The culprit of the murder was the Milkman, and he had just killed the other police officer as Y/n, Josh, and Deena ran to their next place for the next phase of their plan.

Once Deena told Josh to be careful, Y/n returned the gesture to the girl before splitting up, Y/n making her way to her own door.

This entire time, she hadn't taken a single breath, her eyes moving between the different places of Ziggy, Josh, and Martin. She hoped that nothing would go wrong, but something in her gut told her otherwise.

She eyed the killer tbay was going towards her door, it was Ruby Lane.

And, just like clockwork, each door went down, trapping their individual dead serial killers, tying the ropes, and running.

When Y/n looked over to Ziggy, she quickly noticed the door that didn't close all the way.

Her eyes widened when she realized which one Ziggy was dealing with, and quickly ran over to help her.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Y/n mumbled under her breath as she began to tug and pull at the door along with Ziggy. They finally got it down just as The Nightwing Killer got there, hitting the shutters.

Ziggy ran almost immediately, but Y/n couldn't help but stand there, staring at the dead man with a bag over his head.

The man she used to call her lover. The man whose name used to be Tommy Slater. The guy who used to be sweet and caring, and wouldn't hurt a soul. Turned into a ruthless serial killer all because of Nick Goode.

Part of her was tempted to reach inside, thinking that if she just touched him, maybe something like a miracle would happen, and her Tommy would come back to her.

But that wasn't the case, and she knew it. Her Tommy was gone. Dead. Thrown away. Replaced by a soulless dead murderer.

So, she tore her eyes away, finally deciding to run and join Ziggy.

As she caught up to the redhead, Ziggy noticed the distant look in her eyes, "Hey, are you alright?" She whispered.

Y/n shakes the thoughts of Tommy out of her head and looks towards Ziggy, "Other than the fact we're dealing with multiple dead serial killers due to Goode and his bloodline? Yeah, I'm fine." She sighed.

Ziggy knew better, but she didn't pry. She knew exactly what was on Y/n's mind, and she felt horrible.

All those years, blaming the witch, blaming Tommy for her sister's death, when all along it was the man she thought she could trust.

What she didn't think about was the pain that Y/n had been all these years. What Nick had done to her by turning her boyfriend into a monster. All these years not blaming her, but resenting her. Having conversations over the phone like none of it happened and then suddenly not talking at all.

------------

"How many is that?" Deena asked her brother, along with him replying as Ziggy and Y/n entered.

"Five." Y/n responded simply.

"We have five." Ziggy followed.

"Skull mask,"

"Nightwing."

"Ruby."

As they continued to talk, Martin quickly shushed them with a series of loud "Yo"'s.

"Why'd it get so quiet?" He asked, eyes wide.

They all looked at each other before abruptly standing up, staring over the counter of the pizza place, looking towards the tree in the middle of the mall.

As they all hid behind the counter again, Ziggy began to breathe heavily, "it's him."

"You don't have to do this." Deena informed the woman, Y/n butting in with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Not alone, at least. I can go with you." She told, a reassuring glint in her eyes.

But Ziggy knew better. She knew that if Y/n were to go with her, she would deviate from the plan, make things worse.

Ziggy's eyes moved to Deena, "Yes, I do." She then looked to Y/n, "and no, you're not going with me. You know that's a horrible idea."

She then stood up and crawled over the counter, Y/n tempted to follow her, but Deena held her back as they all watched.

"Mount up." Deena asserted, getting up and going to her place, Sam grunting in zombie-like anger.

For a moment, Y/n had almost forgotten Sam was there, and one by one, the group began to disperse into their places.

----------------------------------------------

Well, the plan was completely fucked anyways. No fault of Ziggy, or Y/n, or anyone.

Nick now had Ziggy in his grasp, threatening Deena to get the killers away from him as they began to surround him, pointing his gun towards them, though he knew it was pointless.

The only reason the plan was fucked was because he got a hold of Ziggy, but that was quickly dealt with when Nick was stabbed in the back by Skull Mask.

Then, the Milkman had managed to grab Ziggy as she was running away, due to the fact that she now had Deena's blood on her.

Y/n's eyes widened as Josh pointed out the obvious reason to Deena, telling her that her blood got on the redhead.

"Shit!" Y/n cursed as Deena rushed over to help.

Before she knew it, Deena was cutting open her palm, causing a distraction for the monsters to come get her.

Unfortunately, that meant that Skull Mask's attention was ripped away from Nick, which let the horrid man escape.

"Deena!" Y/n yelled, "go after him!"

Josh was also yelling at his sister to go after Goode, "we got him!"

As Deena ran towards Nick's direction, the other three went into a random store, Ziggy throwing her shirt towards the grifter, who was getting closer to them as they closed the shutters.

As much as Y/n was trying to be brave, she could feel her entire body vibrating with fear as she watched the killers closing in.

"Ok," Martin began, "we need a plan B, like, now."

He said as they watched the Grifter pick up the bloody shirt.

"No." Josh said, "we just need more plan A!"

Y/n's eyes followed the Nightwing Killer. If more of the "Plan A" was that they all ran out there and distracted the separate serial killers more, she knew which one she was gonna go after.

Half of her was worried about Deena. She was alone down there with Goode, and with the lack of Ruby Lane being seen now, she was terrified that the dead girl would be going after the very much alive girl.

-------------

As they all ran out and reached for their waterguns, they each chose a serial killer to spray.

The grifter, by Ziggy, Skull Mask by Josh, Milkman by Martin, and the Nightwing Killer by Y/n.

They all hid in another store, hiding behind the window as they huddled together.

"I got that creepy perv motherfucker in the bullseye." Martin smirked. "This is gonna work, right?" He said slightly more worried as the milk man was walking towards them.

Before they knew it, Milkman was getting thrown by Grifter, then the Grifter was attacked by Tom-Nightwing, who was getting attacked by Skull Mask.

The group stood up, looking at the fight with wide eyes as Nightwing's axe was flung to the front of the window they were at.

The plan was working. They were killing each other.

"Guys?" Josh uttered, staring at deathly Sam running in the direction of where Deena and Nick had gone.

Ziggy and Y/n looked at him as he spoke again, "we lost Sam."

"Oh. Fuck." Y/n replied as they watched the doors close.

---------------------------------‐-------------------------

"Right now they're dead, but that's not gonna last. We don't have a lot of time. We have to get ready to fight." Josh ranted as he opened the shutter door.

"Wait." Ziggy said, pulling Josh back, "what is that?"

Y/n swore for the millionth time that night as she looked in the direction of where Ziggy was looking. There, walking and banging his baseball bat against the ground, was Billy Barker. Another dead serial killer. Great.

He then began to bang on the candy machines, and suddenly they heard Ruby Lane's distant singing. She was back.

Y/n was thankful she hadn't gone after Deena after all.

"Ok. OK. You know what?" Martin began as he backed up, grabbing his watergun and pumping it, "at least we still have magic blood." He went to spray it, but nothing came out. He sighed, "I'm tapped."

Ziggy and Y/n went after theirs, both trying and failing. "Me too." Ziggy replies.

"Motherfucker. Really?" Y/n groaned as she threw down her empty watergun.

"No, no, no!" Josh began frantically, "we can find other weapons! W-we can use the delivery hallway, outflank them!" He stuttered, "W-We-"

He was cut off my Martin suggesting to wait it out.

"What?" Josh replied in disbelief, "No, no! No, we're too close! Too many people have died, and I'm not letting them take my sister, too! We have to protect her."

Ziggy and Martin looked away from him as Y/n stared, heart breaking at the kid's pleads. He even said please.

Y/n looked around at the other two adults in the room, who seemed to have given up.

She shook her head, taking a deep breath and moving to Josh's side, putting a shaky hand on Josh's shoulder. "The kid's right. We can't give up now. There must be some other thing that we can do to stop them. I'm not letting anyone else die today, not when we're so close to the finish line. So, either you help come up with an idea, or you stay here like cowards whilst I run out there like an idiot to be a distraction. Your choice."

When the two stayed silent, she made her way out of the store, picking up Tomm-Nightwing's axe and gripping it tightly as Josh and the other two followed her, standing near the store entrance.

She took a deep breath, glancing at Josh and nodding at him before standing up and beginning to walk.

She knew it was stupid. She could get herself killed by doing this, but she had to. Someone had to be the brave adult and sacrifice, and she wasn't about to let Josh do it.

She could see the eagerness in his eyes when she had picked up the axe. She knew that he wanted to yank it from her grasp and do it himself, but she couldn't let that happen. Because if Deena survives, Josh has to as well.

She's not letting another kid grow up without a sibling. She can't stand there and watch helplessly.

---------------------------------------------

She spotted Ruby Lane first, her breathing unsteady as her heart began to beat fast in her chest once more, her grip on the axe as tight as can be.

Josh watched, repeating the ultimate cheat code under his breath. Though he had only spent a short time with the woman under deathly circumstances, he wanted her to come out of this alive. After everything she had been through, she deserves a good ending. One where she doesn't have to grieve, or worry, or get angry over.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n swings the axe into Ruby's shoulder, knocking her down and spraying blood everywhere.

She swings again, but misses and hits the wall, giving Ruby a chance to turn around and swing her blade into the woman's side, slicing it and making her cry out.

Ruby had gotten the hold over her, grabbing at her face trying to tear it apart.

Thats when Josh rushed over without a thought, grabbing the abandoned axe and swinging it into Ruby, making her let go of Y/n.

Unfortunately, it meant that Ruby's attention was now on Josh, and she got a hold of him, doing the same thing to her.

She wanted to help him, but Josh yelled at her to run, so holding her side, she began to limp away, forgetting about the discarded axe.

As Josh was yelling "get off of me!" And trying to avoid Ruby's blade with a now injured shoulder, she was shot through the head.

As Ruby fell, Y/n and Josh looked to see Ziggy holding a gun, and Martin beside her.

"That's one." She pointed out.

-----------------------------------------------------

The three were now standing side by side, Y/n holding her side whilst Josh held his shoulder, Ziggy pointing her gun towards the enclosing killers.

Ziggy shot Billy twice, though it had no affect due to his mask being in the way, and as she went for her third shot, all the gun did was click. She was out.

"I'm...that's it!" She cried out, and Billy began walking towards them again, banging his bat against the ground as he did so.

Meanwhile, Ruby was finally getting up, glaring at the group as she slowly raised from the ground.

----------------------------------------------------

Suddenly, Y/n found herself being tackled by Nightwing, the others distracted by the other serial killers.

She struggled under him, he had his axe back.

As she looked at him, she could see the faint outline of his face from behind the mask, his axe raising to hit her.

She felt herself pleading to him, begging him not to do it, as if he'd listen.

She called him by his name over and over, "Tommy. Tommy please!", "Tommy don't!", "Tommy, this isn't you!"

She knew he couldn't hear her. He was long gone, nothing but a puppet made for Goode's terrible intentions.

But still, she called him by his name. She cried, and screamed, feeling her throat getting raw.

And for a moment, she swore she saw him pause, like for that singular second, her boyfriend had returned.

Or maybe it was her mind playing tricks on her due to the adrenaline and fear running through her veins. Even so, the axe began to swing down.

So, she closed her eyes, waiting for the searing pain of the axe slicing through her flesh, waiting for darkness to swallow her whole for eternity.

But, it never came.

And suddenly, she heard cheering.

As she opened her eyes, Tommy Slater, the Nightwing Killer of '78, was no longer on top of her. And the axe, no longer a threat to her life.

Deena had done it. All of the killers were gone, and so was Nick Goode.

She shot up, slightly disoriented as she looked in the direction of Ziggy, Martin, and Josh.

They all had gigantic grins on their faces as they quickly moved to her, Ziggy helping the woman up and immediately hugging her.

"She did it." Ziggy cried out happily as she gripped onto her old best friend. The girl she relied on when she couldn't rely on her sister all those years ago.

Y/n smiled, hugging the girl back as she pretended she wasn't in a huge amount of pain, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Some part of her felt a tinge of sadness, though, at the thought of never seeing Tommy again.

But the other part of her was relieved. And happy, and that feeling of guilt began to wash away.

--------------------------------------------------------

Y/n entered her home with a sigh of relief, excited about the fact she could finally take a shower after the stressful (and almost deathly) night she had.

As she walked into her room to gather her first aide kit (she didn't want to bother going to the hospital) as well as some new clothes, she spotted the photograph that she had abandoned on her bed.

She smiled as she walked over and picked it up, staring at the blurry photo of Tommy, hugging it close.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, opening them as she exhaled, and walked over to her dresser that was littered with several similar photos from her days at camp.

She placed it between the photo of her, Ziggy, and Cindy, and the photo of her, Alice, and Artie. Completing the collection.

She stepped back, a fond and gentle smile replacing her normal one as she finally looked at them without feeling grief.

As she turned to go dress her wound, she could've sworn she felt something cold touch her shoulder.

She shrugged it off as just blood loss, and closed her bedroom door.

--------------------------------------------------------

YOUVE REACHED THE END!!! YAY!!!

After years of me putting this fic off, it is finally done. And yes, it's a little long, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Also, I'm aware I kinda made Y/n steal Josh's thunder near the end there, but I needed to for plot reasons 😃👍

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed, and if you'd like to see more of this type of stuff in the future, please please PLEASE like, comment, reblog, and maybe even invade my ask box!

Love you all, bye-bye <3333

@pixla I'm throwing you back into the Fandom I apologize ilysm

#x reader #imagine #fear street #angst #fear street 1666 #tommy slater #fear street 1978 #fear street x reader #tommy slater x reader

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chaifootsteps · 4 months ago

Note

In my ideal world, Baxter x Sir Pentious would have been endgame. I mean, i’m pretty sure they are canonically, or at least originally meant to be, ex creative partners, and we all know what THAT means.

They were two of Hell’s most brilliant inventors, but they could never quite manage to make it big. They worked behind the scenes, making a living by providing weapons, elixirs, and the like to big gangs and overlords. They were also both secretly in love with the other, but never voiced their feelings, Pen because his deep seated insecurities and low self-worth made him believe it was impossible for anyone to love him, and Baxter because he didn’t know how to deal with or process his emotions, and didn’t want “matters of the heart” to get in the way of his work.

Baxter never cared much about fame or notoriety, in fact he much preferred to fly under the radar. Pen however was always desperate to find his place in the world, somewhere he could belong and have his achievements appreciated. Overtime he became bitter, and started insisting that he and Baxter should use their inventions to get themselves power and notoriety. This created a rift between them that eventually led to them going their separate ways, and eventually becoming rivals.

Baxter ends up staying at the hotel, which of course causes issues when he finds out Pen is there too. They of course start fighting constantly, and trying to one-up each other. But of course they can’t help but admire each other’s work, and keep end up getting along by accident.

After a while, they form a begrudging friendship, which progresses as the show goes on. This culminates when one late night, Pen drunkenly admits he always held a candle for Baxter, but never had the confidence to tell him. After hearing this, Baxter becomes withdrawn and nervous around Pen, fighting with his inner turmoil and the feeling he doesn’t want to face.

Pen of course assumes he has offended Baxter and ruined their friendship once again. He feaks out, and ends up leaving the hotel without telling anyone, causing Charlie and the others to panic because they actually give a shit about him in this version.

Baxter tracks him down, finding him in their old shared lab/house, now abandoned and run down. The two of them have an honest conversation, in which Pen admits that his fear of being an outcast and his desire for love and acceptance has caused him to sabotage the relationships in his life (and death i guess) that actually mattered, but that the time he’s spent with Baxter and the others in the hotel has helped him to value the place in the world he does have? instead of the one he wants.

In turn, Baxter confides in Pen how his experience as an outcast has lead him to become jaded and closed off, and gave him the mindset that trusting or caring about anyone will only ever be detrimental to him. He also admits that his time in the hotel, especially his relationship with Pen, has challenged that worldview, and finally tells Pen that he has feelings for him.

Sorry if this is too cringe or fanfictiony, Idk man, I just have a soft spot for men with emotional issues and mad scientists.

I just want them to be autistic4autistic evil husbands 😭

No, not the slightest bit too cringe or fanfictiony! Hell, you want to talk cringe, my Sir Pentious OTP will always be Pentious/my late Hazbin OC, which is why I never liked Pen/Baxter back in the day.

But lately, it's been growing on me. Pentious shipped with anyone who didn't stand idly by while he was sexually assaulted is fine by me.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post

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lady-rose-moon · 1 year ago

Text

What happened after the game || Tom Hiddleston x Reader || 18+ ||

a/n: well hello my lovelies! I was inspired by Hiddleston playing on Sunday and wrote this as quickly as I could! By now, I'm sure we've all watched it or at least seen photos of our man this weekend so I am here to gift you this before someone else does!

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ↬ 1.5k

My Main Masterlist

a/n: duly noted, sir

Getting back from the football match, you sighed in relief as you slid down the door to your hotel room. Tom was just ahead of you, still slightly breathless from his time on the pitch. You smiled as you watched your husband swipe away some sweat beading on his brow before he met your eyes and released a soft chuckle.

“What a match,” he spoke softly, standing straight and striding over to you, picking you up and laughing when you whined and pouted. “Come on, my darling,” he spoke jovially with a grin, “we celebrate tonight.”

“But England lost?” you replied with a tilt of your head, goading Tom into an even brighter smile. You knew he loved to talk about his charity efforts and this would send him into another one of his monologues.

The actor sighed dramatically and shook his head. “Oh, my darling!” he began with a smile, shaking your conjoined hands as he gazed down at you with adoring eyes, “it wasn’t all about the endgame result! It was the money that we earned from doing the match that truly matters! Yes, I would have liked England to have won but we raised so much! Just while I spoke, people donated thousands! I love doing things like these, my dear, it helps me feel like I’m making such a difference.”

“You’ll always make a difference, Tom,” you replied with a smile, stepping closer to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek, watching as his eyes softened and his attention was all yours, “you made a difference to my life the moment we met on the High Rise set.”

Tom chuckled and wound his arms around your waist, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he enjoyed your comfort. “That is true,” he whispered to you, his hands moving down to grab your thighs, “how could I possibly forget? Oh, that’s correct - I never will forget!”

You shrieked as Tom lifted you off the ground as he held the back of your thighs and you melted into laughter and you felt him walking closer to the bed, ending up on the covers moments later with another shriek erupting from your lips. Tom stared down at you with hungry eyes before he crawled onto the bed and towered over you, one of his legs spreading your own legs apart to press his thigh against your core.

The adrenaline seemed to still be running through his veins, that energy that he needed on the pitch not yet dissipated which was a very beneficial thing for you.

“I love you,” Tom whispered with a husky voice, his eyes undressing you hungrily as you wriggled beneath him. The actor leaned down and pressed a deep kiss to your lips, startling you slightly before you wound your arms around his neck and eagerly pressed yourself against him as his hips stuttered.

The two of you pulled away for breath and that is when you sat up with him and began to undress him, watching as his skin was slowly revealed to you. Tom watched you hungrily as you reached out and pressed your palm against his chest, feeling the chest hair beneath your palm and the beads of sweat that still lingered on his body even after drying off. It had been a really hot day in England and you appreciated his dedication to the cause to be able to play in such conditions.

“Darling,” Tom whispered, his hand reading up and lifting your chin with his thumb and index finger until you met his eye before he sealed your lips with another kiss, breaking any thoughts that might have crossed your mind.

It only took a few moments before you were undressed too, your hair pulled up into a bun to get away from the sweat that you knew was going to be produced through the next activity and the rest of you bare for your husband. Your husband eyed you hungrily before he descended and encircled your nipple gently, beginning to lovingly caress it with his tongue as his hand snaked down your body to gently circle your clit.

The stimulation shocked you but you melted into the feeling, relaxing your hips to allow Tom to do whatever he wanted and the man chuckled as he pulled away from your nipple in order to seal your lips in another searing kiss. Tom’s fingers began to speed up the deeper your kiss became, thrilling your body as you fell deeper and deeper into pleasure.

Slowly, you felt Tom sliding his fingers away from your clit and you whined into the kiss before Tom pushed closer to you and pressed his fingers inside you, startling you into releasing a dirty moan into his mouth. His two fingers searched your dripping cunt eagerly, prodding in places that he had learned throughout the years that were your favourite spots and caused you to see stars.

Spurred on by your moans, Tom pulled away and watched as you writhed beneath him, your eyes pulled closed in pleasure as you rode his fingers along with his movements and the actor groaned as he imagined the moment he would be able to sink into you and show you how much he loved you.

“T-Tom,” you moaned blissfully, your eyes pushing open to centre on your husband as he smirked and pushed your legs apart while keeping his hungry eyes on your own, “Please.”

Smirking, the actor took this as confirmation, positioning himself at your entrance before slowly beginning to sink into your dripping pussy. You moaned loud at the mix of pleasure and pain that the action brought and you found that the moment you shared a glance at your husband, all of that pain away and he was bringing you so much pleasure.

After a few moments, Tom began to move and that was when the true pleasure began. He began to get faster, his cock pounding into your pussy with determination to make the both of you feel good. You wound your arms around his neck again, pulling him close to you and allowing him to rest his head in the crook of your neck as he pistoned his cock inside you.

You had done this kind of celebration a great deal with Tom. From movie premieres to visits to UNICEF partnerships to BAFTAs, it had all ended in these… celebrations. Tom found every way to ravish you and show that all of his efforts were for you and the family he wanted with you.

With your mind hazed, you were blinded by the pleasure and undying need to give this man a child, seeing his eyes light up at the idea of pregnancy again, giving little Haven a baby brother or sister. Perhaps it was time for something like that.

You threw your head back and moaned loudly at the idea but did not voice the idea to your husband. Haven was two years old but he had asked that you wait for a little while longer, wanting you to be at your very best for when you have another baby.

Tom saw that you were starting to get hazy so he gently stroked his hand up your chest and gently grabbed one of your breasts, teasing your nipple gently as he eyed you and saw you come back to yourself moment to moment until you were moaning and mewling constantly beneath him. Spurred on by this, he began to move faster, shifting so that he was on his knees and angled his hips in such a way that he knew would make you melt.

Meanwhile, your mind was riddled with pleasure, every morsel of your being spent time loving the man you’d married and moaning his name, your brain focusing on nothing else but his face and your upcoming orgasm.

The tightening of your core signalled to the actor that you were close and he grinned as his hand left your nipple and slid down your body until two fingers settled on your clit and began moving in a circular motion, gradually building up to his pace, guiding you into a blissful orgasm.

When that cord snapped inside you - and boy did it snap - you threw your head back and moaned for the gods to hear as you shuddered through your orgasm, feeling more than hearing Tom reach his orgasm above you.

The moments that followed were full of reassuring kisses and Tom cleaning himself and you up with a damp cloth and another gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” your husband asked when he saw that you were becoming more lucid, “does it hurt anywhere?”

You checked yourself momentarily before shaking your head and smiling at him. “I’m okay,” you whispered, taking his arm and cuddling into him as you yawned.

The actor watched you and chuckled before getting comfy around you, watching you fall asleep slowly before he allowed himself to sleep.

England may have lost but he definitely won that night!

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @evelyn-kingsley @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader smut #tom hiddleston x female!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #smut #soccer aid tom hiddleston #soccer aid 2023 #cuz come on #he definitely did something with Zawe after that|!

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epicstuckyficrecs · 2 years ago

Text

Epic Stucky Fic Rec | February, March & April 2023

I'm alive! 😅 I started making a fic rec for February and March in the beginning of April and then I completely forgot about it... and then by the time I remembered, April was almost done so I figured I'd wait 😆

Should I make a new banner? yes. Will I? Maybe ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Complete

💙 Additional Information series by notlucy/ @notlucy (Modern AU, Coworkers, Sugard Daddy/Daddy Kink, BDSM | Explicit)

Proprietary Information (85K): Okay, so Bucky Barnes has a crush on Steve Rogers. The guy's gorgeous, talented and, oh yeah, the Chief Design Officer of the biggest tech company in the world. In other words: he's so far out of Bucky's league that he might as well be in a different stratosphere.

Preoccupations (6K): Steve doesn't usually pay much attention to the new hires. But there's something about this kid.

Brooklyn's on Fire (4K): Steve's turning thirty-seven and he really only wants one thing for his birthday.

Gimme Danger (6K): Bucky doesn't have time to explore his exhibitionist kink. He's very busy. He asks Steve about it anyway.

Remember You Well (in the Chelsea Hotel) (5K): Steve can't quite believe he has Bucky back. It seems too good to be true after the hell he endured while missing him. The universe, however, is full of surprises.

Close Call (6K): Bucky and Steve make it through two weeks of living together before the inevitable "first fight" of cohabitation. They (mostly) handle it like adults. And the makeup sex is killer, in Bucky's not-so-humble opinion.

To Sir, With Love (10K): Steve recognizes that his jealousy over Bucky's infatuation with one of his professors isn't rational, but that doesn't make it any less real. And, hey, if you can't beat them, join them, right? Besides, he's always wanted a tweed jacket.

Mergers and Acquisitions (41K): Steve and Bucky are going to the chapel, and they’re going to get married. Meanwhile, Peggy and Natasha…

💙 a day in the life by powerfulowl (StuckyFlangst) / @stuckyflangst (Post-Endgame Fix-It, Time Travel, Groundhog Day | 20K | Explicit): Steve Rogers wakes up on Tuesday October 30 1956, and doesn't seem to remember his life that well. Why does every day feel so familiar? And why does he keep getting visited by tall, dark, handsome men who remind him of Bucky?

The Day After, the Aftermath, or Whatever It Is That Feels Like a Hangover, Christmas, and His Birthday All at the Same Time by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (hutchabelle)/ @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy (Modern AU | 1K | Mature): Bucky wakes the day after his thirtieth birthday with a hangover, a hardon, and a beautiful man sharing his bed.

Tell Me I Can Have It All by HaniTrash/ @hanitrash (Stucky in Wakanda | 1K | Explicit): Steve is tired of Bucky trying to push him away after he comes out of cryo in Wakanda. Rehashing the same argument brings up some new information that Bucky can't ignore, and makes him second-guess his decision to keep Steve at arm's length.

I'd Fuck Me by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan, PWP | 6K | Explicit): When unexpectedly given a unique hotel room while on a Marvel press tour, Chris Evans ends up spending his evening alone, yet still making the most of his room... (Part 1 of Fuck This)

I'd Fuck You by fandomfluffandfuck/ @fandomfluffandfuck (Evanstan RPF | 8K | Explicit): Armed with nudes that contain enough raw sexual energy to cause nuclear explosions, Chris decides it's time to fucking blow Sebastian's mind... (Part 2 of Fuck This)

Captain Orgy 69 @ gmail.com by Gfawkes/ @gfawkesphoenixchokingonashes (Evanstan RPF, Friends to Lovers | 12K | Explicit): Or, Chris and Sebastian finally star in that rom-com they've been talking about.

My Heart Belongs to Captain Rogers by lavenderbucky (Canon | 3K | General): Steve wakes up late for his run, wears one of Bucky's shirts in public and goes slightly viral on Twitter. You know. Just an average day in his life.

5 Times Bucky Styled His Hair + 1 Time Steve Did It For Him by lavenderbucky (Post-WS | 8K | Teen): Steve is so happy to have Bucky back. His best friend is a little different to how he was in the 40s, but in some ways he's the exact same. But even if Bucky is his favourite person in the world, and even if Steve thinks his hair is really, really pretty, Steve's feelings for him are completely platonic. Right? Or: a love story, told through Bucky's hair.

WIP

💙 This is (not) a Ghost Story [COMIC] by PottersPink/ @potterspink (Post-WS | 11/31 | General): Steve moves into a haunted house. Well — everyone else is convinced it’s haunted, anyways.

Countermoves by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) (Evanstan RPF, CATFA | 11K | Explicit): Sebastian knows about Chris Evans, has to take his shot when he sees him. Chris doesn’t have a clue who Sebastian is, aside from being a pretty guy he meets in a club. The attraction is instant, and Sebastian takes Chris home, with a little detour or two. Chris thinks it’s just a one-night stand he’ll be thinking about for a long time, cursing himself for not getting the guy’s number. Until a couple of months later, he has the first table read for Captain America: The First Avenger, and he meets him again.

💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra (Canon Divergent, Tentacle Monster Steve | 15/? | 119K | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve’s concerned the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It’s love at first sight.

💙 hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) by buckyismybicycle/ @buckyismybicycle (NHL Hockey AU | 20/? | 63K | Explicit): Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong.

Re-Read

💙 Latte Art and Slow Dancing in the Dark by deadonarrival (Modern AU with powers, Daddy kink | 89K | Explicit): Bucky is a somewhat well-adjusted former army sniper that got his shoulder blown out. He took his discharge and went home to finish school. His best friends and roommates (Nat & Clint) are CIA agents and tip him off that their local Sbux is hiring. He gets a job there and meets none other than the hottest guy on earth. So how does one get a date in the most top secret government location in the US? What happens when that guy is more than just a hot dorito and wants to give Bucky everything he wants?

Now! That’s What I Call 90’s Slow Jams by deadonarrival (Modern AU | 11K | Mature): Steve goes home for the wedding of Becca Barnes and while he’s there he runs into his old crush. Her brother. Except now they are both hot as shit. Oh no whatever will happen.

Brooklyn by togina/ @toli-a (Post-WS | 8,7K | Teen): "Captain America, what’s your stance on gay marriage?“ Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

#stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic rec #weekly recap #evanstan

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inconspicious-random-thoughts · 8 months ago

Note

Your idea of all soul contracts being voided is very interesting and something I've also played around with/considered. It's a major systemic issue that makes life in Hell extremely difficult for those without power (which is most). If Charlie truly wanted to improve life for all sinners, including those who don't want to be redeemed, targeting that system of ownership would be key and I think it'd be a great progression for her character/mission. If Heaven won't play by their own rules, then give Hell the overhaul it needs that improves life for everyone and remove the possibility of soul ownership completely.

I do want to say, with regards to Valentino's behavior, I personally see him showing restraint in some circumstances. Yes, he SAID he wanted to go and shoot up the hotel but after his initial tantrum with the model, he just sat in his room patiently waiting for Vox. I think there is potential to reason with him, but it'd have to be through someone he trusted (Vox and/or maybe Velvette) AND he'd have to be calmed down first to help him move past the pull to impulsivity. He was also able to rein it in pretty well with Charlie even when she was bafooning it up in his studio, on his turf... I just think it would be fascinating to explore the Vees as potential forces/influences of change and how Charlie could incorporate them into her plan. You'd likely have to get them battered down enough to even be willing to negotiate, but end of the day they are business people and I think they can be reasoned with. Even just within exploration of the adult content industry... turnover is extremely high. Maybe Vox/Velvette could be shown the numbers dipping on Angel Dust's popularity and it would then be their job to convince Valentino to drop him. For them, it's money but maybe for Valentino it's power and then that can be explored in their respective character arcs (ie. WHY does Valentino want that power/what is he gaining from it)? There are so many interesting ways you can play with these themes/characters that isn't a boring "Valentino gets stabbed to death" plot point.

So, I really hope the show chooses the more complex exploration of these characters (and gives consideration to their respective backgrounds that may be influencing their decision-making) rather than reducing them to boring cartoon villains (I also hope to GOD they don't betray each other, I love that they have their own little family among the three of them).

Let us see Charlie trying to win them over to her cause. Let us see Charlie challenged with the idea that some people like the life they've made in Hell/don't want Heaven as endgame BUT that doesn't mean they can't improve their practices or help make life in Hell better for all. There's a lot of potential. I think it also really reinforces the main theme that everyone is capable of change.

This is all personal preference/morality, but for me I truly believe that everyone has the capacity to grow. Yes this includes Valentino. If there is "no hope" for some people and no one bothers to reach out because they're deemed irredeemable, then what incentive is there for them to ever get better? Why shouldn't they just become a worse and worse version of themself then, potentially victimizing and harming more people along the way? Approaching Charlie's school of thought where everyone can be redeemed with a plan that focuses on rehabilitating individuals (and breaking down what that means/how that varies person-to-person) is a natural next step. Understanding why someone like Valentino is the way he is, how the system of Hell has contributed to the problem on a societal level, and what tools he should be given to cope/make better decisions in the future WHILE also protecting his victims from additional harm are all critical steps that I think Charlie (and the show) need to start taking more seriously... if their plan is to really explore this idea of redemption, anyway. This would also apply to characters like Sir Pentious and Angel Dust. Everyone is in Hell for a reason, everyone has a past and a laundry list of wrong that needs to be addressed and given care. How many lives did Angel Dust ruin as a mobster? What had Sir Pentious even done prior to his stay in the hotel that landed him in Hell in the first place?

So much potential in all these characters. I really hope the writers really flesh them out. Sorry for going on too long at the end there, your comments just got me thinking.

Exactly. It is a huge systemic issue and if the show been greenlighted multiple season ahead of time, I'm sure there be an a subplot about it. As it something Charlie see how the contracts affect her people greatly and it would be a project she take on to change it. It's a huge undertaking as is basically restructuring the government that been running on the principle for multiple thousands of years. It's just how things are and she wants to change that.

The contracts originally was about a weaker demon seeking out the protection of a stronger demon to keep them safe from the rest of Hell in exchange of servitude. After several thousand years it evolves and got a bit more corrupted but the bases of it still exist. But the protection became more the overlord defending their territory/property.

Obviously the overlords are the ones that will suffer for it, despite it making things harder to the owned souls to exist in Hell and possibly unfair how they obtain it, (But also keep in mind, the deal was consented by both parties, both agreed.) it is unfair to the overlords when it just the the way things are and no warning of a sudden structural change. They are being punished/losing for playing the long game well while playing by the rules of Hell at the time. They were winning at a game and then the host decided it time to change the rules.

The overlords will:

1) lose their compensation after they held up their end of the deal.

2) lose a large if not all chuck of their power and status.

3) most importantly they will become targets after they were forced to give up their power and their numbers that would have defended them. Lets face it, once contracts get voided and overlords losing their power and status, a bulk of sinner will want to retaliate. Attack the overlord that held them or attack another overlord that they felt wrong them and now have the opportunity to do so when they are not overpowered.

This doesn't only effect the big honcho overlords we seen, there be smaller ones...mobs and gangs and what not. But considering the majority of characters we meet are overlords it would be interesting to see how they deal with this as an audience. Probably an overlord meeting about it if they got intel what was being plan and trying to derail it from happening, or a civil war among the overlords on the approach how to deal with it.

If there is a civil war about it, the overlords who still be upset but willing to work with Charlie/Lucifer would be Carmilla, Zestial, Rosie. They just generally to care about Hell and probably treat their souls fairly well. Rosie probably be least affected by it all. She owns souls, but I think her souls will still follow and look upon as a leader even after they been freed, and cannibal town will more or less run the same as it was before. Carmilla and Zestial would probably have a similar situation.

Unname overlord may be included in this.

The Vees will obvious be against it, and Zeezi might be on the undecided side but more on keeping things the way things are. She doesn't seem like she be an overlord to give up her wants and needs in favor for a better society if it can be avoided it.

Alastor will play double agent im sure. He always have like 3 hidden agendas he working at the same time that are his own her other peoples he force to follow. He be annoyed he lose his souls but then again, he would have his own freedom again.

The best possible solution I can think to fixing the infractractor to what Charlie wants, is to wean out the contracts. Creating a clean slate immediately would be problematic. Have the contracts expired in a decade. AND/OR if new contracts can still be made, have there be term limits. A soul can only be bind to a contract for X amount of years then it can be renegotiated or let it null and void. It be a hassle for the overlords for sure as the constantly, and make extra effort on treating souls better for the soul to want to remain under contract/protected while the other try to earn that spot. Possibly a guideline has to be drawn up to have a basic math for length of servitude. If the overlord provide x to the demon, the demon would serve x amount of years.

One thing I wonder is do overlords provide housing and such as part of their protection? Most sinners don't really seem to have jobs to afford housing and food. Most of the sinners we see are working in the guidelines of their contract. So how are they getting money for things? Is being provided with the necessities part of the protection?

But we have to keep in mind, we see how much the people regret their decision on selling their souls. It seem, like most if not all the people who sold their soul regret it. Its nearly common knowledge that its a bad deal to do it...yet...people still do it. They choose to go along and do it regardless thinking they were the special exception. So yes, they are a victim...but at the same time...are they?

I don't think the regret would not be an all time if its limited to a certain amount of years. That if it something they did regret, at least it there's a light at the end of the tunnel and not just a bleak all of eternity experience. Terms limits would at least have both parties put effort into the relationship if they are satisfied with the deal. Both parties have to put effort to want the other to stay in.

Not saying this can be the endgame solution but it can be a start down that path.

You have a point there. Valentino is a violently impulsive but your right, there was some points he did not act out immediately the way he wanted. He had his hissy fit and tore up a model before he sulked waiting for Vox advice. But I did forgot about Val calming down slightly and waiting for Vox. I also forgot about episode 4 completely. Honestly, it makes his character better that he able to reign in some of that impulsive violent nature. It would make the lost of Angel dust contract better. Im sure Val would trash the room the moment he lost is but after thrashing about to calm down he just be seething without acting out on it. Which...I sort of want to see now. I'm sure there still need to put precautions about Val retaliating. Val would want revenge even if he lost the contract fairly. Val would want to send a message hes not someone to fuck with but perhaps he won't actually act upon it like he would want to. At least wouldn't be a blind tantrum rampaging retaliation if he did act out a little.

I just think it would be fascinating to explore the Vees as potential forces/influences of change and how Charlie could incorporate them into her plan. You'd likely have to get them battered down enough to even be willing to negotiate, but end of the day they are business people and I think they can be reasoned with.

True, very true. Vox and Velvette are fairly level headed people. Well, except about Vox isn't when it comes to Alastor.

Which makes me wonder...

If Vox losing his shit about Alastor

Val losing it about Angel

Who makes Velvette lose her shit about? Can't wait for that character to be introduced.

Even just within exploration of the adult content industry... turnover is extremely high. Maybe Vox/Velvette could be shown the numbers dipping on Angel Dust's popularity and it would then be their job to convince Valentino to drop him. For them, it's money but maybe for Valentino it's power and then that can be explored in their respective character arcs (ie. WHY does Valentino want that power/what is he gaining from it)? There are so many interesting ways you can play with these themes/characters that isn't a boring "Valentino gets stabbed to death" plot point.

That would be actually pretty interesting to see. Angel losing popularity. Probably caused by his stay at the hotel. Having the other Vees try to talk Val on not using Angel so much with them going by the numbers and trending.

Actually, Angel being in the hotel might making him almost an embarrassing cringe meme at some point and Velvette and Vox trying to talk Val not using Angel so tarnish their brand. Because they want to be trending in a good way. I don't think Val wouldn't give up the contract because I think Val really likes having Angel around for himself even if Angel not a big income anymore. Maybe Angel becoming a joke and not a money maker Val would hesitantly accept an offer for Angel soul if the payout was big enough.

Even if it not dramatic, I kind of want this play out now. It like the safest and agreeable way to end the terms without much fear of retaliation.

I think it be really sweet way to play out. The hotel residence, and Cherri if she hasn't joined, chip in with everything they have to buy Angel freedom. Lucifer, Charlie and Alastor able to contribute more and possible offer something with more weight like a restricted favor at a given time. Angel would be so grateful and feel so love that everyone did it, that if they felt like a family to him before it only furthered it. It also open up to some Angel angst if favors were offered and the Val request wasn't agreeable to the one giving the favor but has to serve out anyways. Angel would feel so much guilt over it.

I am a huuuuuge sucker for backstory and character growth. I love character growth. Even if they don't grow, I like how we eventually learn of their back stories to understand why they are the way they are. Make you sympathise with them even if you don't agree with their methods.

I hate black and white/ right and wrong anything..I love how everything grey and having that explored. I mean, the vast majority of people are not evil or good for the sheer sake of it. It usually stems from something that propels people in that direction.

My favorite trope is a villian is sort of in the right in their own way but they went about it wrong. Basically the ends justify the means.

(I also hope to GOD they don't betray each other, I love that they have their own little family among the three of them).

That....never crossed my mind. I would feel so betrayed myself if that would happen. I love their little family. But if one would betray, its Velvette. But it better not happen. They need to stick together! Even if I suspect Velvette be the one out of the three to betray, I doubt she will. Phone Case as evidence. Vox and Val phone case is their own personal brand symbols while Valvette is about all three of them. She probably the biggest heart of all of them and makes them stick together.

I been thinking about this exact thing SO MUCH lately. I wanted to make a post about it but didn't end up doing it.

Like, Alastor is a prime example of this. He doesn't want redemption. Giving the life he had, he probably never felt so freeing until he landed in Hell. In life people scampered away or looked away in disgust and hatred because of his heritage, he was taken advantage because of heritage and social standing. He had to hide his identity behind radio to be able to converse freely without judgement and treated equal. The activities he enjoy he had to keep secret. But in Hell? people scamper away out of fear of his power, he can indulge in all his deplorable actives he enjoy. He can force people to listen to him. Hell was freeing for him. It's everything he needs and wants aside not being with his mother. He doesn't want redemption. He doesn't want to give up his fun and entertainment. He doesn't want to give up his power and status. It's Hell, hes going to have his bad days especially with his shackles but overall how he going to enjoy heaven for eternity if he bloodthirsty and enjoys annoying people without receive retaliation?

Even if he makes it to heaven...it be similar to his life on Earth. His power would be equal or lower of the residence of Heaven. They will learn how heinous he once was. They will be disgusted by him and move to the other side of the street to avoid him. He be happy to see his mother...but can he really bring himself to her after...everything? Her having the knowledge of everything because word would get around. She may work past it, but Alastor would feel that her eyes won't look at him the same way as it once before. It pains him greatly. It pains his mother having that knowledge. Heaven not suppose to hurt. He can't have the both of them suffer like that. It's best that she remains in the dark of his deeds because whatever worst case scenario she can dream up about her sweet little boy it wrist slap compared what he actually committed.

He doesn't want redemption...

...but it doesn't mean he can be rehabilitated which I think has already starting to happen. He curb his activities for the image of for the hotel. He hides his particular diet from their eyes to not disgust them. He still gets to indulge and commit murders but now its more reserved for the defence of the hotel and its residents. He always had his own moral code when it came to his murders. But it seem like he hasn't "hunted" since he been at the hotel because he didn't want it getting back to Charlie and disappoint her or ruin the hotel image IMO. So, I think we already seeing Alastor being slowly rehabilitated without him or anyone realizing it. The longer he there the more he going to feel fond with the other residence and continue to change some of his habits for their benefit.

I agree. For Charlie to really move forward with her redemption she needs to start trying to get to the root of the problems. Trust falls isn't going to be the answer. I think she been hesitate because she doesn't want to push boundaries which is a good thing and to extent is working. They feel safe and relatively there's trust and strong bonds....but at the same time...its not solving much either. But progress is progress I suppose no matter what speed.

What had Sir Pentious even done prior to his stay in the hotel that landed him in Hell in the first place?\

Seriously, What did he do?! He such a cinnamon roll.

So much potential in all these characters. I really hope the writers really flesh them out.

There is a lot of potential and I think that what make this show fun! We only know so much about them so it really fun trying to fill in the blanks and figure out their motives. I don't think any of them are meant to be 2 dimensional or plot devices but have several layers. That even the seemingly simplistic character will have complexity. I just hope the show keeps getting renewed so we can be offered everything the creator wanted to give.

Sorry for going on too long at the end there, your comments just got me thinking.

It's okay. It's a delight to know that my rambling can do that. That they might inspire or help someone get creative about the fandom. I only made this blog to just get ideas out of my head of what I'm hyper fixated on which is currently, Hazbin. I didn't really expected anyone would actually read it much less, like or interact with it. I just find it surprising when it happens but brings me joy that my words and thoughts seem to have some meaning to someone.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel theory #alastor the radio demon #hazbin thoughts #hazbin theory #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino #hazbin angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel angel dust #angel dust #the vees #hazbin vees #hazbin hotel vees

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xaden-ride-or-dieorson · 10 months ago

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i get that xaden and violet's declarations of love and how much they care about each other are supposed to be romantic but honestly it is just complete and utter clown behavior. every time xaden says some overdramatic shit like

"I want you more than my next breath."

"Every day I wake up starving for you"

"My heart only beats as long as yours does, and when you die, I’ll meet Malek at your side. It’s a damned good thing that you love me too, because you’re stuck with me in this life and every other that could possibly follow."

"There is no me without you"

"My life, if it even existed beyond yours, would mean nothing without you in it"

"I would rather lose this entire war than live without you"

"I love you, the world does not exist for me beyond you"

"I'd kick his ass for implying there's any other future other than the one where you and I are endgame"

i'm literally just here laughing my ass off. like sir, respectfully, you need to calm the fuck down lmfaoo

and violet is just as insanely overdramatic. these two are perfect for each other, they're both such emotionally stunted overdramatic fucking losers and i love them sooo much

"I’ll die if he makes me wait any longer"

"You’re my gravity. Nothing in my world works without you."

King and Queen of DRAMA! lmaoo

#the empyrean #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #fourth wing #iron flame #rebecca yarros #these two losers are so fucking funny #i don't care if this is supposed to be sweet and romantic it's literally soooooo fucking funny to me #they're both such dorks #such fucking clowns #just insane #listen maybe it's cause im ace but like genuinely they are so funny #i can't take them seriously #i love them both so fucking much

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fandomfluffandfuck · 5 months ago

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I was scrolling through your tags and links last night and i will never stop being SHOOKT of the way you right Steve and Bucky JAHFOWJDORJEI

So I present to you- fresh faced Steve x twunk Sebastian x WS!Bucky

During endgame, they made a joke about the hot tub time machine movie and that implies the existence of one Sebastian Stan in the marvel universe and I'm reminded of that discovery when I read your selfcest drabbles/fics Nghhhhhh

So like, imagine a movie night with the avengers and Steve's all chilling when he suddenly sees the younger face of his dead best friend (ehem lover ehem) on the screen. He loses his shit, quietly, and Steve's captivated, he can't take his eyes off the man in front of the screen, animatedly talking and playing his character

Natasha's the first to notice of course and she quietly tells him that he's just an actor that happened to have an uncanny resemblance with the late sergeant. Steve nods along, heart aching behind where he's squeezing the pillow to his chest. When the movie ends, he returns to his floor and googles Sebastian Stan and basically spends the rest of the night stalking him

Do you see the potential angst!? The 'he doesn't want me as me but because I look like someone he loved' trope on Sebby who falls in love with Steve but can't really act on his feelings bcs he knows he only reminds Steve of his lost love???? Or.... STALKER STEVE AJDBWKRBWOHFIE

as an actor, being stalked is nothing new for Seb but good lord he's never been stalked by a 6'2, blonde man built like a brick houseeeeeeeeee; and his stalkers' weirdly polite and charming too, flowers and chocolate and lots of other gifts-

Then we get the events of the winter soldier and maybe instead of leaving, Bucky stays around stalking Steve and he discovers Steve's massive obsession with this actor who looks exactly like him. Another identity crisis for Bucky because is he even real? Or just another version? What if he was just modelled after this man? He needs to know more about this man

It ends with the two of them stalking Seb, watching from afar, leading to possible dub-con EHEM AHSIWHEUWHIEJRJF

I WANT TO WRITE THE PORN PART BUT I FEEL LIKE IVE GONE LONG ENOUGH ABIUT THIS UGHHHHHH bcs can you imagine poor regular Human Sebastian trying to keep up with two ravenous super soldiers who are nearly twice his size!!? Overstimulation and marathon sex would go crazy!!!!

That's all 😘 hope u have a good day Sir S!!

-🫠🫠

Aw, thank you!! I'm touched 😘

Oh yeah, I always forget about that. Timeline shenanigans are fun, aren't they?

Oh. Oh. But that's devastating. Can you imagine how wrecked fresh-from-the-ice Steve would be? Seeing his lover's face on another man? It would be like being jostled from his sleep by an explosion on TV--his heart races the same. Shit.

The stalking that would go down. Holy fuck. Yeah. Stalking and pining. I can only imagine the hours Steve would spent staring at his laptop screen, longing to reach out and touch his face. He looks so, so similar!

OH I FEEL THE ANGST. But I wasn't thinking about it like that! Oh my fucking god, Sebastian falling for Steve--who wouldn't?--but knowing the whole time that it's not him that Steve wants. Oof. And while Steve's heart is big, maybe he could learn to love Sebastian for Sebastian... that's not going to happen when he's so locked up with grief. He can't move on from Bucky by being with someone who is his twin. All he can do is yearn for Sebastian, who looks so much like Bucky that he can't resist, but doesn't act like him. He isn't Bucky. It hurts. But it's all he has.

Oh my GOD, there's something darkly comedic about Steve becoming a stalker because while my immediate inclination is a stalker in the traditional dangerous, threatening way and not an unwanted, too-intensely-earnest infatuation. Huh. That would be so interesting! And how would Sebastian react to that because Steve is very handsome and sweet but... boundaries. Jesus Christ. They need to establish boundaries.

Oof. A stalking triangle? A love triangle? We're getting wild, lmao. The identity crisis would fucking TAKE BUCKY OUT. Yeah. What the fuck. Who is he? Who is this man? Has Steve entirely replaced him with this lookalike? Does Steve not want him? Does he not need him? Who is that, and what's happening? I feel like it would probably make Bucky crazy jealous, right? He's unsteady at that time, and so I feel more than stalking he would turn to threatening poor Sebastian.

And maybe it all ends up with Steve explaining himself, standing between them, physically buffering them with his arms spread and his hands up. Then, well... why turn down an opportunity like this? Steve has forced his way into their lives (back into Bucky's life), so, he deserves what he gets--two lookalikes, two loves of his life, taking it out on him. Using him. 😏

This would go hard as a long form fic!! You're so fucking right 💥 💳💥💳

And thank you so, so much for sharing!! I enjoyed reading and thinking about this!

#asks #🫠🫠 anon #steve rogers #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #stucky #selfcest #kinda #not really #anon provided writing #tw stalking #tw dubcon

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spiderdreamer-blog · 1 year ago

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2023 at the Movies: A Year in Review

2023 has been an odd year for American cinema in particular, between overall tepid box office outside of a few big hits and the combination of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes affecting release dates as well as promotional tactics. (Just so we're clear, this is a Union Solidarity Blog) But it was a fascinating year artistically nonetheless, especially on the blockbuster end. What this list aims to achieve is sort of a capsule review of the theatrical releases I saw (not counting streaming-only films even if I ended up seeing theatrical releases ON streaming) and how I felt about them in capsule review form. And even then, there's still stuff I need to catch up on like Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Oppenheimer, Elemental, or Transformers: Rise of the Beasts. Anyhoo, on with my list, in chronological release order:

John Wick: Chapter 4: Much like its titular hero, there are perhaps some signs that this franchise could benefit from taking a bit of a rest. Some of the worldbuilding is going from knowingly absurd to just plain absurd, and a couple early action beats, while fun (NUNCHUCKS), are a little familiar in terms of director Chad Stahelski's neon-as-fuck aesthetics. Ultimately, it's not too much to derail things, as Keanu Reeves proves a capable grounding lead like always, and the Parisian third act is giddy, comically overblown violence in the grand John Wick tradition that reaches an unexpected poignancy. The supporting cast might also be one of the best in the series; while Asia Kate Dillion's unflappable Adjudicator is missed from the last installment, we do receive Bill Skarsgard doing an OUTRAAGEOUS French accent as a smarmy villain you really want to see dead by the end of this, Donnie Yen as a clever, funny spin on the blind swordsman trope, Rina Sawayama is both badass and touching, Shamier Anderson stands out by dialing down, and my beloved Clancy Brown has some of the best implicit "are you fucking kidding me" reactions I've seen in a while.

The Super Mario Bros. Movie: I was honestly dreading this for a while. Illumination Entertainment is a perfectly cromulent animation studio who makes films that, with a couple exceptions, represent pretty much everything I dislike about American family filmmaking: loud, hyperactive, deficient of nutritional value, and did I mention loud? But the trailers started impressing me in terms of how well they adapted the candy-colored toybox Nintendo aesthetic to a wider theatrical scope. And if nothing else, casting Jack Black as Bowser would probably be pretty awesome (spoiler alert: he was). Thankfully, it manages to be an immensely entertaining, zippy adventure film that minimizes potential annoyances at nearly every turn. This is primarily thanks to a ready-to-play, enthusiastic voice cast (outside of Black, I particularly like Pratt and Day's brotherly dynamic and Anya Taylor-Joy doing a Disney Princess-esque comedy action spin on Peach), a smartly simple story structure, and leaving a lot of potential open for the future like Seth Rogen's lovable ready-for-spinoff-movies Donkey Kong. It may not rock the boat, but it was better than it had any business being, and that counts for a lot in my book.

Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3: The Marvel Cinematic Universe and I are admittedly on a bit of a break. Not because they're doing anything WRONG per se, just that a lot of their shows and movies haven't enticed me as much in the past year. I did get out to see this, though, which is both the best all around MCU film since Endgame and very possibly the best film of its own trilogy. James Gunn pulls out all the stops emotionally for his Marvel swan song (godspeed to you over at the still-in-progress trashfire that is Warner Bros. Discovery, good sir), crafting a beautiful, resonant journey for all the characters. The ensemble cast fires on all cylinders, for one. While Bradley Cooper is the obvious vocal standout as Rocket takes center stage, it's assuredly the role of Chris Pratt's career (other non-Mario/Marvel directors, take note! You can in fact have this guy be funny, credibly tough, AND sympathetic instead of missing out on the other two), Zoe Saldana navigates a difficult emotional dance, Pom Klementieff finds real heart in Mantis, Dave Bautista is still one of our most interesting wrestlers-turned-actors in the choices he makes, Karen Gillan has slowly become of the MCU's MVPs as Nebula, Will Poulter is endearingly dunderheaded as a comedic take on Adam Warlock, and Chukwudi Iwuji proves a truly vile villain who exemplifies the maxim of "if you really want an audience to just HATE a motherfucker, have him torture cute animals". And of course Gunn's musical tastes remain impeccable, such as a Beastie Boys needle drop that prompts a truly bitchin' fight scene (oddly the second time this specific song happened this year in a Pratt-led vehicle). It's funny, it made me ugly cry at SEVERAL points, and I got to see a psychic cosmonaut dog beat people's asses with her mind. What more could I want?

Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse: Into the Spider-Verse was a revolution and a revelation for what the American animated film industry could accomplish artistically and technically. How could a sequel possibly live up to it? Across does, against all odds, proving to be the Empire Strikes Back to the original's Star Wars in terms of going darker/more complex on the emotions and to greater visual heights (albeit with the caveat that maybe next time, we can manage the production better and not crunch people so much). Co-directors Justin K. Thompson, Kemp Powers, and Joaquim Dos Santos (who I've stanned as one of our best animation action directors from Justice League Unlimited through Voltron Legendary Defender) craft a propulsive narrative that asks big questions about who and what Spider-Man is. And while those will have to wait to be fully answered in the third installment, what it sets up is no less compelling or thrilling. Shout-outs in particular go to Hailee Steinfeld, who has to anchor this film with Gwen as much as Shameik Moore's still-iconic Miles; Daniel Pemberton for an outstanding score; Oscar Isaac for giving rich complexity to Miguel O'Hara, who could have felt like a boorish bully in lesser hands; and Jason Schwartzman for not just proving he transitions REALLY well into voicework between this and projects like Klaus, but being by turns pathetically funny and terrifying in ways I've never heard him be as the Spot. Can't wait to see where that goes next time in particular.

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: "Pleasant surprise" comes to mind. While I never hated Kingdom of the Crystal Skull as much as most, it was definitely a little underwhelming as a possibly final Indy adventure. (Not helping is that Steven Spielberg immediately turned around and made an infinitely better indy movie in the form of The Adventures of Tintin) So I was curious to see how going to the well for seemingly the real final adventure would work this time around. Thankfully, director James Mangold proves he has a good eye for creative action, even if nothing here quite reaches the heights of the original trilogy, and Harrison Ford does some of his best acting in ages as a weary, burnt-out Indy; one always got the sense that THIS was much closer to his heart than Han Solo. Phoebe Waller-Bridge is a terrific foil to him, joyously amoral (or so she says), while Mads Mikkelsen finds a new spin on coldly cruel cinematic Nazis; he has a tense reintroduction scene that had me squirming in my seat. Add in a slam-bang ending and a touching epilogue, and I'm pretty happy with where things end up for our favorite archaeologist. A solid B+, which we could use more of nowadays.

Also they Poochie-d Shia LaBeouf, which is hilarious to me on several levels.

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning Part One: The Mission: Impossible franchise has undergone a curious metamorphosis from where it started as one of many oldies TV adaptations in 1996 to a purposefully old-school action franchise. Director Christopher McQuarrie has become a pro at these over the last three installments, and Dead Reckoning (now no longer a part one, as the back-in-production followup will be retitled) has lots to offer both large and small for action fans even outside of the continued spectacle of Tom Cruise Possibly Wants To Die On Camera. Obviously the big stunt sequences remain a draw, like a terrific car chase through Rome or the climactic journey onboard the Orient Express because trains are ALWAYS bitchin' locations in movies. But just as good are pleasures like a tense cat-and-mouse game in an airport where nobody's quite sure whose side Hayley Atwell's thief Grace is on, Henry Czerny coming back to the franchise after 27 years and looking as shiftily patriotic as ever, Pom Klementieff on this list for the second time looking really hot as she whoops ass, and Cary Elwes getting an unexpectedly choice exposition monologue. Plus the whole deal with the A.I. villain ended up being, uh, fairly relevant.

Barbie: A brilliant human comedy from an unexpected source. This could have gone wrong in so many different ways, I can easily imagine a version that's WAY more lugubrious and, crucially, much less funny. But director/co-writer Greta Gerwig has quickly become one of our best talents between this and the wildly-different-but-has-more-in-common-than-you'd-think Little Women (I also still need to see to heard-it's-excellent Lady Bird). With an infinitely clever script (I love in particular that the "real world" is just as ridiculous in its own way as Barbieland) and Sarah Greenwood's impeccable production design, Gerwig and her cast craft a feminist fable that remains light and funny even at its most strident and angry. Margot Robbie has never been better, hilarious and gut-punching by equal measure, America Ferrera ends up as the unexpected heart of the piece, and Ryan Gosling is absolutely hysterical as Ken while still making him intensely sympathetic. He and Robbie deserve Oscar noms in particular. No, I'm not kidding. Might expand this one to a full review at some point tbh.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem: I missed this in theaters and regret it immensely, given that this is a hilarious, cheerfully irreverent take on characters who've really managed a surprising amount of relevance in the modern age. Actually having teen actors voice the Turtles makes them feel so authentic, and they're matched well by an equally game cast like Ayo Edebiri's thoroughly modern April O'Neill, Jackie Chan as a more bumbling-but-heartfelt version of Splinter than usual, and Paul Rudd going full surfer bro as Mondo Gecko. And of course the scribbled-notebook underground comics vibe of the animation is a neat bit of full circle aesthetics if you know these guys' origins.

Wish: All of you are wrong and being dumb about this movie. It's not that I can't grok some of the criticisms as being legitimate, to be fair; for example, the songs, while very good on their own IMO, don't always hit the iconic level of a Frozen or Encanto. But the vitriol with which they've been expressed, and this odd narrative that Disney is in the toilet artistically and needs to nebulously "fix" things, is something I can't at all agree with. It's gorgeously rendered, for one; yes, I would potentially like to see a return to full 2D animated films for the studio at some point too. But if they're gonna experiment even marginally with CGI, I applaud co-directors Chris Buck and Fawn Veerasunthorn making it look this painterly as a starting point. And as with a lot of modern Disney, there's real richness and inner life to these characters. Ariana DeBose is a winning heroine as Asha, who feels distinct from other "princesses" by essentially being working class and unionizing the kingdom. And Chris Pine as Magnifico is a Disney Villain for the ages, blending real complexity in his relationships with scenery-chewing madness. (Also am I the only one who got major "studio executive/CEO" vibes off him?) If this is "mid" or "bland" Disney, I really question what some of y'all are seeing that I seemingly can't.

Also I liked the 100th anniversary references, sue me. The last one in particular gets points for quiet charm rather than grandstanding.

The Boy and the Heron: Hayao Miyazaki, anime's favorite grumpy old man, comes back out of retirement for like the fifth time. Seriously, remember when Princess Mononoke was supposed to be his last film 25+ years ago? I'll believe his "last film" is truly his last when he's in the cold, cold ground. Regardless of the continuing saga of Old Man Won't Retire Because He Seemingly Can't Be Alone With His Own Thoughts, this is a brilliant, haunting spectacle of animation that might be a new favorite for me. Some have called it confusing, whereas I go for "dreamlike", possibly his most to date. Nearly every frame is suffused with longing and melancholy (though this also has some of Miyazaki's best comedy in a while), and, oddly like Wish, this feels like a true career reflection, if a bit more fraught and questioning what legacy truly means. Joe Hisaishi contributes possibly his moodiest, most dissonant score, with little of the bombast or whimsical charm that typifies his music, but it works unfathomably well. Credit also to the dub, with Robert Pattinson as funny and menacing as you've heard, but Luca Pandoval is also excellent as our stoic lead Mahito, Florence Pugh manages to be both a total badass and a funny old woman (it makes sense in context, I promise), Christian Bale puts forth a fascinating two-step with his boisterous father, Gemma Chan and Karen Fukuhara nail some complex emotional turns, Willem Dafoe nearly steals the whole thing in under two minutes, Dave Bautista makes a real meal out of a part not much bigger than that, and Mark Hamill finds resonance as a tired old man.

#movies #analysis #criticism #disney animated canon #wish 2023 #tmnt mutant mayhem #john wick #atsv #mission impossible #the boy and the heron #barbie #the super mario bros movie #indiana jones #guardians of the galaxy volume 3

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