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niallhorxns · 5 months ago

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Niall Horan x Reader: Panicked

Prompt: You have a panic attack while you're on tour with him, he helps you through it.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: anxiety, panic attack

A/N: hello!!! i recently discovered there's a painfully limited amount of niall x reader fics out there, so i'm adding to the pot. feel free to send requests / prompts if anyone has ideas they want me to write :) (i especially love angst, so give it to me).

Niall’s laugh fills the air as he leans forward and chats back and forth with the driver. If you weren’t so busy gazing at the views around you, you would’ve held onto the sound of it longer– reminded yourself it’s still your favorite sound in the entire world.

Tonight is night… forty five? No, forty six. Hell, you can’t remember. All you know is that as far as cities go, this one is small– but it has a certain charm to it that you’ve been admiring the entire ride to and from breakfast.

“Oh, take a look at that,” Niall says, reaching over your lap to point out the window. He’s motioning towards the river, sparkling blue underneath the clear sky, and lined with a cobblestone walkway. “That’s gorgeous.”

He says it longingly– like he wishes he could get out of the car and walk along the path. But of course he doesn’t suggest that. In fact, Niall rarely suggests outings when you’re with him on tour– because he knows how anxious it makes you. Not the outing itself, but the likelihood of him being spotted. You could handle a walk along the river, but you’d have a hard time handling a swarm of people bombarding you on a walk along the river.

It must drive him crazy– the way you always prefer sticking to the venue or hotel. And while he always claims to understand each and every time you say no to a public dinner, or whatever adventure is planned for the day, you can’t help but wonder if there will come a time that he gets sick of you always anxiously hanging back.

Your anxiety has ruined so much for you. It’s ruined school events and trips, it’s ruined friendships and opportunities. You don’t want it to ruin your relationship with Niall, too.

For the last year and a half, you’ve been attending therapy consistently– learning breathing techniques and grounding skills to cope with anxiety.

You wonder if now was a good time to test if it was working.

“Do we have time before soundcheck?” You ask.

Niall checks his watch. “It’s only eleven thirty. We don’t have to be back at the venue until one. You want to walk around?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” you agree.

Niall grins before asking the driver to pull over.

Hand in hand, the pair of you stroll along the river casually, admiring the views around you. Summer is in full bloom– all the trees a brilliant shade of green, the sky stunningly blue.

“Look there–” Niall uses his free hand to gesture at a family of ducks swimming along the rivershore. You both stop in your tracks and watch for a moment, a smile spreading widely across your face.

“This is so nice,” you say. It’s so rare that you actually got quality time with Niall when he was on tour. Sure, you accompanied him to most shows, but you rarely got any shred of privacy.

This is what life might look like if Niall wasn’t… well, if he wasn’t Niall. You could take quiet walks in the morning along a riverbend. You could sit on park benches and drink your coffee without being swarmed. You’d be free to live your lives– unbothered, undisturbed.

But that wasn’t reality. And through the years, you learned that the only thing about your situation that you had control over changing was yourself. You couldn’t change the fact that Niall was adored and loved by people wherever you went. But you could try to change how anxious that made you.

You’d accepted the fact that you would always be introverted. People, present company aside, were draining. You’d never get energized from crowds like Niall did, and you’d never like being the center of attention. All you wanted was to be able to handle yourself when Niall inevitably was surrounded by crowds– that way you weren’t always restricted to what you could and couldn’t do whenever he was on tour.

“It is nice,” Niall agrees.

“And to think I’d never even heard of this town before,” you add.

Niall chuckles while you lean further into his side. “I think we’re actually really close to the venue, too,” he says, tilting his head towards the direction of the road.

The road, which is parallel to the path, curled around a corner and sure enough, in the distance, you could see the faint outline of the venue Niall would perform in tonight.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize–” you begin. But before you can finish your sentence, your heart clenches in your chest. Because as soon as you’re far enough along the path to see the road leading to the entrance of the venue, the line of fans waiting to get in appears.

They’re across the street from the two of you, less than a football field away. Hundreds of fans sit– in their pretty clothes and outfits on the concrete, waiting in the hot sun for your boyfriend’s show. You are simultaneously proud that he is so adored, and terrified that you’ll be spotted.

“Shit,” Niall mutters under his breath. “Let’s turn back.”

“We can keep going,” you say, trying desperately to prove to him that you really are getting better– that you don’t have to be coddled all the time.

“We don’t have to–”

“The venue’s closer than the car,” you reply. “It’s fine, let’s just go.”

“You’re right. Maybe we can just sneak by. Go in the side gate there,” he suggests, nodding towards a side entrance to the venue. “I’m pretty covered up today. You up for that?”

You nod slowly, although you aren’t sure how true that really was. But at least Niall looked pleased– maybe even a little impressed.

Following his lead, you keep your head down and just focus on taking one step after another. Your gaze remains fixated on the stone beneath your feet, hoping to evade detection. You breathe in, forcing the air to your stomach– just like your therapist taught you, hold it, and out.

And slowly, the two of you get closer and closer to the venue, just enough so that you actually start to feel hopeful that maybe you’ll pull it off.

Until the screaming starts.

It starts off slow– one person shrieks.

And then it becomes hysterical– the kind of screams you let out when there’s a snake in the pool or a spider in the shower. Except you know these girls aren’t screaming because of snakes or spiders. They’re screaming because of your boyfriend– who is currently pressed to your side.

“Oh shit,” he says quietly. “Here they come.”

“Ni–” you whisper, already feeling the panic creeping up your throat. And suddenly, everything you’ve been taught– all the breathing techniques and grounding skills, go out the window. Your mind is blank– frozen.

“It’s okay,” he encourages you, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “Stand on this side of me.”

He shuffles you so that you’re on his other side– furthest from the group of fans currently running your way while you continue walking towards the venue. You aren’t going to make it in time, you realize– they’re going to catch you first.

“It’ll be okay,” he repeats to you. “We’re close to the venue, it’ll be okay.”

All you can manage is a weak nod.

As soon as the group approaches, the warmth from their bodies engulf you like a blanket– slow and suffocating. Niall, of course, handles everything beautifully. “Hello, hello,” he says kindly, remaining so calm. “Afraid we can’t do photos this morning, I’m late for soundcheck… Gotta get inside.”

There are bodies in front of you– there are bodies pressing behind you, bodies around you… everywhere. You lean into Niall’s touch, your clammy hand clinging to his like your life depends on it. In the vague distance, you feel him squeeze back, but it doesn’t feel real.

“Move please!” A firm voice suddenly shouts above the noise. Instantly, you recognize the voice as one from Niall’s security teaam. Relief floods through you as he makes his way through the group to collect the pair of you. He grabs Niall’s shoulders firmly and guides him forward. In the haste to try and keep up, your sweaty palm slips from his. Desperately, you try to latch back on, but as soon as it parts, bodies slip between you. In an instant, you’re separated from the one person in the entire world that can make you feel safe.

“Niall—” you try to say, but of course your meek voice is drowned out by the crowd.

You think you saw a flash of his hair ahead of you, but then a body slams into yours and you stumble, losing track of where it goes. People are pushing forward– to get closer to him. And then suddenly, you can’t breathe at all. Hot bodies all around you, the beating sun above– skin and clothing touching your bare arms. You can’t take it– you’re going to suffocate in here.

And all you can do is continue to push forward– closer to the gate, hoping that eventually, the crowd will break.

Everything is simultaneously moving too fast and too slow as the edges of your vision blur, like you’re getting sucked deeper and deeper into a dark tunnel. Chest tightening, you struggle to inhale.

Until suddenly, someone grabs your elbow, tugging you to your left. You don’t even have the energy to fight it. Instead, you let them pull you sideways until you’re out of the thickest part of the crowd.

Another one of Niall’s security team that you recognize gave you a concerned look. “You alright?”

You can’t get the words out, so instead you just nod. It’s a lie, though.

With that, he helps you the rest of the way to the venue. “Move aside!” The security guard yells, his grip on your shoulders tightening as he tries to maneuver his way through. “Move!”

Using his arm, he sweeps the remainder of the mob from your way and ushers you through the gate. Except, even once you’re inside– separated from the crowd, you’re too far gone to even appreciate it. Instead, you feel the familiar sensation of panic creeping across every inch of your skin, like it has already taken over your entire body. You know you have to get somewhere private, and fast– before you completely fall apart.

Without even realizing it, your feet start moving. Luckily the attention shifts to the mob of people outside, so no one even notices your attempt to slip away. Or maybe you’re just too engrossed in your own panic to notice anyone noticing you. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting somewhere quiet– somewhere safe.

You’ve never been to this venue before– but throughout the tour, you’ve learned that most of the layouts are the same. This was an amphitheater– outdoors, minimal options for private breakdowns. Your best bet is going to be the backstage room where you and Niall left your stuff earlier in the day. If you could remember how to get there…

Even though you have no idea where you are going, your body continues to move. It leads you around a couple of corners, past the merch booth and concessions and towards the stage… You’re going to lose it if you don't get somewhere safe fast.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grip your shoulders, causing your entire body to seize.

“It’s me,” a gentle voice murmurs. "I got you."

Through your foggy haze, you recognize Niall’s touch– except you still can’t breathe.

One look– that’s all it takes for him to know what was going on. Because he’s the one person on this planet that you’d willingly ever let get close to you during a panic attack.

“One to five?” he asks, indicating the rating scale the two of you had created for moments like this– so you could communicate just how bad you were feeling. One meant you could stay where you were, maybe take some breaths. Two meant he’d guide you through the grounding skills he knew about, maybe rub your back. Three was on the cusp, probably needed to go to a quiet corner to take some space. Four meant getting somewhere quiet and safe– and fast. Five meant you were probably dying.

You hold up four fingers. It feels bad– scary. Maybe you’re dying… but you also don’t want to be dramatic.

“Tell me what you need,” he says.

You try– honestly, you do. You open your mouth, but all that comes out is a gasp– a plea for help.

“Okay, it’s okay– c’mon,” he grips your shoulders and begins walking. You have no idea where– honestly you don’t have the capacity to care. All of your energy is focused on not passing out.

Niall flashes his badge to an employee who lets you backstage. You vaguely recognize the halls he leads you down as the ones where you dropped your stuff earlier. He’s bringing you to his dressing room… because of course he knows exactly what you need.

Once you’re inside, Niall shuts the door behind you as you stagger inside. Then, he spins around, his hands cupping the sides of your face.

“Look at me, baby,” he says. “It’s okay– you’re okay.”

“I– can’t–” you gasp, your own hands flying up to grip his forearms for some sort of lifeline to reality. “I can’t– breathe–”

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says. He’s trying to stay calm, but you can hear the uneasiness in his voice. “With me.”

He gives a deep, methodical inhale before letting out a slow, intentional exhale. “Just do it with me. Slow, like this.”

He continues, and you try to match his pace– to breathe with him, but it feels like someone is gripping your windpipe– squeezing so hard you just can’t get enough air–

“Niall–” you beg, your voice hoarse. “I can’t–”

“C’mon, with me,” he repeats earnestly. He’s looking at you with terror in his eyes, but you find comfort in their familiarity just the same. “We’ve done this a hundred times before, you know how to do this.”

“I– I–” you stammer, but the words won’t form.

“Shh, with me. Everything’s okay. I’m here. We’re both okay,” he assures you. His gaze is just so tender and soft and careful while his thumb grazes your cheek.

“I- I can’t-” you choke again, “Please-”

“Shh-” he soothes. “Look at me, nothing else, just me.”

Your wide, desperate eyes meet his. You don’t say anything, just shudder and gasp frantically.

“With me,” he repeats.

Niall produces loud and deliberate, slow and calming, in and out breathes. After a few seconds, you latch onto the sound, mimicking it, and then finally follow along.

“There you go,” he whispers.

Your facial features slowly start to relax as you’re able to breathe properly. Without your loud, choking sobs, you’re able to hear your heartbeat pounding in your chest frantically.

“Good job,” Niall sighs. “Look, it’s just you and me, we’re okay–”

But he can’t even finish his sentence before you lean forward and wind your arms around his neck– desperate and longing for some sort of comfort. Strong, sturdy arms wrap around you as you burrow your face into the nape of his neck. You breathe him in, letting his familiar scent wash over you.

“It’s okay,” Niall soothes. Upon feeling your shaky body pressed against his, he squeezes tighter. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here, I got you.”

You melt against him in response, bunching the fabric of his shirt into your fist, trying to communicate just how badly you need him to hold you right now.

And that’s exactly what he does— until you can finally breathe on your own again.

And then the wave of guilt comes.

Suddenly the realization of everything hit you– what a basketcase you’d been, running off like that, having a meltdown– you probably scared the shit out of him, or at the very least made a fool of yourself in front of the entire venue. Slowly, you pull back.

“Are you okay?” Niall says before you can even open your mouth.

You exhale a deep, shuddering breath that you can feel down your entire body. “I’m okay,” you say, your voice raw. “I’m so sorry– I didn’t mean to freak out.”

“Shh. Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” Niall says. His hands grip the outside of your shoulders gently. “Don’t apologize– I’m the sorry one, making you go through a crowd like that. That was a horrible idea.”

“It wasn’t even your idea– and I should be able to go through a crowd like that. I don’t know why I always freak out–” you stammer, feeling so upset with yourself. “It’s so stupid.”

“We talked about this, love. Remember? Anxiety doesn’t always make sense. Right? It’s not rational.”

“I just—” you start, but you stop when you notice how choked up your voice sounds. You take a slow breath. “I wanted to prove to you that I was doing better– that I wasn’t going to freak out every time we went out. But I guess I haven’t made progress, after all.”

As soon as you feel the tears burning behind your eyes, you dig the heels of your palms into them frustratedly, like you were physically trying to push them away.

“It’s getting so much better though, baby,” Niall says encouragingly. “This is the first panic attack you’ve had all tour. Unless you’ve been hiding them from me,” he says with a hint of playfulness to his tone. “First one in forty-five shows. That’s incredible. Last tour you were havin’ em every other night it seemed. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but that’s huge.”

You lower your arms and nod pathetically, gaze fixated on the floor.

“What is it?” he whispers gently. “Talk to me.”

“I’m so scared,” you choke out, “that one day you’re going to get sick of me–”

“Baby,” Niall interrupts.

“Maybe not me, but all of this,” you say instead. “I mean, you realize you could have anyone, right? But you could especially have someone who didn’t have a meltdown every time they had to face a crowd– Or someone who could actually handle going out in public with you once and a while.”

“Please look at me,” Niall says, voice gently serious. Pathetically, you do– your lip quivering as tears threaten to spill. “I need you to listen to me when I tell you this, okay?”

Slowly, you nod.

“I don’t want anyone else. Not in a million years, okay? I don’t want someone who loves crowds or going out, because they wouldn’t be you. Baby, honestly, I don’t like getting swarmed or photographed, either. If it bothered me that we didn’t go out much– I’d tell you. But it doesn’t. What does bother me is you changin’ things about yourself because you think it’ll make me happy. You make me happy. You. As you are, no changin’ things.”

You let his words sink in and try to believe them. “I’m just sorry you have to deal with me all the time. You have enough on your plate,” you groan, rubbing your tired eyes.

Niall sighs. “Baby, I sing and play the guitar– do a little dance or two if I’m really feelin’ it. I think I can handle being there for my girlfriend on top of that,” he says. “I love you. And I want you to be okay, always. That’s all I’ll ever want.”

With all your energy seemingly zapped, you lean forward and rest your forehead on Niall’s shoulder. His arms wrap around you again, anchoring you to him.

“I love you,” you murmur into his shirt. It’s muffled by the fabric, but it's there just the same.

You feel his hand cradle the back of your neck while he chuckles softly. “Good, because we still have about forty more shows to go.”

#i made a new blog so this is a shameless repost!!!!#niall horan #niall horan fic #niall horan imagine #niall horan x reader imagine #niall horan x reader #niall horan x reader fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan x reader fanfic #niall horan angst #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan x reader angst

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drvscarlett · 5 months ago

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About You Pt 11

Sebastian Vettel x Webber!Reader

Summary: Everyone knows about the history of Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber. But there's a well kept story within the paddock about Sebastian Vettel and another Webber. This is that story.

About You Series

A/N: well, well, well.... anyone wants a drink? let me know your thoughts (and prayers) for this one

Taglist: @spideybv28@randomcuboidshape @mehrmonga @casperlikej @cliosunshine @honethatty12 @randomgirlnumber-13 @sugyomama @ririyulife @skywalker1dream @vicurious28 @khaylin27 @0710khj @its-elias-world @vizzzashley @allisonwoods @taytaylala12 @miarabanana @ceciii-b @lindsayjoy444 @mploopssek @snakelore @toldyouitwasamelodrama @lordpercevalcharles

2013, Shanghai International Circuit

Everyone is staring at Sebastian.

It wasn't uncommon for Sebastian to be stared upon when he enters the track. He was the reigning champion so he has been used being the center of attention. He has been looked at by people before but this time it feels very different. A hint of judgement and anger was communicated by their gazes so if looks could kill then he would be seven feet under the ground now.

"It has been two weeks, why are people not getting over it"Sebastian grumbles.

Britta, who was walking alongside him, shakes her head. Sebastian seems to forget about the fighting words that he stated in an interview not so long ago.

"They felt like you are being arrogant with the whole I don't apologize for winning statement Seb"Britta reminded.

His bad, Sebastian admits.

Maybe its a mix of pride and ego that's why he callously stated those words. But Sebastian stands firm on that because he had a chance and he simply seized it. If he was born to concede then maybe he should look for other careers instead of being a Formula 1 driver.

"You have to be in a good mood today" Britta states "You have some interviews and conferences lined up"

"Who's on it?"

"You are partnered with Bianchi, Ricciardo, Bottas, and Alonso"

It was far from his usual pairings of his grid friends. Sebastian thinks Britta has a hand on this in order to lessen the fanfare. And besides, Alonso has his fair shares of controversy, surely he would understand

A slight scoff from a passerby brought him out of his thoughts. The stranger bumped him with no apologies or whatsoever as they only glared at him.

"Rude"

Sebastian could feel more muttering of the people as he gets closer to the media room. He puts up a brave face like he doesn't hear them but he will be lying to say if they didn't hurt. He felt truly wronged being portrayed as someone villainous when he is just doing his job.

The only thing that Sebastian is looking forward to is talking to Y/N.

With all the chaos, he has a sense of relief that Y/N understands. She was the first person who talked to her after everything that happened. She had understood the why and the whole situation. It brought him some sort of comfort that there is someone by his side.

Sebastian was craning his head all around the paddock to look for the girl, she must be here somewhere. He also tried looking for Jenson as they are often paired together but he had no luck with the McLaren driver as well.

And then he finds her busy with her laptop talking with Jenson. Sebastian made a beeline to the duo despite the protest of Britta.

"Y/N, I tried picking you up a while ago but then your hotel-"Sebastian explained.

"Seb"she was looking side by side as if afraid to be caught talking to him "We have to speak later"

"What's going on?"

"We have to go"Jenson excused.

There was a strained smile on both of their faces. They hurriedly exited the room which made Sebastian frown.

Did he say something wrong? Why are they acting weird?

"I heard some rumors about that"Britta piped in "They say that after the whole fiasco last time, McLaren is not allowing interactions between you, Mark, and Y/N"

That's the most bullshit that Sebastian heard. He could have handled the stares and the murmurings but this was his breaking point.

"This is so unfair. What does my fight with Mark have to do with them"

"Bad press, you know how Jenson is still recovering from his bad public opinion"Britta sighs.

But this is still unfair. The expression cannot be removed from the German driver's face. He felt like the anger that he has been trying to keep at bay is ready to burst out.

"Don't worry, this may be only temporary till things die down"Britta assures.

But those words fall on deaf ears. Sebastian has already made up his mind that if they truly want a villain then a villain they would get from this whole fiasco.

2013, Bahrain International Circuit

"Can we talk?"

This feels like a common occurrence between the two Webber siblings. Frankly, Y/N is a bit tired because she knows that this may lead to another argument again.

"I'm busy and I'm under strict orders not to talk to any of you"Y/N brushes off.

He knows that. Jenson had sent him a text that they are refrained from speaking to them publicly. This is why Mark waited until the end of the race where everyone is packing up and busy to talk to her.

"Please Y/N"Mark held on her wrist "I am just extremely worried about you"

There was a concern evident on his eyes. For Y/N, she truly missed that from her brother. How long have she longed for the hate and the irritation to disappear from his eyes. She felt like she could cry on the spot.

"I'm okay Mark"she assures.

"Are you really? Is McLaren keeping the media away? Aren't you getting bombarded? Are they treating you okay?"Mark's rapid question started.

He had been stupid for so long to allow his track rivalry to ruin his relationship with his sister. He made up his mind when he saw how she have been crowded by reporters that he would try to be better. He would try his best to earn her forgiveness and to stay by her side no matter what.

"I'm okay, you don't have to worry"she replies.

But it has been a difficult few weeks for Y/N. She felt very alone and very restricted with her moves around during the weekend. She felt watched by McLaren team for a single wrong move. She was afraid to be kicked out and be left out of the only world she knew.

"I know we have our differences but you have me by your side"Mark pulled her in a hug.

And this is where the waterworks started. It has been a long while since the siblings embraced each other. With all the drama and the stress that they shared the past few years, this brings a different kind of comfort.

"I'm really sorry when I said awful things to you Mark"

"No apologies, you were just hurt"Mark soothes "I should be the one apologizing for pushing you away and being a shit brother"

They were away from the eyes of the public but little did they know they have been spotted by someone else. Sebastian could only turn away with a hurt feeling thinking that Y/N choose a side in this rivalry and it was not by his side.

The necklace that hangs on his neck feels heavy. He quickly unclasped it and he holds it tightly in his hands. It was a reminder of Y/N and her support, now it seems to be mocking him.

Sebastian quickly left without making his presence known. The necklace tossed somewhere that he can't quite remember.

2013, Circuit de Barcelona-Catalunya

"I think Seb is mad at me" Y/N was worried.

It was a common practice that even if they are not allowed to see each other physically, they would message each other. However, ever since Bahrain, Sebastian was acting off and cold. It was seriously stressing Y/N out.

"Look at you all troubled"Jenson has the audacity to giggle at her misery "And you say you don't love him"

"Jenson, this is serious"

"You are soooooooo down bad"he teased.

"Why did I ever think that I'll get a decent advice from you"Y/N huffs.

She could have asked Nico or Lewis for help. Or even Michael and Corinna but here she was sitting in Jenson's hotel room and wondering for advices. She classifies this as a desperate situation which is why she is asking Jenson's opinion.

"Hey hey"Jenson sits closer "I'm your lad for this one, you can trust me to give you the other perspective so you can figure out what's wrong"

"So tell me what's wrong"

"Well usually when guys are acting like that then maybe they simply want your affection or your attention to dote on them."Jenson explains.

Y/N furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Doesn't he get a lot of attention from the media and everything?"

It caused Jenson to laugh. He had to remind himself to take it easy on Y/N because Sebastian is about to be the first relationship that the girl is entering in.

"That's a different kind of attention"Jenson states "Maybe Sebastian was just feeling very alone with everyone being against him and maybe he just needs a little extra TLC from you"

"I have always tried to make him feel like I support him"Y/N notes.

"Yeah but maybe you can do something like making him letters or maybe a cheer up basket. I'm pretty sure you could get some people to deliver them to him, it will really cheer him up"Jenson listed out.

Y/N reopens her phone and saw the text messages that she has sent. She tried cheering him up because he lost a podium for the first time this season. He hasn't replied yet or even looked at it.

"Hey cheer up, Sebastian is too in love with you to lose feelings for you"Jenson reminds "He had been in love with you for ages and it took him so long to tell you so I'm pretty sure that he won't simply leave you there"

"You really think so?"

"Oh I know so, you have no idea how Sebastian nearly pushed me off track because I was close to you"

"No, he did not!"

And in another part of town, the man of the hour is in a very crowded area. The flashing lights, the smell of smoke, and overflowing alcohol was not his typical scene. However, Sebastian felt like he needed this break from everything that has been happening since Malaysia.

"Another round of shots for the world champion"someone pushed an array of tequila in front of him.

He gave them a smile as he chugs them all down.

Now he knows why some drivers opt to have drink after a miserable weekend. It makes the pain less and his mind is free from any of those thoughts that he could have done better.

"Sebastian?"a voice called out "Oh my god, I can't believe its you"

His drunken state has clouded his vision. He only made sense that the voice was a female and it was awfully familiar to him.

"Youu can come zit wid me" words were already slurred.

"Sebastian, I'm really happy to see you! I have been looking for you this weekend but you seem occupied"

"Y/N?"Sebastian could only think of one person that would have looked at him this weekend.

"No, I'm not Y/N. I'm-"

Maybe its the club's loud music but Sebastian didn't hear it. He proceeded to get closer to her until he envelopes her in a hug. He felt at peace suddenly being with someone familiar in a place full of strangers.

"Y/N, I missed you so much"Sebastian murmurs.

It was the very first mistake that he has made that night. The second one was bringing the woman back to his hotel and to his bed.

#sebastian vettel x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #about you series #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel angst

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hottpinkpenguin · 5 months ago

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Letting Someone Go - Part 3

Benny Cross X Female Reader A/n: part 1 is here! part 2 is here! Word Count: 2392 Warnings: alcohol use, cursing, angsty angstiness

Johnny, Cal, and Zipco were at Junker’s Tavern when you pulled up six days later. You’d found every excuse in the book to turn what should have been a 5-hour straight shot east into a six day, meandering countryside tour. After much deliberation, you’d phoned the bar the night before from yet another shitty hotel room outside Chicago and had stammered out a request to Johnny that Benny not be there when you pull in. He hadn’t said much, just sorta grunted on the other end and fed you some bullshit about how I ain’t Benny’s goddamn keeper. But after you’d cussed him out some and asked him again, he begrudgingly agreed. You were glad, but not surprised, that he’d kept his word. Your welcome party was small, and with the noticeable exception of Brucie and Gail, those three guys were your closest pals in the Vandals. In spite of yourself, you found you were glad to see them.

Zipco was as gruff as ever, didn’t crack a smile as he strode over to your bike with his long legs. He’d wrapped you up in a rib-cracking hug, mumbled something in your hair about how it was good to see you, and had disappeared back into the dark interior of the pub. Johnny had nodded at you stoically from the doorway. He looked about ten years older, with worry lines etched into his face and an emptiness in his eyes. Cal shot you a shy smile and an awkward wave as he came over to take your helmet. You shook out your hair from its braid, relishing the feel of your hair loosening at the roots and groaning appreciatively. You didn’t miss the way the sound made Cal squirm like a schoolboy, and it made you chuckle.

“How you been, Cal?” you asked him with a little more flirt than you meant. It had been a long time since you’d talked to a man without trying to get him to buy you a drink or take your mind off yourself for an evening.

He shrugged casually. “Can’t complain.”

“Mmm,” you replied in agreement. “Nobody would wanna listen anyways.”

He scoffed as he followed you inside Junker’s. The tavern was exactly how you remembered it, down to the broken lightbulb in the back corner, the aging jukebox, the scuffed up pool table, and the neon Budweiser sign blinking erratically behind the permanently sticky bartop.

“I see you boys been busy makin’ improvements in here,” you commented sarcastically as you joined Johnny and Zipco at their usual table. The bar was technically closed, but Johnny knew the owner, so it was yours for the afternoon. You spun your chair around so you could dangle your arms over the backrest. Zipco offered you a beer, which you accepted gratefully. Once Cal slid into a chair across from you, Johnny raised his bottle towards the center of the table.

“To Brucie,” he said softly and sadly. “The best of us.” The rest of you clinked your beers to Johnny’s, murmuring an echo of his toast. Suddenly the air in the bar felt heavy and thick around you. You couldn’t meet the eyes of the other three, and you were fairly certain their gazes were glued to the tabletop just like yours, fighting back the wave of emotions that had just swamped the room.

Johnny cleared his throat after a few moments, breaking the tension. He turned to you, a serious look in his eyes.

“Funeral’s tomorrow,” he informed you, as if you didn’t know. You nodded, taking another generous swig of beer.

“Whole club’s gonna be there.” It was Zipco’s turn to chime in now. You narrowed your eyes at the three men, sensing a trap. Cal was watching you gently, and something in his gaze made you want to smack him. You didn’t like the softness he seemed to be extending to you with his eyes.

“Yea, I figured as much,” you replied testily, setting your beer down a little harsher than necessary. Zipco and Johnny exchanged a glance that you didn’t miss, and it set your teeth on edge. Definitely a trap.

“Benny included.” Johnny didn’t look up at you, instead he set to picking off the label on his Pabst. You chewed on your tongue for a moment, trying to remind yourself that these three were as close to friends as you had in this world and deserved more than your anger.

“Yea.” Unable to say more, you sat and waited. For the second time in as many minutes, the bar felt too small for the four of you. Or maybe it was too big, the size of the room and the memories of this place drowning you out and suffocating you.

“We don’t want no problems.” It was Johnny who finally spoke. His voice was even and smooth. He was nervous, you realized. Nervous about how you’d react. You exhaled slowly through your nose as you bit down on the mean things you thought about saying. Why the fuck did you invite me then, if you’re so worried about me being a problem.

Cal’s leg was bouncing, and the keys he had hanging from his belt loop jingled softly in the late afternoon light that streamed through the lone window of the bar. You could see dust motes dancing in the sunlight, oblivious to the fact that you felt ready to split apart at the seams. The prospect of seeing Benny so soon hit you like a freight train. Were you really ready? Was Johnny right to worry about there being ‘a problem’? How were you going to react? Was she going to be there?

It was Zipco who broke the moment. He reached across the table and found your hand. You startled at the movement but didn’t pull back. He squeezed your hand reassuringly and gave you a small, conciliatory smile.

“Our girl’s gonna be fine, Johnny,” he said with much more confidence than you felt. “She’s rock steady.”

Suddenly there were tears welling in your eyes and you were overwhelmed with gratitude. Four years almost since you’d seen these guys. You hadn’t called once, hadn’t thought to drop a postcard in the mail just to let them know you were alive. You’d just up and left. Sure, you’d been leaving Benny. But in the process, you’d lost sight of who else you were leaving. And instead of holding it against you - or worse, forgetting about you - they’d held a place for you here. For the first time in a long time, you were surrounded by people who actually knew you, actually cared.

You bit the inside of your lip to keep it from trembling and managed to nod in response to Zipco’s vote of confidence. He squeezed your hand again before withdrawing his. Johnny and Cal smiled at you, sensing that something had shifted inside you. You were changed, no doubt, but not totally lost. And it felt good to realize that, to remember who you were. You spent the rest of the afternoon in the quiet bar, drinking and talking stories with Zipco, Cal, and Johnny until the clock read 1:43am and you’d drunk up all the Pabst and Four Roses you could get your hands on. You crashed on Zipco’s couch that night, and as you lay there, looking up at the ceiling and waiting for the spins to stop so you could get some sleep, you came to terms with what you always knew would happen if you ever came back to Chicago:

You were home, and you weren’t leaving again.

***********************

You woke up the morning of Brucie’s funeral with a stiff back, a throbbing headache, and a tightness in your chest. The first two you treated with four ibuprofen and a strong cup of strong, black coffee. The third one wasn’t treatable. No medicine you could take to help with a nervous broken heart.

The entire club rode over to the funeral home where Brucie’s viewing was. Brucie’s parents had made it clear that Vandals weren’t welcome inside.

“They don’t own the fuckin’ sidewalk, do they?” Johnny had asked with thunder in his voice as he cut the engine on his Harley in the funeral home parking lot. The new guy who’d brought the news of the Vandals specific dis-invitation to the viewing stammered out a terrified apology and retreated into the assembling MC crowd. You were trailing along beside Zipco, trying your best to stop fidgeting with the ill-fitting black dress you’d managed to scrounge out of a Goodwill bin back in Davenport. Your head was buzzing, courtesy of your hangover, the espresso-strength coffee that Zipco had made you, and a low grade terror at what you knew was only moments away. Sensing your nerves, Zipco reached back for your hand. You accepted it gratefully, feeling reassured by your old friend’s steadiness. He gently led you closer to where the Vandals, all in black, were starting to form lines flanking the entrance to the funeral home.

“Y/n? Jesus Christ, is that you?!”

Sheila, never one for subtlety or propriety, shattered the somber mood of the crowd with a shriek of disbelief. You winced a bit, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into dust and get blown away on the next breeze. The last thing you wanted today of all days was to be the center of attention.

Unable to ignore her, you turned towards the sound of your friend’s greeting. She slammed into you running a million miles an hour, her arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

“Christ almighty, I can’t believe you’re here! When did you get back?”

“Sheila, ssh, just keep it down-”

“I know, I know, I just can’t believe it! I haven’t seen you in, well- jeeze, how long’s it been?”

“Four years,” you mumbled, feeling small. It felt real shitty to tell someone you were supposed to have been close with that it had been years - literal years - since you’d last seen them.

“Four years, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, you’re right!” Sheila’s voice was getting louder as her excitement was bubbling up again.

Eager to distract her, you reached for the first inane question you could think of. “So, anyways, how you been doin’, you still hangin’ with the club then?”

“Oh yeah, well, I guess you wouldn’t know, but yea, Wahoo and I got married!” She flashed a ring in your face with a giddy grin. “Yea, it took a while, y’know how men are, but after about two years of datin’ I says to him ‘listen, Beau, you’re either in or you’re out, stop draggin’ your feet already’. And yea, maybe like a week later I had this little beaut on my finger and-”

Halfway through Sheila’s rambling story, the ground opened up and swallowed you whole. You were nervously glancing around the crowd, trying to stay as close to Zipco as you could physically manage and trying desperately to keep Sheila from causing too much of a ruckus, when you locked eyes with him. After all these years, Benny was still as devastating as ever, with his hair a little longer and his smile a little softer than the last time you’d seen him. You’d know him anywhere. Hell, you’d know Benny Cross in the dark.

For a split second, you saw him before he saw you. In the next instant, those blue eyes locked with yours. Your grip tightened like a vice on Zipco’s hand. Sheila was still yammering at you, but your ears felt stuffed with cotton and your head a million miles away. All you could do was look at him, your eyes greedily roaming over his face, desperately memorizing everything about him as if you’d never get another chance again.

Benny’s expression was unreadable. He held your gaze calmly. You knew you shouldn’t, but you tried to swim into his eyes to see if there was anything like guilt in those two blue oceans. Didn’t he feel the least bit bad for what he’d done? Didn’t he know that you’d barely survived these last four years? Didn’t he care?

You weren’t sure how long you looked at Benny. It could have been seconds or eons. However long it was, it wasn’t nearly enough. There was a bottomless, demanding hunger for more of him deep in your gut. You felt like you could literally crawl into his skin alongside him and it wouldn’t be enough. It was maddening, desperate and overwhelming. And to add salt to the wound, Benny gave you nothing. A barely-there smile that could have said anything: amusement, pity, discomfort, adoration, apathy. Eyes that slid past you, through you, and over you easily as he made idle conversation with the other Vandals and watched Brucie’s casket pass by. You couldn’t read anything in him, and it threatened to crush what few pieces of yourself you had left.

You tried your best to turn your head towards Brucie, but it was no good. Brucie deserved better from you, you knew it, and there was no help for it. You were lost in Benny again. It had taken you fifteen months to meet him, love him, and lose him. Four years to race against the crushing heartbreak that threatened to swamp you. And less than a heartbeat to fall back in love with him.

It wasn’t until Zipco literally dragged you away from the funeral home that your head came plunging out of the clouds. You were sure you looked half-crazed, craning your neck to catch one more glimpse of Benny before the crowd swallowed him up amidst the roar of a dozen or so motorcycles coming to life. He didn’t bat an eye at your absence. It made you wish you could burst into flames, just to see if he’d react, burns and agony be damned.

You didn’t notice anything on the ride home. The wind tore at your face and ripped out tears. After a few agonizing moments, you lay your head against Zipco’s back with an exhausted sigh and willed the world to drown itself out. Another realization buried itself deep in your bones as you let the bike and the asphalt and the wind and Zipco lull you to sleep:

You were home, you weren’t leaving, and it was probably going to be the death of you.

**read part 4 here

Taglist: @real-lana-del-rey @putherup @dontcrydaddy @gilli-vanilli @faephoria @summer56 @seresinhangmanjake @patrycqv @rose-deathman

#the bikeriders imagine #bikeriders imagine #benny cross #benny cross x y/n #benny cross x reader #benny cross imagine #benny cross x you #austin butler imagine #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader

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skellyflowers · 7 months ago

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Too Many Beds

Ployvessels x reader

The world tour is going amazing. We just finished the Australian leg where IV really stole the show. Our next destination is America. We got a flight and landed a few days early so we could recover and be ready for the next part of the tour.

Management got us a hotel to recover in. The room would be purchased home for the next two days before the tour starts. We kick off in Las Vegas at a music festival. Check in was a quick process and we were given our key cards and room numbers in no time. Wait numbers? Like more than one?

If I wasn’t so jet lag l would have said something earlier but I didn't really pay attention. I wanted to take a shower and get a nap. When we get to our room I take my bag to the bathroom. II and IV planned to go get a drink at the hotel bar and III wanted to go to the hotel casino. Vessel is only one without a plan, so he is either going to stay with me all night and get room service or wait until I fall asleep and join the others.

The bathroom is pretty big, it has both a shower and a bathtub. I put my bag on the counter and went to report the information to the boys.

“The bathroom is nice. Shower and tub are only big enough for two.”

I was expecting to hear III moan out a complaint about no group showers. However that is not his main grievance.

“There are too many beds! And they are all too small!” He yells.

“What do you mean too many? How many is too many?”

“THE NUMBER IS NOT IMPORTANT V!”

Vessel and IV watch us talk back and forth. Both clearly trying not to laugh.

“What III means,” interrupts II, trying to defuse to tension “That we have 4 Queen size beds in two rooms”

“We have two rooms?” I ask, still confused.

“Yes they are adjoined right there.” II points to another door that must lead to the other room.

Why did we get two rooms? It’s not like management didn’t know about the five of us and our relationship. We were not trying to hide it. We regularly turn the back lounge of any tour bus into a big bedroom.

“Relax, it's not the end of the world.” Says IV.

“This shouldn’t have even happened!” III grumbles. “We always get a king size.”

“It was pretty last minute. This may have been the best they could do.” I defend.

“That’s enough bickering.” Vessel finally speaks up. “V, go take your shower. We will wait and go get dinner.”

I do as asked and hope the boys calm III down. I decided to dress up a little and not get into my cozy clothes. All five of us go to one of the restaurants near the hotel. It was fun and really what we needed. Afterwards, we walked around the casino and played a couple of slot machines. We eventually got back to the hotel room.

When I get ready for bed I finally check out the adjoined room. As I expected the room is exactly the same, just flipped. I walk to the bedroom and see that one of the beds is missing a mattress. I head back to our main room to ask what happened.

When I get there I see what happened. All of the furniture has been pushed into the corners, I assume that Vessel was responsible for that, and all three mattresses are on the floor. Vessel and II are making the bed. IV comes up behind me and gives me a hug.

“You ok with this?”

“Yes. As long as it makes your boyfriend stop freaking out.”

“When he’s like that he is their boyfriend.”

That comment makes me laugh. I am not sure how long we are standing next to the new super bed. The others are busy arranging blankets and pillows. I feel my eyes starting to drift close, all the activity from the day catching up with me. IV swaying us is also putting me to sleep.

My eyes open when someone grabs my hand. It’s II, he gently pulls me away from IV. Now it’s time to arrange the sleeping positions. III is in the center on his back, me on his right and II on his left. Vessel is my big spoon and IV settles next to II.

“Four beds really is too many.” I say.

“THAT'S WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT!”

#sleep token #sleep token x reader #vessel x reader #ii x reader #iii x reader #iv x reader #sleep token fanfiction

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queenariesofnarnia · 8 months ago

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late night confessions

tech x f!reader

gif not mine! creds to the owner

wc: 1,800

warnings: 18+ content! MDNI!, piv unprotected sex! (wrap your willy and don't be silly), consensual recording of sex, truth or dare, slightly dom! tech, porn with minimal plot in my opinion :) ENJOYYYYY

Shore leave on Coruscant was rare, however it never stopped the batch from having a bit of drunken fun. Tonight, they even got you to tag along, and their plan to see you drunk for the first time was successful to say the least. They had a decent time at 79’s but brought the fun back to the ship. Wrecker suggested a game of truth or dare, as childish as this would have seemed among the batch when sober, how could they say no right now? You always encourage them to have some fun on leave, and that’s what lead to your dare.

“I dare you to share what I overheard you sharing with Commander Tano the other night.” Crosshair and Hunter smirked. You had a feeling someone heard you, all that mattered to you was that it wasn’t the person it involved.

“I tell her a lot of things gents be more specific” you tried playing it off by crossing your arms over your chest leaning back into your chair.

“You know exactly what we mean” Cross said pointing his toothpick towards his goggle wearing brother. It was now or never, the worse that can happen is that he doesn’t want that, and you can hopefully move on or just throw yourself out the ship while in hyperspace.

“Tech my darling” you called, his attention turning towards you with a slightly confused look on his face. “How would you feel about recording me like you record everything else?” your tone sultrier than the boys have ever heard it. Feeling his face heat up as you lean towards him giving him a better view of your cleavage that’s been on display all night. While his brothers got a good view of your rear, hoping their brother gave the right response.

“In front of my brothers cyar’ika?” he asked hopefully hiding the tremor in his voice due to your closeness. The sweet nickname in Mando’a sending tingles straight to your core.

“Wherever you want me Tech” you whispered in his ear kissing his jawline before settling back in your chair, a smile gracing your lips. Taking a moment to compose himself, Tech stood up taking your hand marching off the ship.

“I was hoping for a show!” Crosshair called after you two followed by laughter.

“Where are we going Tech?” you asked as he began to weave through the busy street to a small hotel. The twi’lek at the front desk offering you a smile and a room. You spaced out as Tech began to talk to him.

“Let’s go cyar’ika” Tech said guiding you to the lift, you wished the twi’lek a goodnight and his response was “have a good one for the both of us hon!” Once in the lift Tech’s hands were at your waist pulling you close to him before his lips crashed into yours. The doors opened to your floor; he led you to a room at the end of the hall. Soon as the lock clicked his hands were back on your waist, your arms around his neck. Pulling each other close until there was no room left between your bodies. Whatever you awakened in Tech tonight you did not regret. He pulled away from the kiss causing you to whine.

“No need to whine cyar’ika. I’m going to make sure you get precisely what you requested from me. Go sit on the bed” he commands directing you towards the bed in the center of the room. You crawl onto the bed sitting in the middle of the bed, sitting with your back against the headboard.

“For a moment I thought you were pulling my leg when you asked me. However, the way your pupils dilated once you were in close proximity to me. I also notice each time your thighs clench when you’re given an order by any of us. Though you are in a position to give orders you much rather them be given to you. Am I correct?” he asked as he got closer to the edge of the bed you nod in response. “Use your words cyar’ika or you won’t be receiving the night of pleasure I promised you.” The tone in his voice is one you’ve never heard him use, your arousal increasing by the second.

“Yes, you’re correct” your confident voice left behind on the ship. A chuckle escaped his lips at the sight of you, thighs clenched and pleading eyes for him to touch you. The way your confidence left you once you had his full attention made his cock twitch. Stripping out the top of his blacks discarding it on the floor. Bottom lip between your teeth as you admire how well built he is. He removes his shoes and his bottoms before sitting on the edge of the bed. He motions you towards him with the skillful fingers that you were hoping he was going to use on you tonight. Before you could fully reach the edge of the bed, he grabbed you pulling you into his lap. Your hands finding themselves on his shoulders. For a moment you sat and took in each other’s features. You knew he was handsome; the definition of his facial features made him even more stunning to you. His hand slid up your arm before cupping the back of your neck pulling you down for a searing kiss. The hand he placed on your waist pulled you closer to him.

“Strip for me cyar’ika” giving the command just above a whisper as he pulled away from your lips. Your fingers reach for the hem of your dress pulling it over your head tossing it somewhere in the small room. Stealing a quick kiss before sliding off his lap to pull your panties off.

Before they touched the floor he pulled you back into bed, quickly maneuvers himself above you. You can’t fight the urge to smile at him, even during this intimate moment your smile was still smitten. He gave a little smile back dipping down to kiss your lips, before moving down to your neck. He nipped and sucked your sweet spots leaving marks that you’ll have to cover once you’re back in the field. His hands cupped your breasts in rolling your nipples between his fingers deepening the kiss, tongue slipping in your mouth exploring it. His hands began to explore your body, his callouses against your smooth skin sent tingles through your body. Once he got to your thighs he groaned into the kiss. You’ve seen him stare at your thighs on numerous occasions, but you didn’t expect him to enjoy the feel of them this much. He begins to massage your thighs purposely going close to touching your soaked cunt before moving his hands away. Placing kisses and bites down your body, taking his time to elicit each sound from you. Sounds that he will listen to later in a case you aren’t in his reach. Finally reaching your clit, flicking it with his tongue causing a whimper to slip past your lips.

“Judging by that noise, you’re a little sensitive. Aren’t you cyar’ika?” he questions teasingly, before licking up your juices before sucking your clit in between his lips sucking on it gently while increasing his speed. Without breaking eye contact, two of his fingers enter your cunt going to work on your g-spot. The way his skilled fingers brushed against the spongy spot causes your legs to shake around his head instinctively trying to clamp shut. “Don’t” he growls pulling away from your clit for a split second before getting back to work. Your fingers find his light brown curls making a mess out of them as you reached your orgasm. You were barely forming words, coming out as broken babbles and breathy moans. Your orgasm came quickly, yelling out a stream of curses mixed with his name. Pulling out his fingers slowly he brings them to your lips for you to taste yourself and you do so without hesitation. He groans at the sight of you with his fingers in your mouth, pulling you into a dominating kiss once he removes them. “I want a taste for myself, but that will have to wait. I fear that I am far too impatient to wait to be inside you” he kneels between your legs easily wrapping them around his trim waist. He lines himself up with your entrance, before slowly entering you. Eyes fluttering shut at the feel of your velvety walls hugging his shaft. Head tossed back in pure bliss you barely believe that this is happening.

“Kriff Tech” you moan attempting to pull him closer with your legs. He pulls out of you slightly before thrusting back in, adjusting himself if need be. Finding a comfortable position his picks up the pace of his thrusting. Pinning your hands above your head with one hand as the other toys with your clit.

“You’re doing so well cyar’ika. Look at how pretty you look taking me” his praise makes you whine his name in a begging tone. “Imagine how pretty you’ll look once your full of my cum” His voice deeper than you’ve heard before. Your back arches, the thrusts hitting you in a more pleasurable way. The sound of skin slapping together echoed through the room, mixed with the moaning, whimpering, and groaning coming from the both of you.

“Tech I don’t think I’m going to last much longer” your sentence broken between moans.

“I’m not either cyar’ika” he grits out as the pace of his thrusts slow down. His cock twitching in you, “Where do you want me?” he asks finally letting go of your hands giving you the chance to wrap your arms around your neck.

“Inside please” you beg, nails digging into his upper back. One more thrust and he orgasm hits him, releasing in you but his thrusts don’t stop. He continues to lazily thrust in you rubbing your clit when you hit your second orgasm of the night. Screaming Tech’s name, not caring who heard the name of the beautiful man that brought you pleasure. You pull him down for a kiss as his cock begins to soften in you. “We’re doing this again sometime” a tired laugh escapes you.

“I agree. As well as I was correct about how pretty you look with my cum dripping out of you” he says pulling away, making sure this moment was in the recording, before ending it. He gets up going to the fresher, you hear running water, and a smile makes its way to your face. He walks back out picking you up with ease, carrying you to the shower. Let’s just say the neighboring rooms probably didn’t get much sleep tonight. This was the best confession ever made.

#the bad batch #tech x reader #the bad batch x reader #wrecker x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb tech #xreader #star wars #the bad batch smut #star wars smut

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wintaerbaer · 8 months ago

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things we don't say: part 6 (TEASER) (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (MINORS DNI)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 1.2k

teaser warnings: a very sad boy, references to sexual situations, brief mentions of child abuse, vomiting, someone has a wet dream, guilt, shame, a haircut

a/n: sincerest apologies that this series has gone so long without an update. i was struggling with some aggressive writer's block these past few months, but i think we're back in business! <3

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST

To say he falls into a state of depression may be an understatement.

He barely eats, barely sleeps, and while Taehyung has always considered you to be the center of his universe—his entire being oriented to you like a star—you’ve begun to haunt him in ways that you never have before. Reminders of you creeping into every minute of his days.

It’s passing your favorite ramen place on his way home from a photoshoot. Or finding a can of your favorite sparkling water buried in the back of his fridge. Or flipping past the cooking show you used to watch together or stumbling upon one of your sweatshirts in his closet or the fact that he still has that damn photo of you hanging up behind his desk.

You’re everywhere—your being so deeply ingrained into his life that he couldn’t erase you even if he wanted to.

And he certainly doesn’t want to erase you; he’s too selfish for that. Even now, even after he’s fucked up to catastrophic degrees by forcing his feelings on you, he still can’t bear to face you directly. Because he knows it would be the end of him for you to reject and abandon him too, even if he can’t blame you for it.

It keeps him up at night, thinking about what he could’ve done differently. How he somehow lost his handle on the control which he has always internally prided himself on (sans a drunken conversation with Namjoon last year where he spilled his guts as was met with a lack of surprise on his friend’s part). He’s always promised himself that he would never burden you, that his love for you was not your responsibility but something for him to manage on his own.

And yet, with you sitting so close on the hotel bed—looking absolutely beautiful in your simple PJs even after he spent the day with you all dressed up—his defenses had crumbled the second you pressed into his side and asked him the final question of your fateful game.

How could he not kiss you then? How could he not give you what you asked of him when he wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his very life if you required it?

But still, he spends hours each night staring at the white expanse of his ceiling wishing he had held back like he always did. Years spent training himself to resist the way his blood calls out for you reduced to naught the second he got his first taste of your lips. And now you likely hate him.

And as if it’s not enough for his brain to put him through this nightly torture, the guilt eating him alive, when he finally does manage to scrounge up a few hours of sleep, there’s the matter of the dreams.

He revisits the hotel room every night. Can taste you again, hear your moans, feel your mouth on him and your warm skin underneath his hands as his mind drags him back through every minute detail on a loop. It’s agony, having to both wrangle with the knowledge of how it felt to be with you as well as face his sins every time he closes his eyes. Realize just how badly he fucked up when he wakes to once again find the other half of his bed empty.

Because in spite of him spending years convincing himself that you were never meant to be, there’s still a small part of Taehyung’s subconscious that’s always carved out space for you in his life. It’s the part that stocks your favorite drinks in his fridge, keeps that photo of you pinned behind his computer, leaves a side of the bed open for you because he became so damn accustomed to sleeping next to you in high school.

He’d found that the bruises from his father didn’t hurt as much when you were sitting next to him making him laugh in your bedroom. That his brain would quiet enough from the terrors to allow him to sleep if you were there lying next to him. That he didn’t feel the dull pain, only the gentle touches of your fingers, as you carefully applied makeup onto the dark patches of skin before school.

It had been easy, then, to dedicate himself to providing you with the same support and care you had shown him in any way he could. To wish for your happiness above all else—his guardian angel through and through.

At least, that is, until he lost control in that hotel room.

One night, after a particularly vivid dream involving your body under his, he awakes to sheets that are soaked around his middle. He blanches at the evidence of his body’s desire for you even now, the horror at the audacity of his unconscious mind causing bile to churn and rise in his throat.

He bolts for the bathroom, barely making it there before he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet. His body shakes as he retches above the porcelain, guilt rattling his bones until he can hardly keep himself upright.

When the waves of nausea stop, when he can finally pull himself up to lean his elbows against the sink, he stares hard at the mirror and man he sees there.

He looks haggard, dark splotches sitting under his eyes and hair hanging limp around his face and over his forehead. The pale skin of his cheeks and lips is surely due, in part, to the vomiting, but there’s no denying that he’s a shell of his former self. A ghost just going through the motions of a past life.

And it’s there, peering through the darkness at his own reflection, that Taehyung decides he hates himself.

He’s not sure if it’s the raw disgust or the unrelenting shame that has him reaching for the hair clippers, but as his sable tresses begin to fall in chunks over the bathroom counter and floor, Taehyung thinks he deserves this.

He deserves the torment of his dreams. That disturbing combination of his wildest fantasies and nightmares rolled into one.

He deserves to wake up alone. To be reminded of his transgressions at the break of each day.

And he deserves to lose you.

Hell, he never deserved to have you.

The silence that follows the buzz of the trimmer seems at odds with the roaring in his head. Still, he manages to scoop the mess of hair into the trash before dragging himself back to the tangle of his sheets.

He finds himself right back in that cursed hotel room.

When he shuffles into the living room the next morning, still fighting the lingering tastes of bile and your lips, Jungkook and Jimin are already awake at the kitchen bar drinking coffee. They freeze at the sight of him; the pastry that Jimin was halfway to putting in his mouth hits the ground with a thud as Jungkook lets out a low whistle and simply shakes his head.

“That bad, huh?”

a/n: may or may not go back and revise this again for the final draft. in the meantime, a reminder that my ask box is always open! <3

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung smut #bts smut

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why4anne · 1 year ago

Text

Racing Hearts

Part: 1

Pairing: Jack Hughes x Reader

Word-count: 2k

Summary: F1 prodigy Y/N L/N finds herself with an unexpected crush on NHL sensation Jack Hughes.

Face claim: Madison Beer + others

Masterlist

“Do I have to do this interview?” I asked my media manager. I had just arrived at my hotel in Canada and apparently I had been scheduled for an Interview in an hour. “Yes, Y/N, you have to do this interview. The other guest has already flown out early to do this interview before the race-weekend starts and it will look really bad if you don’t show up” Sarah has been my media manager since I moved to F1 at the age of 19, which was 3 years ago and she was more than used to my antics by now.

“What is it even about?” I asked as I switched my attention from my phone to fully look at her.

“It’s something about 2 stars at the age of 22 or something. The other guest is Jack Hughes, a hockey player in the NHL” Sarah looked at her notes as she said this.

“Hockey player?” I asked, exasperated.”Sarah, I know nothing about hockey! What are we even going to talk about?”

“Don’t worry, the interviewer will make sure everything goes smoothly. You just have to sit there, smile and answer the questions.” It was obvious that she was fed up with my whining at this point so I decided to shut my mouth.

An hour and a half later I found myself in a white room with three mics standing on a table. I greeted a guy named Evan who was the host of the podcast that the interview was for and sat down in my seat, waiting for this other guy to show up.

Five minutes later I was making small talk with the host as the door opened and a man with light brown hair walked in and fuck was he hot. I found myself staring at him as he shook hands with Evan. I could clearly see his biceps under his white t-shirt and I would be lying if I said that they were small. But, before I could look for longer I found him in front of me with his hand outstretched. I quickly pulled myself out of my daydream and stood up to greet him.

“What’s up, I’m Jack” He introduced himself, his mannerisms and way of talking all screamed cool boy, which was very different from the pampered rich boys who were the majority of the people in racing.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you” I answered with a polite smile and shook his hand, locking eyes with him as I did so. I noticed how blue they were.

“Alright, if you both feel up for it I think we should get going” Evan interrupted our moment.

“Sounds good” Jack agreed and we both took our seats.

“Welcome back to the Sport podcast, today we are joined by not one, but two special guests. We have hockey superstar Jack Hughes, a 22 year old center of the New Jersey Devils. He was drafted first overall in 2019 and has just come off a career high season with 99 points and a playoff run.” Evan introduced Jack to the podcast and I couldn’t help but be impressed with his stats. My knowledge in hockey may be limited but the way that Evan was describing him made him sound like a really good player

“Hey” Jack said into the mic. I couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness .

“And we also have F1 protege Y/N L/N. She is currently the youngest driver on the grid but don’t be fooled, she’d been tearing up the grid for 3 years now and is currently looking like she might become the youngest World Champion in Formula 1 history, bringing the championship back to Ferrari for the first time since 2007.” Evan moved on to me.

“Ah, Evan, don’t jinx it” I smiled, all of my media training on the forefront of my mind and after years of this I would say that I’m quite skilled at the media game.

“Just keeping it real,” Evan chuckled. “Now, how much do you guys know about each other?”

Both me and Jack looked at each other, seeing who was going to answer first.

“Well, to be completely honest, I don’t know a lot about hockey so I’m kind of going into this interview completely blind, sorry” I admitted, feeling kind of bad for my lack of knowledge.

“No worries, I bet that you’re busy, " Jack reassured me. “I would say I’m a casual F1 fan, like I know the top teams and drivers”

"That's fair," I replied with a friendly smile. "I'm sure we can still have an interesting conversation, even if we're not experts in each other's fields."

Evan nodded in agreement and continued, "Absolutely, it's all about getting to know each other better and sharing some insights from your respective worlds. So, Jack, tell us, what's it like being a professional hockey player in the NHL?"

Jack leaned forward, his easygoing smile making him even more charming. "Being in the NHL has been a dream come true for me. It's intense, the competition is fierce, and the fans are incredibly passionate. There's nothing quite like stepping onto the ice in front of a packed arena. You feel the energy and the pressure, but that's what makes it all so exciting."

I listened to Jack's response with genuine interest, even though I had limited knowledge about hockey. He spoke with such passion and enthusiasm that it was easy to understand why he had such a successful career in the sport.

Evan then turned to me and asked, "Y/N, can you share with us what it's like being an F1 driver, especially at such a young age?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding, "Well, Formula 1 is an incredibly challenging and fast-paced sport with high pressure on the drivers and teams. As a driver, you have to be physically and mentally prepared for each race and you have to put up the results if you want to stay. I mean, there are only 20 seats in the entire world and if you’re not performing there is always another driver who will. I think going into it so young was both a blessing and a curse. It definitely put more attention on me as a driver, but at the same time I kind of got a head start.”

Jack nodded in understanding as I spoke. "Yeah, I can imagine the pressure, especially at such a young age. I mean, you're literally racing against some of the best drivers in the world. It must be quite the experience."

I appreciated his understanding, and I was starting to feel more at ease with the conversation. "Absolutely, and it's a constant learning process. But it's also incredibly rewarding when you have those moments of success and achieve your goals."

Evan jumped in, keeping the conversation flowing smoothly. "It's clear that both of you have a deep passion for your respective sports. What are some of the biggest challenges you've faced in your careers so far?"

Jack took a moment to reflect before answering, "One of the biggest challenges in my career has been dealing with injuries. Hockey can be a rough sport, and I've had my fair share of injuries that required a lot of rehab and patience. But it's part of the game, and it's made me stronger both physically and mentally."

I nodded in agreement, "In F1, the physical and mental demands are also immense. The travel schedule, the constant competition, and the pressure to perform can take a toll. Plus, adapting to different tracks and conditions is a unique challenge in itself. And, of course, there's the challenge of dealing with the media and public expectations."

Evan acknowledged our responses, "It's clear that both of your careers come with their own set of challenges, and yet you've managed to rise to the top of your respective sports. What advice would you give to young athletes aspiring to reach the level of success that you've achieved?"

Jack leaned in and said, "I'd say that dedication and hard work are essential. You have to be willing to put in the hours, stay committed to your training, and never give up, no matter how tough it gets. Surround yourself with a supportive team and use setbacks as opportunities to learn and grow."

I added, "I completely agree with Jack. In addition, I'd say it's important to keep a clear vision of your goals and stay focused. Stay true to your passion and love for the sport because that's what will drive you to overcome the challenges. And never forget that setbacks are part of the journey; they make the successes even more rewarding."

Jack nodded in agreement with my response. "That's some great advice, Y/N. Having a clear vision and staying passionate about what you do is crucial in any career, especially in sports."

Evan smiled and continued, "Thank you both for sharing your insights and experiences. It's clear that you're both dedicated and passionate individuals in your respective fields, and your advice is valuable for anyone striving for success. Now, before we wrap up, let's have a little fun. How about a rapid-fire round of questions for each of you?"

Jack and I exchanged amused glances, ready for the challenge. Evan fired off a series of questions, alternating between us.

"Favorite pre-game ritual?"

Jack answered first, "Listening to music that gets me pumped up."

I followed, "Visualizing the entire race, corner by corner, in my mind."

"Favorite post-game or post-race meal?"

Jack grinned, "Pizza, no doubt."

I chuckled, "A plate of pasta."

"Most memorable career moment so far?"

Jack's eyes lit up, "Scoring my first NHL goal. It was a dream come true."

I shared, "Winning my first F1 race. It was an unforgettable feeling."

As the rapid-fire questions continued, Jack and I found ourselves sharing more personal insights and even some lighthearted stories. We learned about our favorite travel destinations, hobbies outside of our respective sports, and our sources of inspiration.

The interview had transitioned from a professional exchange to a more relaxed and friendly conversation. Jack's charismatic and easygoing personality made it easy to connect, and I found myself genuinely enjoying our interaction. We even exchanged a few friendly jokes along the way, creating a comfortable atmosphere in the studio.

Evan, our host, couldn't help but smile as he witnessed the chemistry between us. "It's clear that you two are getting along great."

Jack nodded with a playful grin, "Yeah! Maybe we'll see Y/N at a hockey game one day."

I laughed, "Well, my media manager told me you’re attending the Canadian Grand Prix this weekend. Maybe I will see you in the Ferrari garage."

Jack chuckled, "I'll be sure to swing by the Ferrari garage and show some support. Maybe you can give me a crash course in F1"

I grinned at the idea. "Deal! And I'll make sure to catch a New Jersey Devils game when the opportunity arises. Maybe you can teach me a thing or two about hockey."

The interview wrapped up and Jack and I exchanged one last friendly smile.

"It was a pleasure, Jack. I’ll see you at the Grand Prix this weekend, I’ll be the one in red" I joked as we said goodbye.

Jack chuckled, "I'm looking forward to it. And if you ever want to catch a hockey game, just give me a call."

I chuckled, "I might just take you up on that offer. Best of luck with your season, Jack."

Jack flashed a warm smile as he nodded. "You too, Y/N. Good luck this weekend."

We both exchanged contact information and made plans to meet up during the Grand Prix this weekend. It was unexpected, but I had enjoyed our conversation, and I was genuinely looking forward to seeing Jack again.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, jackhughes and 1 242 635 others

yourusername: I had a blast on @/Sports_People today. Go check out their latest episode "Two stars under 22", where @/jackhughes and I delve into our experiences in sports.

view comments:

Sports_People: Such a great episode, thanks for joining us!

liked by yourusername

jackhughes: I had a great time! See you this weekend

- yourusername: I'll be the one in red!😜

holly_hockey: My two faves together? Yes please!

ferrarimorris: I'll be at the race on Sunday, hope you win! Forza Ferrari!

jackhugheswifeyyy: Of course she's pretty aswell, my chances are getting slimmer by the minute🤧

- caufieldsonfire: she's a brunette, don't worry

curiousgeorge: Move to McLaren please! We need youuuu!!🙏💀

#racing hearts au!#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #formula 1 #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #nhl #f1 fanfic #f1 #why4anne #Jack Hughes x F1 driver #hockey #Jack Hughes x F1 driver reader #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine

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abibliophobiaa · 1 year ago

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Epilogue: Love Was Made For Me And You

summary: a look into the current life of the harringtons (1.5k).

modern day!rich!fake husband (real now)!steve harrington.

masterlist

——

Two Years Later…

——

Tired, every inch of your body is sated and tired. Limbs stretch out beneath you, still tangled in bedsheets, the silky robe you pulled taut around your body rumpled, teasing along the tops of your thighs, lacy lingerie picked out specifically as a treat for Steve peeking out beneath.

For you, the treat had been teasing him throughout dinner beneath the endless lights in Paris, thigh slotting between his as you sipped your champagne, grinning salaciously as that broad hand of his skittered up and across your skin, finding your center already slick with want.

And then it had been the mad dash back to your hotel room, where he kissed you deeply beneath the moonlight, the Eiffel Tower illuminating his skin, the darkness of his eyes. It had been a darkened side street he pulled you into, back against stone walls, his knee between your thighs, whispering dirty things in your ear. It had been tangled fingers and stolen glances as your heels clacked against cobblestones, sultry looks in the packed elevator with the promise of more, until he pulled you back into your suite and thoroughly ravished you.

You spent many days in Paris like that — tangled in bedsheets, frolicking in busy city streets, sightseeing, taking in the gorgeous architecture and visiting museums. Basking in the fullness of the city of love and light.

Presently, your hand slides out over the mattress, expecting to find your husband still napping leisurely. Only he’s not there, the space where he had been still holding onto the warmth of his skin. A yawn pours from you, feet sliding over the edge of the bed, padding against chilly marble floors.

Outside you can see the beginnings of a beautiful sunrise. Sky tinged various shades of orange, pink, and red. The most beautiful sight of all, however, is that of your husband bent over the little table nestled atop the wrap around veranda. A button up — the same one you practically ripped off of him hours ago — rests on his form, baring his chest to you as you step out to join him. He’s clacking away on a keyboard, hair a little ruffled.

Hands slide down and over his shoulders, then over his pecs from behind, the muscles of his abdomen dancing at your feather-light touches as they trail a little too closely to the band of his boxers.

Teasingly, as always.

Humming, he leans his head to the side, fingers faltering on his keyboard at the gentle presses of your lips from shoulder to the hinge of his jaw, shivers making his body tremble against you. Always so responsive to you. Your voice is no more than a purr against the hollow of his ear, “Come back to bed.”

On his screen you can see his homework. Shortly after your one year wedding anniversary, Steve made the decision to go back to school and obtain a masters in teaching, with the intention of potentially working at a college, using his knowledge of working in his field for so long to help teach up and coming minds.

He’d been so excited, doing something completely and wholly for himself for once.

“I am trying to be a responsible student over here, Doctor Harrington. I had an assignment due.” Still, he closes his laptop, tugging you down onto his lap, a thigh for each side of his hips. He slides a hand up over your cheek, tipping your head up a little in a searing kiss. “Good Morning, honey. Sleep well?”

“I did.” You grinned into his lips, his firm palms dragging you over top of him so you could feel the hard outline of his quickly stirring cock beneath his boxers. “It’s our last day here before heading back home. How do you want to spend it, Mr. Harrington?”

He pretends to think on it for a moment, teasing lips against your cheeks.

“Hmm.”

He marks a trail along the curve of your jaw.

Noses at your skin, pulling back teasingly when you try to kiss him, dragging a thumb along your pout that blooms.

“I think…”

He cups both your cheeks within his broad palms, and you think maybe this time he’ll kiss you, but he finds your nose instead.

Moves upward to kiss your forehead.

Your temples.

“We should probably head back inside…”

He has you giggling by the time he reaches your collarbone, and then moaning when he drags liquid heat across your throat with insistent lips.

Gasping as his finger slips beneath your underwear, gliding through slick skin, teasing at your center.

There’s a shuffle of movement. You slide off his lap, he slips your robe off your form. That sleeved shirt of his falls in a heap beside it. And he finally kisses you once he has you writhing beneath him when you hurry over to the bed.

——

Harrington’s Haven is both an animal sanctuary and office for affordable veterinary care. It had been your dream once you graduated from your program. Your small team of veterinarians and staff grew over the past two years, establishing itself from its infancy into something you are so proud of.

Often you’d run charity events at local parties hosted by your husband to help with funds. Or community drives where you gathered supplies to help animals in need. It wasn’t long before newspapers touted the acts of the Harrington family — but none of that had ever mattered to you. You’d only wanted to make a space where you could lend a hand to areas in need. To people in need, making sure they always had an option to care for their furry loved ones.

You understood more than anyone, knowing where you came from.

And you’d do anything for your now three dog family home. Charlie had naturally needed a sibling, and thus entered in Chloe, his beloved shepherd mix best friend. After that, Steve had to literally pry your hands away from a cage when a shaggy looking puppy looked at you with too sad eyes, practically beginning to come home with you.

But he’d never been one to say no to you, and didn’t start that day.

Those same three dogs run around now in the park, chasing after frisbees and balls, stopping every so often to seek out pets from you and Steve.

Chrissy and Eddie sit beside you on your bench, Chrissy bouncing their newest addition on her lap. A giggly curly headed boy with endless wide, gummy smiles. They’d married a little over a year ago. Some grandiose affair that people were practically dying to get into — if only to catch the Corroded Coffin heartthrob marry the envy of women and men alike all over the world.

Soon after that, they’d announced they were expecting over dinner with the two of you. That same day, Chrissy had innocently asked if you and Steve had thought about having kids any time soon, wanting to raise them all together.

Right now, the two of you are content enjoying three years of marriage. Three years since you made that fateful deal back in your local coffee shop. Both of you want to travel the world, to experience new things, and advance in your careers.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll discuss the possibility of that new adventure further down the line.

But for now you’re happy with your three furry children, presently scampering over at Steve’s feet, pink tongues all on display.

“We should probably head back,” you tell them all, snatching Ruby’s leash from Steve, your newest puppy yipping excitedly at the baby dangling in Eddie’s hold, “our guests will be arriving soon.”

Back at the Harrington penthouse, you all gather around a long table in your dining room. Though you’d normally want to host on your own, food and all, with the endless hustle and bustle of your vacation and Harrington Haven, Mrs. Harrington had offered to take care of everything, wanting to care for her son and daughter-in-law.

A family affair, with all your closest friends sitting around the table. Your father and sister, bent low in conversation, looking up to smile your way. Hopper and his family. Robin and her new wife, Nancy. Chrissy and Eddie with the baby between them. Cami and her kids, her new partner with an arm wrapped around her form, completely besotted with her. Mrs. Harrington with her lover. Some big time movie producer she met at a gala, who she was presently ogling like you were ogling the endless array of food on your sprawling dinner table.

“I see you’re enjoying yourself,” Steve teases, leaning down toward your ear, thumbs brushing over your rings as he always did. “Is this everything you dreamed of?”

Lost in your daze, you don’t quite understand the question he’s asking. Is it everything you dreamed of this evening? In this life?

Endless thoughts swirl around in your head. All those moments that line up in a row, like stepping stones to get to this moment.

To this room, full of the people you love most. With this man.

And to think it all started with a deal and a contract.

“No,” you whisper, “it’s more.”

——

well. almost 90k words later and it is finished. i loved writing this little fic, and all the fun interactions that have come along with it. thank you for all the support, and i’ll see you all for the next update of right where you left me (because i can’t let steve go just yet). 🩷

#lunalovessteve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction

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mollymauk-teafleak · 10 months ago

Text

I wouldn't fall for someone I thought couldn't misbehave

I actually wrote a fic, go figure! Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for getting me into Hazbin and @hangsters for the support and love! I got a lot more where this came from <3

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

----

They've been told to live tonight however they want. And with tomorrow's Extermination looming and the Hazbin Hotel right in the middle of the target, there's only one thing Angel Dust wants to do.

And that's the bartender.

---

You didn’t wind up in hell without knowing fear. Whether you got there by painting it on other people or seeing it in your reflection or both, it didn’t matter, to everyone down below, fear was like an old friend.

And to Angel Dust, fear was like a toxic hook up whose calls he couldn’t make himself ignore after years of dissatisfying back alley orgasms.

All to say, he knew the taste of it, sharp like battery acid and sour like cheap, soapy lube. He knew how it sounded, laughter stretched so thin you could see through it, the whir of a camera lens pulling close to try and see where you were breaking. He knew how it smelled, sweat and latex and dry ice. He knew how it felt, cheap faux fur and overwarm, foreign skin.

Angel had been sucking fear’s dick for longer than he cared to remember. But what surprised him was that he didn’t see it here.

They should be scared. They should all be pissing themselves in terror. In who knew how many hours, the worst Extermination they’d known would descend, with their home and everyone in it smack bang in the center of the target. And Heaven wasn’t in the habit of missing their shot.

But when Angel knocked back another shot of top shelf whiskey, he didn’t taste fear in it. The laughter that surrounded him was real, all he could feel was a warmth that he wasn’t sure came from the drink.

Maybe this was what fear felt like when you didn’t face it alone.

“You’re staring.”

Angel didn’t have much of a defense, especially when he hadn’t even realized that Vaggie had moved onto the barstool next to him and jumped a mile when she started speaking, nearly spilling his next shot. Because he was busy staring.

So he took evasive action instead, trying to piece his cool back together, “Ain’t you got a girlfriend waiting on you upstairs? What are you still doing down here?”

“Finishing my drink,” she gave him a cool, bemused look, proving her point by draining the rest of her glass, “I don’t think any of us are in a position to be wasting alcohol tonight. Or time.”

“Thanks for the riddle, toots,” Angel rolled his eyes, taking the shot before someone else could come along and nearly make him spill it.

“Want me to say it plainly then?” Vaggie arched an eyebrow.

Angel scowled but he wasn’t mad at Vaggie, not really. He was more pissed at himself for not hiding it better. The five time winner of the Golden Tongue Award (for best performance in a pornographic visual production) should probably have been able to school his face.

He let his eyes wander across the bar, if there was no point in hiding it anymore. Husk was tossing a cocktail shaker from one hand to the other before sending it up behind his back, bouncing it between his wings, making it disappear and reappear before pouring out an electric blue liquid into Nifty’s waiting glass, to her immense delight. He bowed to the slight but enthusiastic applause, showing Angel a glimpse of the showman he’d been once upon a time.

It wasn’t just that he was handsome. It wasn’t just that he was Angel’s exact type and then some, that gravelly voice, the snark, the emotional unavailability, the tortured past that muzzled him, his boxes were well and truly ticked. If it was just that, Angel would have torn his clothes off, rode him on that bar and moved on with his afterlife.

But Husk had pushed back. He’d growled and snapped and thrown up more walls until Angel started to see getting the cat’s trousers off as a professional challenge. Robbed of his only way to safely interact with people, to feel like he was in control, Angel had fallen apart in front of him on one of the worst days he’d had in a while.

And all Husk had done was put him back together again.

So it wasn’t just that he was hot, there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. And there was the fear again, souring the booze on his tongue.

“I ain’t a fan of straight talking,” Angel grunted, hunching his shoulders and spinning the now empty glass on the edge of his finger.

“Figured,” Vaggie sighed in a way that might almost suggest she actually cared, hopping down off the barstool.

She looked ready to disappear up the stairs but something made her pause, maybe the weight of their borrowed time, maybe something dangerously close to sentiment. But she did stop, reaching out and putting a hand on Angel’s shoulder.

“All I’m gonna say…I’ve been told the only way to survive this is to fight for love. Find someone you can’t live without and go out there with one goal. Protecting them.”

Like a magnet, those words drew his eyes over to Husk again. And this time, he looked back, feeling his gaze. Those narrow yellow eyes, glowing like bulbs on a marquee or LEDs tempting a sucker to a slot machine, crinkled a little at the edges, shooting the spider demon a wink.

Angel groaned inwardly at himself. He was doomed and Heaven didn’t have anything to do with it.

“Someone like me don’t even know what love is,” Angel murmured, more to himself than to Vaggie, “Might as well be speaking a different language, sugar.”

But he heard him anyway, those damn sharp ears of hers, “Then what better time to make a change?”

Before he could shield himself with sarcasm, she was gone, off up the stairs to someone who loved her. To another heartbeat against her own, arms around her, a silent promise that she was cared about, no matter what the nightmares said. Angel felt a pang in his chest, somehow finding the poor sense to want something he’d never had.

“Another drink?”

Angel dredged up a crooked grin, “Sure! Put it on my tab, I’ll come settle up with you tomorrow night.”

“Very funny,” Husk poured him a couple more shots to keep him going, though he was now without other customers.

Charlie and Vaggie had gone upstairs, Cherri had dragged Sir Pentious over to the pool table where she’d definitely crush him, Nifty was curled up in an unnervingly cat like way, sleeping on the bar and making Angel wonder if there hadn’t been a sedative jn that drink Husk made her. Alastor was who knew where, Angel only cared that Husk relaxed a lot more when he wasn’t around.

This was the best chance he was going to get.

Let’s get to living. His own words from earlier that night tried to move his mouth, tried to force him forward, tried to stop him being such a damned fucking coward and just say something…

“Actually…I think I’ll turn in,” he seized the rest of the shots in various hands and sank them one by one, trying to wash away the bitterness, “My aim gets real shitty if I don’t get my beauty sleep. And if I’m gonna die tomorrow, like hell am I going down with bags under my eyes. Did it once, never again.”

If he was the kind to hope, Angel Dust might have tried to convince himself he saw disappointment in those slitted eyes.

But Husk only gave a rolling shrug, collecting up the abandoned glasses, draining them of their last clinging dregs of amber liquid, “Funny, my luck seems to get better when I’m hungover. Sweet dreams, kid.”

Angel Dust chuckled, putting a little swing in his hips, shooting a smile over his shoulder, “Ain’t no other kind with me, baby.”

One last lie for the road.

At least he didn’t sleep at all, choosing the cloudy headed middle ground of lying back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and prodding listlessly at the ache in his chest. It was like when his tooth had been knocked out, unable to keep his tongue out of the tender, empty gap, no matter how much it made him wince. Fat Nuggets did the sleeping for both of them, snoring on Angel’s chest, every gravelly honk ruffling the feathers pink robe that always made Angel feel like he could hold it together for a few more minutes than he would without it.

He was angry at himself but that was nothing new, only the reason was old. It had been a fucking long time since he’d promised himself he was done hiding, done paring himself down because someone else wouldn’t like the taste. Lying here, feeling sorry for himself because he was too chickenshit to ask a guy to fuck him, he may as well have been back in 1940, worrying himself sick that his dad would be able to see his secret written on his face.

Well, Angel Dust wasn’t Anthony anymore. And Angel Dust was losing his goddamn patience. The worst had happened and then some, he’d lost his family, he’d lost his home, he’d lost his life but the one thing he didn’t have to do was hide anymore. Husk was down there, he’d say no or he’d say yes, either way was better than being too damn afraid to know.

And if he felt more about it, well that was his problem to deal with. It wasn’t like he was going to live much longer anyway.

Fat Nuggets squawked a little as Angel Dust sat up, displaced from his comfy position.

“Sorry, sweetie,” Angel kissed the top of his head, trying to make up for it by tucking him nicely in his own little bed, “Daddy’s got some living to do. Last minute and all but you know me.”

A quick check of his hair in the mirror, a quick fluff of the fur on his chest, like he was going down to meet some doll by his car and get swept off the the dance hall rather than going to proposition his surly friend for a quick and dirty end-of-their-afterlife fuck. But there was no harm in looking his best while he did it.

His reflection in this mirror looked a hell of a lot different than the one in his studio dressing room. There were half a hundred tiny little flaws that would have earned him a sharp, cutting comment from Valentino and maybe worse, depending on the moth’s mood. But Angel Dust didn’t think Husk would care, in fact, he seemed to get further with the guy when he went in the opposite direction to what work demanded of him. So he left them, as much as a disconnected, confused anxiety itched at him, one that hadn’t realized they weren’t at the studio.

He took a deep breath, holding his own gaze tight, “You’re a pro at this, ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before. You know the steps, boyo, curtain’s up.”

Angel went to the door of his room, feeling buoyed, feeling confident. Until, of course, he ran into something he hadn’t seen before.

At least it was soft. Though it cursed like a sailor.

“What the fuck?” Angel yelped, feathers suddenly thumping against his face.

“Will you keep your goddamn voice down, you’ll wake half the fucking hotel-”

“Husk?” Angel stepped back, blinking in confusion, “Were you…were you outside my door?”

The other demon’s irritation collapsed, fizzing away like an alka-seltzer to reveal the bitch of a hangover underneath. Expressions he’d never seen on that feline face tried unsuccessfully to hide, embarrassment and coyness and a blush barely visible under dark fur.

“Look, I…can I come in? Please?” he tacked the politeness on the end like he almost forgot it while running out the door.

“Uh…sure, hon?” Angel Dust stepped to one side, suddenly wishing he’d tidied up a little at any point since he first moved in. Or that the dildos tossed about where a more impressive size.

Husk didn’t seem to relax a little until the door was closed, until they were definitely alone. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, an old antique in amongst a lot of plastic and rubber, while Angel leaned against the door and wondered how he’d lost control of this so fast.

Eventually Husk sighed, tail twitching and betraying his nervousness, “Look. Feel free to tell me to take a hike here, fuck knows you’d have the right. But…I kept thinking about what Charlie said. About spending this night living how we wanted or whatever. And I…I can’t think of anything else I wanted to do but…”

Angel Dust knew he was grinning like an idiot but he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t every day you got a royal flush laid out in front of you.

“What? What is it you wanna do, Whiskers?” he tilted his head, faux innocence sparkling in his voice as he batted his eyelashes, “Anything I can help you with?”

Husk’s fur bristled and he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, I knew you’d be like this, goddamnit-”

Panic gripped him, a terrifyingly certain realization that if Husk left now, if he drove him away, he wouldn’t be able to stand it, “Wait. Sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to fuck with you.”

The apology clearly caught the cat demon off guard, eyebrows rising. A small smile pulled at the edges of his mouth, “Well…guess that was the aim of my coming here…”

The grin came back, feeling more honest this time, more firmly in place. Angel stepped forward, offering one of his hands out to Husk, “Good…cos I was just on my way to ask you the same thing.”

He’d heard Husk bitch about his demon form a lot and in that moment, he could see why. Those ears and that tail were tells you could spot from a hundred miles. And right now they were telling Angel he was damn pleased.

Husk’s fingers- claws? -were calloused, whether from cards or chips or the keys of the sax he’d apparently played once upon a time. But they held Angel’s in a grip he could be certain of, one he knew instantly wouldn’t let go.

Angel had jumped on odds far worse than that.

They toppled onto the bed, swallowed by fur and silk. It took some maneuvering, making their strange forms fit but once they found it, it was fucking sweet. Suddenly there was a solid heat between his legs, something to grind into, fireworks exploding behind his eyes when he did. There was a smoky growl in his ear, a heady smell of whiskey and, fuck, Angel could have gotten drunk just off that. His hands moved of their own accord, two anchoring him to the headboard, the other two taking handfuls of soft, impossibly soft fur.

“Easy…” Husk rumbled when he pulled a little too hard.

“Sorry,” Angel Dust purred, splaying his legs wide, rolling his hips harder against Husk’s, “Just feels so good.”

Instead his hands wandered, finding where fur gave way to feather along that strong, broad back. The moment his fingers brushed there, that unfamiliar muscle, Husk jerked and moaned, the hardness in his trousers throbbing.

“Oh? Kitty liked that, huh?” Angel tittered, pressing one thumb into a hollow at the base of his wing, earning another strangled yowl.

“I swear to fuck, if you make me come in my pants like a goddamn teenager, I- fuck, baby, I’m sensitive there- ah…”

“I’d consider it a compliment, honey, don’t you worry,” Angel cooed, shivering happily at the way Husk’s chest vibrated when he touched him, like he was an instrument he could play.

“Call me old fashioned…”

Suddenly they were rolling, Angel Dust’s stomach dropping dizzily for a moment until he found himself straddling Husk, who was smirking up at him.

“But when I’m from?” he finished, voice sounding like everything amber and musk and honey in the world, “If you’re taking a fine man to bed, you let him take his pleasure first. It’s good manners, see? So how about you tell me what you want, Angel?”

Angel Dust was left with the sudden anxiety of having forgotten his next line in the script. Or worse, he’d never even fucking read it in the first place. The answer, perched miserably on the tip of his tongue was that he didn’t know.

He’d gotten too used to sex where the only thing that mattered was getting a good review, any pleasure he got was a secondary concern. He’d taught himself to like whatever his partner was willing to give, even when it called him a whore, even when it was too much, even when it hurt. The real pleasure had been the packet of powder or handful of pills that came after or before, not the sex itself.

His confusion must have shown on his face because Husk’s voice gentled, a paw coming up to lightly cup his face, “You want my mouth or my hands, baby?”

Angel Dust pushed his instincts away, “Mouth. I want you to tell me how I taste.”

Rolling again but this time, he enjoyed the free fall. Now Husk was between his legs, drawing down the sweatpants he wore to bed, just enough that he could free Angel’s dick. Angel kicked them the rest of the way off, letting Husk see all of him, legs falling open.

“Fuck…” his voice was melodic, hypnotic and hypnotized, “You look fucking gorgeous, baby…”

“And it’s all yours,” Angel panted raggedly, wrapping his long legs around Husk’s shoulders. For however long we’ve got left.

Husk’s purr sounded more like a car engine on its last legs, a rough and slightly threatening sound, but as he nosed and nuzzled at the base of Angel’s cock, it ran through his body like the best warm whiskey. In the dim light of his room, Angel could swear those spots on his wings were glowing, along with his eyes, which were fixed on Angel’s face like he was getting as much pleasure from watching him as he was from licking a broad stripe across his length.

Angel hissed, back arching up like his whole body was drawn towards that sensation, “Fuck, watch that sandpaper tongue…”

“Sorry. I’m kinda rough all over, baby,” he didn’t sound particularly sorry, flashing him a grin but he did ease up, hands taking hold of Angel’s thighs, keeping him spread wide so he could bury his face against him.

In the studio, Angel Dust had marks to hit, lines to gasp out, a camera to play up to. With Valentino, he had to make the right noises, he needed to sound scared, he needed to beg. But here, with Husk, out of reach of a script or a contract, he let moans and gasps pour heedlessly from his lips, he moved his body however it felt good. He was loud, loud enough to blow out a mic, he cursed and babbled things that didn’t make sense, he just felt .

Eventually the fur around Husk’s mouth was soaked, his jaw slack. He was good at this, unfairly good, lips and teeth and tongue all as skilled as you’d expect from someone who’d made a living by them. But now Angel Dust was the sole focus of their attention and he was drawn tight as a bow, ready to snap.

“Come for me, baby,” Husk’s rasp was almost animalistic now, “Let me hear you fucking sing.”

Angel Dust was more than happy to give him exactly what he asked for, giving a broken, soaring cry as his orgasm crashed over him, sinking him down into such an overwhelming sensation that he soon lost sight of the surface. Panic threatened but then a voice echoed to him.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes…” his own voice didn’t feel attached to his body so it was free to answer truthfully.

It was those lips that brought him back, a mouth that tasted of salt and opened to warmth, arms coming to circle him and anchor him down. Angel moaned, not able to care that his voice cracked unflatteringly as he did.

“Baby…”

“I got you, Angel, you did good, you tasted fucking incredible…” Husk’s wings settled over them, shielding him from the pink glow of his room.

He didn’t know how to tell him that the praise threatened to break him all over again, so Angel took charge this time, needing all four of his limbs to press the stronger demon into the mattress.

He licked the taste of his own come off Husk’s fangs and drew back just enough to gasp out, “You’re gonna fuck me so hard and so deep that if I go down tomorrow, I’m going down with your spunk inside me.”

“Of course that’s your fucking last wish,” Husk’s laugh was a gorgeous thing, a rough bark that made Angel think of smoky jazz lounges from another time.

He couldn’t help but smile, even if it was mostly bemusement, he wasn’t used to laughing during sex. It did feel pretty fucking good, he had to admit, having a genuine grin on his face as he pulled open Husk’s trousers. Though it quickly fell into awe at what jumped out and damn near smacked him in the teeth.

“Holy fuck!” Angel grinned in delight, one arm having good sense and stretching out to snag the bottle of lube in his bedside table, “Is that an overlord thing? They took the power but they let you keep the massive cock?”

“Shut up,” Husk rolled his eyes, where they snagged on the two hands now soaking their fingers and reaching around to his ass, “Mm…you’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“Heard a couple of people mention it,” Angel grinned down at him, shivering pleasantly as his hands got to work.

Husk’s eyes burned in the dim light, “Yeah. But do you know it?”

Angel Dust faltered, eyelids half closed. Another question whose answer flitted on his tongue but he didn’t want to let it go.

And again, he didn’t have to. Husk pulled him down, bending him near in half to kiss him. Unable to wait a moment more, his slicked hands grasped at Husk’s cock, drawing a hiss out of him that he gratefully swallowed. Angel sighed through the stretch and burn, sitting back and slowly, achingly slowly, every inch of Husk disappeared into him.

Angel was used to pleasures that dissolved quickly on his tongue and in his nose, leaving cold, bitter metal behind. This was something entirely new, something that felt like it was etching itself on every cell in his body, redefining words he thought he’d known inside and out. Pleasure. Sex. Need.

“Husk…” his voice was a tremulous, faint thing, like he was afraid to be heard.

“Oh, I knew you’d be like nothing else, baby…” the other demon groaned, thrusting up into him after a moment to let him settle.

There was no awkward shuffling now, they moved like a dance, like they could hear some music that didn’t exist outside of their bloodstreams. Husk’s hips rolled, Angel arched, two arms thrown up over his head, two others raking down his lover’s chest, leaving deep grooves in his fur. Before, his mouth had been occupied but now Husk sounded like- what else? -a cat in heat, yowling and gasping.

“That’s it, baby, take it, fucking take it, you feel so fucking good, Angel,” he moaned it like a title rather than just a name, like he’d done anything to deserve it.

“Aw fuck…” Angel Dust felt like he was going to shake apart, there wasn’t room inside him for all of this, he didn’t know where to put it all.

But he did know that he was about to come, hard. It was unstoppable, undeniable, and if he was half the pornstar he thought he was, Husk was on his heels. It was in the way his voice had shifted up a few notes, the way his grip on Angel’s hips had grown desperate, the break in the otherwise metronome perfect rhythm of his thrusts.

And that terrified Angel. All the fear he’d expected to find down in the bar, it thickened the air in his lungs like he’d taken an inhale from a real bad batch. Fuck, please, it can’t be over already.

But this was a fall that had to end. Husk’s hips shifted, heating that sweet spot inside him dead on and he was lost, every muscle tensing as he surrendered to his release. It was sweet and the low roar of his own name, the heat flooding so deep inside him he could damn near taste it, that was sweeter. This time when he broke, he willed himself to stay in those depths, stay in pieces, there was nothing for him on the surface.

But there was that voice again.

“Angel…fuck, that was…that was amazing, I…Angel?”

His muscles must have switched off at some point but Husk had caught him, he was sprawled out across the other demon’s chest, their bodies still joined somewhere within the lovely, thrumming haze where the rest of him used to be. But his eyes prickled, heat running down his cheek, dripping onto Husk’s fur where oh fuck no, he’d felt it…

Angel flinched back from the sting of his own tears, bringing an arm up to try and hide, like there was even any point. He rolled off Husk, hunching down as small as he’d go, shoulders trembling.

“It’s nothing, I…” What are you doing, idiot? “...don’t worry about it, it’ll stop…” Dumb fucking slut, you’re ruining it! “...just give me a second to put myself together…” Like you have any right, get a grip “I’m sorry.”

“Angel.”

He listened miserably, waiting for the creak as the bed lifted without his wait, waiting for the sound of soft paws on the floor and the click of the door closing behind him. But it never came.

“Angel, can I touch you? That alright, baby?”

He managed to nod, surprise mostly shocking his muscles into moving. There was a shift, a whisper of silk and then soft fur as strong arms wrapped around his middle, embracing him with a deliberate light touch that would let Angel pull away at any point. Another heartbeat, slowing as the adrenaline ebbed away, drummed against his back like a knock at the door.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Husk murmured against the fur between Angel’s shoulder blades.

“Nah,” Angel croaked, inhaling deeply, finding that warm whiskey smell again and relaxing, “We ain’t got the time.”

“Fair enough,” he accepted it easily, much to Angel’s relief, “Just get some sleep, okay? I’m gonna stay right here.”

He couldn’t help it, however much it made him feel like a child, “Promise?”

“Of course I promise, Angel,” there was an edge of sadness to his voice, more than the usual, not at having to say it again but at the fact that he needed to ask, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me. However long we got left.”

Angel smiled grimly. The second wasn’t fucking long enough to allow him the first. Just his luck to find exactly what he’d been looking for in the last few hours he had to live.

But he would take what he’d been given. Angel always had.

He turned, burying his face in Husk’s chest, feeling his rough but pleased chuckle, “Best roll of the dice I think I ever made, coming to your door…”

Angel Dust allowed himself a moment to smile at that. To feel wanted. To feel precious. Whatever happened tomorrow, he’d remember this feeling.

Whatever happened tomorrow, he wouldn’t face it alone.

#huskerdust #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #smut #please reblog and comment!#just a little idea of what could have happened before the finale episode

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whiskey-bumblebee · 7 months ago

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good luck, babe!

Pairing: Elle Greenaway/Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1600

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, sad ending

A/N: I could not tell you where this came from but here it is

In the dark, alone, in the middle of nowhere, always looking over her shoulder; these were the moments you had with Elle, but you'd rather have a little bit of her than none at all. Her lips were warm and soft against your own, and you laughed quietly when you reached up to touch your lips and found her lipstick there. You wanted to leave it, you wanted it to stay there forever, until the investigators you worked with finally put two and two together. Her shade, your mouth. Proof.

Proof that you weren't imagining it all, that you had her, even if nobody knew that you did. You felt like everyone knew she had you, thought that it would be obvious by the way you looked at her when she was talking, like she was a comet and you were the astronomer who had spent your life looking for it.

Your lips must have stilled, mind too busy to remember what you were doing, and Elle pulled away.

"What?" You said, as if you didn't know what the problem was.

Now that her eyes were open, she looked down at your lips and passed you a tissue from her center console.

"We should go."

You looked at your watch. "You still have a few hours left of the stakeout. What if he turns up right after we leave?"

"I have a bad feeling."

"About him or about us?"

She frowned at you. It always made you feel like a child, the patience and grace of the cool older kid having run out. Silent, rejected. There was nothing you could do to convince her.

Her phone rang.

"Still awake?"

It was Hotch.

"I think I might call it a night. There's no movement."

"Morgan and Reid are on their way there so you two can get some sleep. I'll see you back at the station at eight."

You groaned. That was barely three hours from now.

Elle's eyes shot over to you, and she muted the phone quickly.

"Elle? Is someone with you?"

"Shut up," She hissed at you, before unmuting the call.

"Just the windshield wipers, I think they're out of fluid."

You heard Hotch hum affirmatively over the line.

"Morgan should be there soon. Bye."

Elle snapped her phone shut, then looked back at you.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Get out."

"What? We're miles from the hotel, Elle-"

"Walk a couple of blocks that way. I'll pick you up when Morgan gets here."

"It's freezing out there."

Elle rested her head in her hands.

"Do you want to explain to Morgan why you're here, with me, when you're supposed to be sleeping?"

"No, but-"

"Get out. I'll pick you up soon."

You felt your face falling and got out of the car before Elle could see your lip wobbling and your brow furrowing. Hot, frustrated tears spilled over your cheeks and you wiped them away roughly with the corner of your sleeve. You walked fast. You couldn't remember which way the hotel was, but it didn't matter.

___

"C'mon Elle, there has to be somebody," Penelope smiles.

She's looking everywhere except you, and it stings like a slap to the face.

She opens her phone and pulls out a picture of her kissing some guy's cheek. The background is blurry, but it looks like a bar somewhere. The next photo is her smiling widely, her arm wrapped around his neck as he laughs. You feel like you're going to be sick.

"It never lasts," She grins, with a shrug. "Just the way I am, I guess."

"Or the job," JJ interjects. "It's hard, with these hours."

"That too." Elle raises her drink. "Well, here's to my girls."

Nobody notices that your smile doesn't reach your eyes when you clink your glass against theirs.

___

In a bout of desperation, you have a dozen red roses delivered to the BAU, with nothing but a heart written on the tiny card. All you want is for Elle to look at you, to blush, to thank you, to acknowledge that you exist. While you were sitting at your desk, waiting for the delivery, you made the mistake of imagining an even better outcome: Elle running across the bullpen, arms wide open, and planting a kiss on your mouth in front of everyone. She gives some speech, saying that she doesn't care who sees, she doesn't care what they think anymore. The two of you laugh and rest your heads against each other, smelling the roses.

It's a mistake.

"It's a mistake," Elle shakes her head, looking the card over. "Wrong address."

She drops the roses easily into the bin beside her desk, and turns back to her computer.

JJ stares at her. "I could take them. If you're just going to throw them away."

"They're not mine," Elle says harshly.

"Well, someone should enjoy them." JJ stoops down and picks up the stems tenderly, and Elle wrests them from her grasp, tearing the card from the cellophane.

That attracts everybody else's attention again.

Elle crumples the card into a ball and puts it on the far corner of her desk.

"Elle? Everything okay?" Gideon asks, halfway through a file.

"It's fine. I just don't think we should be reading a card that was meant for someone else."

JJ tenderly presses the roses back into their original position, and the way that she's being so careful with them is somehow the thing that breaks you.

A couple of sobs tear their way from you before you can make it out of the bullpen, and it's Reid who finds you in one of the interrogation suites, fighting for air. You're crying like your heart is broken, and you just hope to god he can't tell.

"I'm just," You take a deep breath. "I'm just on my period. And I think it's so sad that the person they're meant for won't get them."

Reid is so taken aback that he just clears his throat and nods. When you make your way back to your desk, you can tell that everyone is watching, like you're an animal who's been hit by a car but is still trying to cross the road. The roses are in a vase on JJ's desk, and there's Midol and chocolate on yours.

"Reid told us you were-" Elle says, and you can tell from her tone that she'll never forgive you. She nods at the painkillers. "Hotch got them for you."

Hot embarrassment burns in your veins, and you don't know how you'll ever be able to show your face here again.

Later, Elle corners you in the bathroom, her back against the door so no-one else can come in.

"This," She gestures between you and her. "-is over. That was insane."

"Elle-"

She turns to leave.

"There was never anything here anyway!" You yell, not caring who hears. "A million times, I asked what I meant to you, and you never told me. You never said 'I love you'. We hide in parked cars in dark alleyways and you're so goddamn embarrassed of me that you never even look at me. Half the time I feel like you wish I was dead. Like I'm this inconvenience that you tolerate. One day you're going to wake up in a loveless marriage with some guy who thinks you're the love of his life, and he's going to buy you roses and you're going to swallow it all down and smile and pretend you're happy and you won't be! You'll be fucking miserable because you can't accept that you and I are the same," You're breathless as you finish, and your shoulders are heaving. "You can't accept that you love women like you think you should love men. And God, if you lose me, that's fine, because I know you don't give a damn, but fuck, I don't want to watch my best friend lose the rest of her life because she can't look in the mirror and call things what they are."

She's silent, the door slightly ajar. You'd been watching her face so intently that you hadn't noticed that she'd opened it.

You close your eyes, take a breath, and push past her, slipping through the door. You know she won't chase you. You've run a million times and she never has. A thousand ultimatums never changed anything.

Hotch is right outside, staring, his mouth agape.

You throw your gun and badge at his feet, and leave without a second glance. He's calling your name, but you don't hear Elle's under his baritone, so you don't care.

There's a sick feeling of relief, of freedom, as you unlock your car door and drive home, knowing all of the things that had been certain this morning are in the past now, knowing that all of a sudden, none of your tomorrows will look like today or the day before. The BAU is in your rearview mirror, and you know it'll stay there. You know that as soon as you make it home, it'll all come crashing down, all of the grief, all of the ending-feelings landing at once, all of the last two years imploding. You'll never wake up next to her again. All of the almosts, all of the 'maybe she'll change', the uncertainty finally answered. And it's not the answer you wanted, but at least it's an answer. But for now, you're driving with the windows down, and with every breath you take, you remember what you deserve. You remember that it looks nothing like Elle.

#elle greenaway #criminal minds #elle greenaway/reader #elle/reader #elle greenaway x reader #reader insert #fanfic #my writing

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busines-as-unusual · 7 months ago

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˖ ࣪ ⭑⟡Chapter 6 - Haunt You, Taunt You ⟡⭑ ࣪ ˖

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

If your theater was your business, then your club, The Temple, was your pleasure.

You won the building in a gamble with the previous owner and had been lovingly pouring time, money, and elbow grease into it for decades. Unlike the speakeasy you ran while alive, you didn’t have to split your time between laundering money and smuggling liquor (Hell had no taxes or laws prohibiting… well anything). It allowed you to redesign the club a couple of years or so, reshaping the three-story building into a blend of the old and new. It was uniquely yours.

The many, many guests you had the honor of hosting were a mixture of demons young and old, sinners and hell-born, rich and broke. You prided yourself for having a club tamer than most establishments in Hell. Sure there was plenty of sex and drugs going on within the walls, you weren’t a wet blanket after all, but it was important your club felt like a safe place for all demons. Jet, your head of security, had his team spread throughout the club to keep an eye out for troublemakers.

The atmosphere was enhanced by the wide variety of music the club played; a blend of big band, ragtime, bebop, and the new trend they called electro-swing. Live or canned, so long as you could dance to it, it was welcomed.

You loved to dance. Once you stepped foot on American soil your feet never stopped moving. You loved the freedom in every wild, improvised move. You loved the adrenaline of a natural high. You loved the control. Control over one’s body to make it all look effortless was a skill you often practiced.

Most of all, you loved the fun it brought to every participant regardless of skill. Much like in the bedroom, the dance floor was a place where everyone was equal.

You showed the club off to your guests, pride swelling in your chest as they appreciated your baby. You took in Alastor’s face, careful not to let him catch you staring at him. His opinion mattered the most.

You set them up in a large, rounded corner booth and a responsible amount (as per Charlie’s request) of free drink vouchers.

Dragging Angel to the dance floor, you led the taller demon in a dance. He spun you around with a laugh before passing you off to an eager Charlie.

After a round of drinks they all went off in different directions: Angel and Husk to the bar. Charlie found some stray sinner to infodump about the hotel to. She chatted them up at a million words a minute with only Vaggie to keep her coherent. Niffty inquired where the cleaning supplies were and you told her to go nuts without a second thought.

Then you were all alone with dear old Alastor. The reds of his being hardly overshadowed by the club lights. He sat dead center of the curved booth with you not too close to him or the edge. You didn’t want to look like you’d flee at any moment.

You downed your second whiskey sour with a shudder. Elbow on the table and warm cheek in your hand, you beamed up at him. “Soooo Alastor, what do you think? And please be honest, I know you don’t care if you hurt my little feelings.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it dear,” he said through his pointed teeth. You struggled not to roll your eyes. “I’ll happily admit the atmosphere and music is not terrible.”

You snorted, very ladylike and refined. “I’ll have to put your glowing review on my door. ‘Not terrible’ says the Radio Demon! That’ll bring in the customers.”

“Please go right ahead and use my endorsement free of charge.”

“Gladly.” You traced the rim of your empty glass with a finger. “You ever hear how I got this place?”

“Ah yes, I remember you won it in a gamble, correct?”

“But you want to know what game we played?”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in interest and nodded. You simulated shooting yourself in the temple with your fingers. “Angelic steel bullets.”

His look of genuine surprise was not missed by you. You laughed the way you always did when you told the story.

“I’m always amazed by the desperate lengths others will go for any scrap of power,” Alastor said. “Though, not surprised.”

“Easy for you to say, Magic Man.” You sipped your drink, hiding your smile as his soured in slight annoyance. “The rest of us don’t have it so easy and have to take desperate risks.”

Alastor made a sound akin to rolling one’s eyes, sparks of radio static accompanying the noise. “Well, doll, I’m certainly glad you’re under the illusion my rise of power was effortless.”

Another laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”

The tale of how Alastor the Radio Demon grew to power was well known even these days, but the finer details of his rise were shrouded in secrecy. He no doubt relished in how the uncertainty stoked fear in the hearts of sinners. However he did it, he accomplished it all single-handedly, smile never faltering. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t in awe of him.

You’d never come right out and tell him. You stroked his ego enough for tonight.

Alastor sipped his whiskey, preferring to swish it around than to drink it, as he only ordered it upon your assistance. “Tell me, Temerity. Why have you settled in the role of a mere manager?”

Frown forming, you looked at Alastor with displeasure. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean no disrespect, my dear. I’m simply expressing that with your capabilities— and I don’t say this lightly— you could easily make your way to become quite an Overlord. I can’t help but look at you and see… wasted potential.”

Should you feel insulted or flattered? The unnatural tilt of his head in confusion told you he meant it as a compliment. While beyond flattered in his casual belief in you, his dismissal of your job offended you.

“I didn’t settle for this. I chose this. I don’t want the responsibilities of a sovereign overlord with all the meetings and targets on my back.”

”Very well, but I must say it’s rather foolish to be in the position you are and not work to gain more power.”

“I find people who pursue power for power’s sake are never satisfied. The position I’m in lets me do whatever I want. I’m truly free. How many people down here can truly say the same thing?”

Alastor’s smile thin-lipped and his eyes shifted eyes from yours for a split second. You thought maybe you said something wrong or offensive to him somehow. He sipped his drink. “I suppose that line of thinking is where you and I differ.”

You shrugged and polished off your poison. You had no issue with his beliefs, but living by them didn’t align with your afterlife goals.

The two of you lapsed into silence, music filling in the space where your words once hung. You appreciated how Alastor never felt the need to fill every moment with noise. So many people stuffed every second with noise as if a moment of quiet would result in some kind of social disaster.

The song faded into the next, and this was one you loved; an upbeat, fast-paced number kicking off with a blast of saxophones. Either emboldened by the conversation or the alcohol clouding your judgment, you stood with a flourish and held your hand out to Alastor. An invitation.

“Dance with me.”

He met your question with an eyebrow raised in amusement. Crimson eyes flicked from your hand to your eyes, and you resisted the urge to look away or shrink under the heat of his eyes.

Finally, “And what of the cutlery strapped to your thigh?”

“I’ve been at this a looong time. Believe me, they’ll stay put.”

He decided to believe you. Relief swept over you like a steamroller. With a chuckle, he placed his hand in yours and it felt like victory.

Your grin spread as wide as one of Alastor’s as he dragged you to the dance floor. Alastor led you into a basic back-and-forth two-step. Eager to follow, you pranced along. He spun you in circles; dark dress fluttered around your legs.

Greed spiked in your gut. You wanted more. You pulled Alastor into a twist, effortlessly resetting the dance to your pace. Alastor adapted. Light on your feet, you two flicked your legs back and forth in tandem.

Your heart pounded in your chest. This was a dream. It had to be because there was no way in Hell Alastor was here dancing with you so well.

Alastor twirled you away before snapping you back to him, slammed flushed against his body. He locked eyes with you; smirk utterly patronizing, as if charmed by a child.

Your cheeks heated, jaw clenched in irritation. Before you could open your mouth, Alastor tugged at your waste. A warning. He swept you off your feet like you were weightless and flipped you in the air. A gasp retched from your lips. Feet back on the ground, you didn’t miss a step. The dance floor was ice under your feet.

No surprise, Alastor liked to play dirty. You hoped he didn’t mind a taste of his own medicine.

You distanced yourself from him, then tumbled forward into a practiced backflip. Your legs wrapped around his shoulders. He grabbed you by the thighs and tossed you over his head.

Instead of your feet finding solid ground, you slid. Alastor dipped you low, your back practically parallel to the floor. Instinctually, you grabbed onto his shoulders. Alastor grinned wickedly down at you, but this wasn’t like his previous look of condescension. Pupils blown wide, mouth splitting his face, he looked hungry.

There was a twist in your chest, your head, your core. Warmth washed your skin. Tension bubbled in your throat. You laughed, childish giggling wracked your body as Alastor righted you.

If people were looking at you, you didn’t notice. Alastor clouded all five of your senses. Your chest heaved as your laughter subsided and you wiped at your sweaty forehead with the back of your hand. Somehow Alastor looked like he never broke a sweat. Unfair.

“What a marvelous performance, my dear,” Alastor said.

“Surprised?”

“Not at all.”

You swallowed thickly, the intensity of his gaze too heavy to bear any longer. A glance at the bar. “I’ll grab us some water.”

You skipped away before he could accept or decline. Wading through the sea of people, you made it to the bar, squeezing into a semi-vacant spot at the counter.

Catching sight of Husk and Angel Dust chatting at the end of the bar, you waved. Angel returned the gesture with a ruder one, Husk rolled his eyes.

You chuckled as the bartender, Collie, set two cocktails down in front of the well-dressed sinner on your left. He grabbed his drinks and turned to leave, and you saw it. One drink was an unmistakable shade of pink, almost unrecognizable under the club lights.

Your teeth ground against each other as you glared at the demon’s retreating form wading past patrons to the second story.

At least he made this a little easier for you.

“Collie, dear,” you said, pushing yourself off the counter. “Have Jet ready to handle some trouble. I'm going upstairs.”

Alaster watched as you zeroed in on a sinner. You cut the tacky dresser off in the middle of the staircase, a saccharine smile foreign on you. Sweetness no doubt dripped from your voice as the demon leered at you, enticed by your words. He nodded and followed you upstairs, eyes glued to your swishing tail.

How peculiar.

He wouldn't put it past someone with your specific proclivities to get distracted by their libido, but something told him this wasn't your usual M.O. with a man.

Not with the way you eyed him with murderous intent.

Curiosity took over. Alastor dissipated his form, using the shadows to follow the two of you to the second floor past intoxicated patrons. You led the man to an empty room with a plush leather wrap-around couch with glass tables doused in blood-red lighting.

You welcomed him to inspect the room as you shut the door. “With this package you’d get drinks and food delivered to you and your guest, a TV with Voxflix, privacy. This room is perfect for more intimate gatherings.”

The sinner turned to you, appraising you like one of the decorations in the room. You slinked toward him, hand snaking up your thigh under your dress. For a moment Alastor wondered if he was wrong about his previous assessment.

Then, you were on him, knife drawn, slicing the sinner's hand clean through the wrist.

The demon howled in pain. Drinks dropped, glasses shattered on the floor, liquids mixing with the spilt blood.

The demon grabbed at his dismembered wrist. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

He lunged at you. Quick as a flash, you leapt out of the way. You sunk the blade into his shoulder and <i>twisted</i>. He dropped to his knees, grabbing at the knife with a hand no longer attached to his body.

You dug your heel into his back and wrenched the knife from his body. You wiped the bloodied blade off on his jacket before sliding back into the garter on your thigh.

“Hand it over,” you said, voice colder than Alastor ever heard it before. Chills ran up his spine, a sensation he rarely felt anymore.

“Fuck you fucking raccoon cunt!”

“Charming.” You rummaged through the inner pockets of his jacket while he sputtered profanities until you found what you were looking for. Alastor didn't recognize the heart-shaped vial of pink liquid, but it clearly filled you with disgust. “Fucking filth.”

With a sneer, you dropped the vial. Liquid spread like blood across the floor, pink miasma wafting harmlessly into the air.

A hand came to your nose and mouth as you turned away from the wounded man. From the shadows, Alastor had a front row seat to your full display of emotion.

You were distressed.

He took in your lovely expression of panic. Eyes wide and darting, as your thumb dug too hard into the fat of your cheek. You heaved a heavy, shaky sigh to calm yourself.

Much like your look of wrath, panic suited you quite nicely. Your shocked expression as he dipped you on the dance floor was swell, but nowhere near as impassioned and raw as this.

Unfortunately, there was no time to savor it. One of your brutish security guards entered the room and you slipped your mask back on. He regarded the bleeding man on the floor with disinterest. He lifted the wounded demon over one shoulder like a sack of garbage.

“Out back? Like usual?”

You nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Jet.”

He carted the trash away, and Alastor decided to make his presence known. He stepped out of the shadows with applause, savoring how you jumped. “Splendid show, Temerity dear! I didn't expect such a brutal display after your performance on the dance floor.”

“Alastor!” You brushed herself off, smearing blood across your dress; bright red streaks across the dark fabric. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

You weren't apologizing for the violence, of course. With his rap sheet of carnage that would be silly.

“Don't apologize on my behalf, doll.” He stepped closer, and when you didn't step away, he wiped a speck of blood off your cheek with a finger and licked it clean. He didn't expect the simple act to have panic blossom across your pretty little face again. He had to admit he liked it better this time, having been the one to cause it.

Before he could delve more into your responses, Niffty scrambled into the room, a tiny tornado. Trash bag in tow she grabbed the broken glass and the severed hand and tossed them into the bag.

“Tem, your club is filthy, filthy! I'll be back with bleach, hahah~”

As soon as the little bug entered, she left, trash dragging behind her like a body bag.

You used the interruption to slither out of Alastor's grasp to the door. “Soooo! I believe I still owe you a water.” And you all but ran from him, tail between your legs.

Fine. You could run. He'd catch you eventually.

What did you do?

No, seriously, the FUCK did you do?

Why did you literally throw yourself at Alastor like some kind of horny, sexy tomato? Okay, so you were a horny sexy tomato, but you were a horny, sexy tomato who knew better than to throw itself at Alastor the goddamn Radio Demon!

You’d have been better off inviting a vampire into your home and offering up your neck for the taking. The simile did you no favors equating it to Alastor.

“I’m not drinking again.”

“Ha! If I had a dollar for every time you’ve said that. I’d have, what, eight bucks now?”

You and Rosie strolled through Cannibal Town after your morning tea. Since working with the hotel, your morning meet-ups weren’t as common, so you took the chance to vent to your friend about the night at the club. As suspected, she reacted to your ravings with one part gaiety and one part vexation.

“Rosie, I’m serious.”

“You’re too serious, hun. You just told me about this fabulous dance you shared with Alastor and somehow in your mind, it’s a bad thing.”

“Yes! Nearly a century I kept my distance and now all of a sudden he’s under my skin like some kind of…” you rolled your hand, trying to think of the right word. “Skin bug.”

“Poetic.”

You rolled your eyes. You haven’t even mentioned the stunt he pulled with the blood on your face... Were there even words to describe the sensuality of it? Maybe, but every time you revisited the moment, you were too preoccupied with the softness of his touch against your skin, how his tongue darted from his perfect lips to lap at the crimson liquid, how his eyes, still glazed with hunger, never left yours.

Rosie was talking, you realized. You stored the memory for later and zoned back in.

“I’ve always thought you two should get to know each other,” she said. “Alastor’s a great fella.”

Silence possessed you. You unlinked arms with Rosie and sat on an ivory bench made of bone. “You know the story of Tantalus? How he’s neck deep in a river with fruit above his head but no matter what, he can’t eat or drink? That’s my current situation, only in my case the fruit and water know they’re unattainable sustenance and derive joy from it.”

Rosie made a noise of dismissal, waving away your metaphor. “Oh, so melodramatic! I can see why you run a theater.”

“Ha ha.”

“Temerity.” She sat with you, taking your hands in hers. “This is a good development. Alastor has a tendency to be… standoffish, but it’s obvious he genuinely enjoys your company. You think he’d dance with anyone?”

She was right, and you knew she was right. Why couldn’t you be satisfied with that? “I know. I’m not saying I wish he’d give me a chance because I’ve met those men, killed those men, then sent those men your way—”

“—Thanks again for the late-night delivery the other day.”

“Of course, hun. I’m not in the business of pushing boundaries, but I can’t help but feel that way from time to time. I hate myself for it.”

“Sweetheart.” Your friend’s voice was gentle, full of sympathy. “You can’t help how you feel. And what you’re feeling isn’t wrong.”

You laughed, meaning for it to be light, but it caught in your throat and quickly died. “This isn’t going to end well for me, is it Rosie?”

She opened her mouth to say something comforting but paused and closed her mouth again. Rosie wouldn’t lie to you. You both knew this road would lead to heartbreak, the only variable was how humiliated you’d be in the end.

“Tem, if this is bothering you so badly, then you should go ahead and tell Alastor how you feel. Get it all out of the open so you can move on.”

”No!” You cleared your throat. “I mean… I can’t, I…”

You were fucking terrified.

Rosie would never shame you, you knew this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud. It felt foolish to admit it out loud. On earth and in Hell, you’ve been beaten, bloodied, and bruised. You’ve had a knife to your throat or the barrel of a gun to your head more times than you like to admit, yet the idea of confession and rejection terrified you more.

You liked to think, it made perfect sense. In your experience, pain was fleeting, much of it mercifully unremarkable or a distant memory. But the pain of rejection, well…

You’ve dealt with that since the day you were born.

Your one scar that never fully healed.

Despite never vocalizing your fears, Rosie understood you. “I know it seems daunting, but I think Alastor may surprise you.”

“Right, because Alastor extended such grace to Vox.”

No one knew the truth about Alastor and Vox. Most took their rivalry at face value, but older demons remember the rumors; the Radio Demon forming an alliance with the up-and-coming Overlord, the alleged relationship in stark contrast to their current mutual antagonism.

Conversely, you always suspected Rosie knew more than she ever let on. Your friend, usually so fond of gossiping, kept her lips buttoned on the subject over the years. She claimed it was improper to talk about such manners behind a friend's back, and while you weren’t convinced you never pressed.

Rosie sucked pointed teeth in exasperation. “Come now! Your relationship with Alastor is not comparable— don’t give me that look, you know what I mean. Hold out for a little while longer. I’m sure this’ll all blow over soon.”

You hoped she was right

You once again found yourself at the hotel bar, laughing at something Angel said as Husk poured you two a drink. Angel held his Fat Nuggets, the cutest little pig in his second set of arms.

“And you seriously don’t know what kind of pig he is?” you asked, flabbergasted.

Angel shrugged. “I dunno. He’s… a pig.”

“He’s a Hell Hog!”

“A little redundant, ain't it?”

“No, well yes, but… never mind.” You pet the porker on his pink little head. “How’d you get your hands on this lil cutie, anyway?”

“Nuggs was… a gift. From my boss.” Angel set the piglet on the bar counter. “Speaking of which, I need to tell you something.”

Husk grimaced, like “oh shit, here we go,” and scooted a shot over to the spider.

Angel tossed it back before fixing his eyes on a stain on the counter. “I… I’m not going to audition for the show. I wanted to tell you now so you ain’t surprised when I don’t show up later..”

Tem frowned, concerned, resting a hand on his. “Oh Angel, hun, why? You’d be dynamite!”

“Oh, honey. I know I'm dynamite,” he said with peak confidence. “I just don't think I'm the one you're looking for for all this inspirational razzmatazz.”

“Bullshit,” Husk spat. “It’s fucking Valentino.”

Angel deflated. “Shit! Yeah, Val, he… he thinks it’ll take up too much of my time away from the studio and it would ‘ruin my branding’ or somethin’.”

Husk muttered something about Valentino being full of shit, to which Angel happily concurred. You clenched your hands under the bar, nails biting into the flesh of your palm.

“Oh, what horseshit!” You scoffed. “People like Valentino will make up any excuse to have a <i>crumb</i> of control. It’s pathetic. Tell me Angel, truthfully, do you want to do the show? Forget what Valentino says.”

“I mean yeah, I do, but—”

“But nothing. If you want to then you will. Leave it to me, hun.”

Husk raised a half-interested brow while Angel looked ill. “Look, I appreciate the offer but you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re planning to do. My boss, Val, he's–”

“A shitstain sandwich?”

Husk nodded with a small smile as he poured a glass of water for Fat Nuggets. “Exactly.”

You hopped off the stool, all smiles and bravado. “Angel, dear, just bring your spunky little butt to auditions and do your best. I promise that’s all you have to worry about. And maybe one day, this sweet little guy will bite Valentino’s stupid bald head off for you.” You stroked Fat Nuggets back as he sipped his water. “You will, won’t you? Yes, you will, good boy!”

Angel hugged both sets of arms to him, apprehensive. You smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder (with effort, he’s tall!) reassuring your friend you’d handle it. You held your smile as you walked out the door of the hotel, unaware of the shadow behind you. By the time you made it to your car, your smile disappeared.

“Shit!” you leaned against your car and pulled out a cigarette. Another “shit” escaped your lips when you realized you had no lighter. You placed the unlit cig in your mouth, foot tapping anxiously.

How in Hell were you going to get Angel out of his scenario? You had no pull when it came to the Vees, and no hope in getting their attention, at least not anytime soon.

You weren’t one to get involved in others’ affairs. Sure you’d gladly help out your friends and lend a hand when they needed one, but going against the will of an Overlord was above your wheelhouse. Those situations tended to land one in ripe hot shit. Needless to say, you preferred to avoid ripe hot shit.

But you felt for Angel. You weren’t lying when you said he had talent, and vermin Valentino squandered it. The moth demon reminded you all too much of Roman. They were both bastards who took advantage of the scared, weak, and vulnerable, all but stole their souls, and got off to abuse. You couldn’t break Angel’s contract, but you couldn’t stand by and let Valentino take this from him.

“Something troubling you, my dear?”

You inhaled your cigarette, gagging on the cylinder until you uncouthly hacked it out.

“Alastor!” You wiped your mouth, not noticing the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “No, no. I'm fine, I’m… thinking.”

“About how you're going to get in touch with the Vees, hmm?”

You fixed him with a look. “Should I be surprised? Eavesdrop more, please.”

He snapped his fingers, and a new cigarette appeared in your mouth. Small green flames danced along his fingertips but he made no move to light your cig for you. You leaned forward, pulling back once your cigarette kindled.

Eyes closing, you took a slow drag of the cancer stick and exhaled, acrid smoke wafting through the air. “Thanks.”

“Of course, dear, but back to your accusation. Overhearing a loud conversation in a public space is hardly eavesdropping.”

“I hear they call it voyeurism nowadays.”

Smiling tight, he hummed in lieu of false laughter. “I’m afraid you’re running a fool's errand, doll. Someone like you who’s not much of an Overlord to begin with has no hope in Hell of waltzing into the Vees tower and getting a meeting. You wouldn’t even show up on their radar.”

He pinched your cheek, condescension dripping from his teeth, as if to say “wasn’t I right?”

You pushed him away. “Oh, piss off, Alastor. You think I’m stupid? Don’t answer.”

“My dear I don’t think you’re stupid, merely woefully unprepared. But I have an idea.~” He wrapped an arm around you, nails digging into the meat of your shoulder. “A surefire way to get you in touch with Vox himself.”

Any other time you’d be overjoyed at his touch, but he had to go and be aggravating. You crossed your arms. “Which is?”

“Come now, dear. You can’t expect me to offer my services with nothing in return. Especially since you were so rude.”

“I doubt I could ever hurt your feelings, or that you’d want anything from me.”

He laughed, and her stomach churned. “That’s where you’re wrong, doll. I want to make a deal with you.”

You flicked the cigarette and stubbed it out. “Forget it. I’m not giving you my soul.”

Alastor’s eyes twitched as if the suggestion annoyed him. “Who said anything about souls? I promise to get you an immediate audience with Vox and in turn, you answer three little questions for me where you have to be fully honest.”

You pulled away from him. “What quest—”

“Ah-ah-ah!” He placed a finger over your lips. “What makes this deal worth it is the uncertainty. I can’t have you prepping lies in a desperate attempt to save face.”

Fuck.

Did he know?

He couldn’t know—

Alastor stared down at you like a predator who’d finally caught its meal. It scared you, and excited you?

No, no, no! You can examine those feelings later!

You took another step back, inwardly groaning as soon as the heat of his touch left your skin. There was a subtle tremor of his shoulders, eyes crinkling. He was holding back laughter.

“What’ll it be, my dear?”

What choice did you have?

This burn is going slower than I originally planned, lol. Hope you aren’t getting bored.

Also, if you want to send Tem or the other HH/HB characters that show up in the story an ask, go ahead and I’ll answer with a sketch.

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justrainandcoffee · 27 days ago

Text

Never is too late (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 2.5

Masterlist. Part 1 - Part 2.

Summary: Following his brother's orders, James goes to London to keep an eye on Alfie. There he meets Mrs. Solomons and it's also there where Jared's plans threaten to collapse, because the moment James put his eyes on her, it's when everything becomes more complicated. And Alfie sees the consequences of his own actions, escape from his hands.

Warnings: Some angst. Past bigamous Alfie. || This is an extra chapter. The story is always centered on Tommy, even if he's only mentioned here. But this is necessary to the plot because Alfie is part of Tommy. || I'm not responsible for this. *runs*

Words: 2.3 k|| This follows the events in this story.

James Thorne arrived at London the following week. Oscarwilde, his brother's dog, was with him because the youngest of them, Jay, refused to take care of the very pampered pet. Not when now that the older brothers were in England he was the head of the business there in Dublin.

But as soon as James could see Jared, Oscarwilde was going to return to his real owner.

He fucking hated London. Polluted, overpopulated, noisy and full of thieves. He didn't even live in Dublin, he was in a little town near the sea where he could enjoy the view every morning and take pictures. Having photography as a hobby helped him to see the things under other perspective.

The hotel was luxurious and with people trained to take care of dogs like Oscarwilde. So as soon as Jared could, he left the animal with the young man in charge and went directly to the dirty side of London known as Camden Town.

The things he did for his brother. James always admired his older brother and not even once he judged his choices. With Jared, James learnt not to judge homosexuals. He didn't even remember the first time he appeared with another boy hand in hand. Probably he was around 16, but he wasn't surprised. Jared was always different and not just because his sexuality, he was different.

The bang from the living room that woke him up, almost 15 years ago, was something that it was still with him. It was Jared's birthday and he celebrated blowing up their father's brain. Their mother's screams, Jay that was only 14 looking at the scene not knowing what to do. And him, James, 17 year-old had a maniac smile in his face seeing his father dead. That was his birthday gift… and it wasn't his birthday.

Jared was from that moment on, the king of the Walshs. And he was his right hand. Sometimes Jared was annoying, but James couldn't have asked for a better older brother. Despite the wicked world they chose to live in, the three brothers managed to live a life that could be considered acceptable if it was compared to the Italian gangsters for example.

Rose was in Alfie's office, spending time together, trying to rebuild the relationship. It's been months since Tommy left their home and yet, he was still there like a ghost that couldn't been seen but which presence in the house was evident.

There was a time when Rose went from one side to the other smiling, when she used to bother Alfie with stupid jokes or just dishevelling his hair every time she passed next to him. Now the moments together were just in silence, speaking about the news, job, some rumours but nothing about the playful couple they used to be.

She hated the feeling that Alfie was just with her because she was a woman. Just because she was his wife and he had obligations towards her as man and husband. The feeling that if she'd been a man, too, Alfie couldn't even doubt to go after Tommy and left her there.

But Alfie was with her, saying each night that he loved her but Rose knew that part of his brain was still with Tommy that was miles away from them.

Who was Rose next to Tommy Shelby?

Alfie looked at her writing on his desk while he was on his feet looking for some paperwork. It broke his heart seeing her the way she was now because him, for over anyone else, knew the kind of person she was. Because no matter how many times he said to her that he still loved her, she didn't believe him.

The way she just turned her back to him when he tried to have some intimacy and the lack of affection she had. She always used to search some kind of physical contact with him.

And Alfie couldn't blame her because he was the one who corrupted their vows. And because even months after they broke up, Tommy Shelby was still in his mind and heart and he refused to leave.

"I'm going to send these letters," she said moments later standing up and searching for her coat. "Then I have a meeting with the ILP."

The Independent Labour Party was about to celebrate a new anniversary and its members were organising a party for the occasion at the end of the month and they were preparing everything.

Rose opened her mouth to ask if he wanted to go but closed it again. No, he didn't want to. He hated politics.

"Are ya coming for dinner?"

She nodded. "As always, Alfie." Rose picked up her letters and put her hat on. "See you later."

"I love you, Rosie."

"I know."

James was waiting on the other side of the street. He didn't know what exactly Jared wanted but everything in the bakery seemed to be normal. Workers entering the building, others coming out, carrying sacks of flour or wooden barrels that James knew was part of the real business Solomons had. But apart from some verbal fight, there was nothing unusual.

Then he saw her. Only one woman was always around the bakery and that was the owner of half of that emporium in Camden Town: that was Alfie Solomon's wife. Jared forgot to mention that she was beautiful. Or at least James thought that as soon as he saw her.

Her shoes resounded on the cobblestone streets, she had her bag on her shoulders and her hat covering her well combed hair but the letters she had on her hands flew away when she stumbled. It was an stupid impulse that James had when he crossed the street and went after her.

"Let me help you, ma'am."

"I'm sorry!" Rose rushed to say, "I got distracted, I-"

"It's okay."

She looked at the strange man for the first time while he handed her the letters back. He was tall, taller than Alfie, and had a gentle smile that matched his light blue eyes.

"Thanks, sir. Mr…"

"James Thorne."

"Thanks, Mr. Thorne." Rose put the letters in her purse.

"You're welcome, ma'am. Are you okay?"

"Not really. But it doesn't matter."

Rose found herself surprised by her own words, why she was talking to that complete stranger about her? Usually she responded that everything was okay, no matter who asked -and for the last years that also included Alfie- and she kept going on with her life. Ignoring her thoughts was her mechanism of self protection.

"Does it have solution?"

"I don't want to think about the solution. But the answer is yes."

"I saw that kind of eyes before," James said. "It's sadness. You're sad."

"Maybe I am."

James put his hand in his pocket and offered her his handkerchief and Rose accepted it.

"It's the kind of sadness that could be healed with some pastries, coffee and me?" James smirked and for the first time in a long time, a genuine chuckle escaped from her.

"I'm married, Mr. Thorne."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It's the kind of sadness that could be healed with a hug. But I don't know you and you don't know me. And especially you don't know my husband."

"Why do I feel that your husband is the responsable for your broken heart? And yes, I'd like to know you."

She looked at him. Who was that James Thorne that was ready to put himself in danger for her? If Alfie knew…

The same Alfie that put another person in your matrimony, her mind murmured.

"My name is Rose," she said.

He took her hand and kissed it. "Nice to meet you, Rose."

Thorne. Quite appropriate surname. Because James that moment became a thorn in Alfie's side.

One Walsh brother was ready to take Tommy Shelby to his own bed and the other had fell in love at first sight with his wife. Alfie that once had both of them, suddenly it was at risk of losing everything.

"I've to go, Mr. Thorne. Have your handkerchief back."

"Keep it. As a reminder that not all men make women cry."

James stroke her cheek with his knuckle gently. "I know I'm going to see you again. I hope so, at least. It'd be very lucky of me seeing an angel twice in my life."

He winked at her and Rose felt something that she didn't feel in a while: she wasn't invisible. And it was a pleasant but strange sensation.

"Goodbye, Mr. Thorne," she said unable to hide her smile anymore.

"Goodbye, Rose." James tapped his hat and turned around not without looking at her once more, and smiling at her again.

"How's Oscarwilde?" Jared called his brother later that day, when both of them were already in their respective hotels.

"He ate two fillet mignon, as you ordered. I guess he's fine. And me too, hey! Thanks for asking, fucker."

"Don't be so sensitive, Jamie. I'm glad you're fine. Are you enjoying London?"

"I couldn't say that, but something happened today. I went to Camden. I managed to talk to Rose Solomons."

Jared remained in silence a bit for a moment. "How did you know her name?"

"I just told you. I talked to her."

"James, keep yourself away from the jews. I told you just keep an eye on them."

"She needed help. It wasn't my intention… you didn't tell me she was a pretty woman."

"Because I don't know her personally. Fucking hell, James. Stay away from her!"

"Solomons doesn't know the kind of woman he has next to him."

"And you either. You can't know a person just saying hello, James. Jesus…" Jared sighed loudly "go and fuck a whore if your dick needs attention. Go to a bar and invite a Lady to the hotel, I don't know. Find your way, but not with her."

"What if she wants, too?"

"James-"

"You can find some entertainment in Thomas fucking Shelby, but I can't do the same with her?"

"It's different. He's single."

"Speaks the one who slept with married men."

"James! Open your fucking eyes. Goodbye."

His older brother ended the call before he'd say goodbye too. James opened the window and lit a cigarette.

Fuck Jared.

The days that followed, Rose began to meet James suspiciously always in her way. James and his beautiful smile, his kind words, his flirty soul and the way he looked at her. But he was always a gentleman and never crossed any boundaries between him and her. Yet, the unexpected new company, his sweet compliments and the not so subtle way his hands caressed hers had a positive impact on her. And the change in her attitude didn't go unnoticed by Alfie.

It had been a while she woke up humming a song or that she started to play with Cyril and Beast during the evenings. The way her eyes shone or her involuntarily smile that suddenly appeared in her face. Yet, her cold attitude towards him was the same.

And Alfie was terrified of asking why his wife for moments seemed to be the same Rose he always knew.

But the answer arrived not long after he noticed her change, when he saw her with a man he didn't know. Tall, slim and laughing with her few blocks away from the distillery. There was his Rosie smiling at that bastard in ways she didn't do with him in years. Alfie refused to accept what it was obvious and that was that Rose and that man were flirting.

"If someone comes here to bother me, I'm going to shoot them! Fuckin' care who the fucker is! Did ya hear me, Ollie?"

His men saw him pass, walking towards his office very angry. Everyone there knew what an angry Alfie Solomons was capable of and no one was willing to be the next. But Ollie, as his right hand, was the only one who was brave enough to talk to him, even when he wanted to run away.

"I heard you, Alfie."

"Fine. Fuck off, now!"

Rose, his Rosie and another man. What did he expect after the things he did? But selfishly, he wanted to shoot the man. How dare him to make her smile? That was his job, it was always his job.

"You promised me a lot of things."

Her voice, her words resounded in his head. He swore her fidelity, eternal love and made lot of promises that during the last years he forgot completely about.

If a rose isn't taking care properly, the rose dies because beautiful as they are they're also fragile. Yet, they could reborn under the correct circumstances.

And Rose, wasn't very different from the homonymous flower.

Fuck.

"FUCK!"

"Come with me tonight," James said to her. Both were sitting in a café and he invited to go to a party that was going to be celebrated in a palace, outside London.

"No, I can't. I can't."

"Why not? It's because of your husband? You deserve better."

"James…"

"You know I'm fucking right, Róisín."

Róisín, the Gaelic form for Rose, was the way he became to call her just few days after they met. And she refused to accept how much she liked it that nickname.

"It's not just Alfie, James… it's not just that."

"Come on, Rose, tell me you don't like me. Tell me. And if you do, then I'm going to invite you to that party as friends or I'm just going alone."

And for the first time in her life, Rose couldn't say a thing because James was right: she liked him, but her heart always belonged to Alfie. Even now.

Yet, there was her mind and body betraying her. It was his fault. James Thorne and all the attention he was putting on her. James Thorne and his incredible talent to make her feel so good. Him and the butterflies he managed to wake up inside her. James that appeared when she hadn't any more strength.

He put a hand in the back of her head and gently pushed her against him. His thumb was caressing her cheek and was looking at her with devotion.

"You're so beautiful. So precious, Róisín."

It was an early afternoon in middle of Camden Town, when Rose allowed another man to kiss her.

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x ofc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie x rose #tom hardy #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc

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saintship · 1 year ago

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could I request a florist!könig x reader?? I don't even know how this would go, but I like the idea of him being absolutely enthralled in plants and bugs as a kid. lil dude would know anything and everything about flowers, because he'd bring back random assortments of wildflowers and foliage back to his grandmother after a day of wandering around the woods and playing pretend, and she'd buy him a big book about flowers one day because she thought it was adorable.

was thinking reader could be a regular, because she likes having fresh bouquets around her workplace/at home/to give as gifts? she knows quite a bit about flowers and their meanings (though, it pales in comparison to what könig knows- i don't think anyone could ever compete), and she's just head over heels for whatever whack ass/gorgeous assortment he comes up with for her.

who knows, maybe our lil köni finally musters up some courage one day and throws in a free bouquet for her? 👀

Ancient draft. Cobwebs. Please forgive me this request is magical

*Some real places are mentioned but the floral shop is fictional ALSO if my German is bad feel free to correct me and I can make the edit, thank you!

Daffodils - König x reader

Salzburg wasn’t the city you were born in, but it might as well have been. You’d found a peace there; the summer rain, snowy winters, and captivating architecture being just a few wonders of the city.

Hotel Altstadt was where you made a living, tucked inside a busy plaza where the young children could never seem to sit still. A dozen or so steps across from the hotel was a small floral and plant nursery.

Königs Blumen un Pflanzengärtnerei, a shop that had grown popular since it opened its doors for travelers and tourists. The shop was beautiful, inside and out, with creeping vines and a wonderful twinkling filling the room each time the door opened. The brass bell responsible was entwined with a long sprig of lavender, which carried its smell to greet newcomers. Shelves of live, flowering plants lined the walls, some of which you couldn’t name, while in the center, a calm fountain bubbled around several ferns and tall lilies. The piece would block the register entirely if it weren’t for the owner’s height—he had to be more than 6’5’’, with generous muscle accompanying his stature and a head of auburn waves that brushed his ears before tapering off. He always wore a black fabric mask with floral detailing. Beautiful, but you always wondered why he did so.

The reason you were lucky enough to familiarize with him was the honeymoon couples of the hotel—you were often tasked with picking up entryway bouquets and treated rose petals for the bedspreads, and protected that position with your life. Today was the day you gathered enough courage to strike up a non-professional conversation with the man you’d been admiring for some time.

A breeze slanted through the alleys and roadways, providing some relief from the warm weather. You made your way across the plaza with your delivery cart as usual, thanking a young girl who held open the shop door for you. You walked inside, glancing into the fountain where coins glittered below the wavering surface.

“Good morning, König.” You sidled up to the counter, offering him a smile.

“Morgen! Here for the roses again?” He replied brightly, leaning down to reach for the package of white and red roses used for romantic suites.

“Yes, thank you..” your heart pounded as you received the first package, not missing how your fingers grazed his hand.

“I’m sure you grow a lot of these, huh?”

You managed to spit it out; a simple invitation to a real conversation.

“Yes..but it is not often I’m bored.” König remarked, handing over another package. “I enjoy the white ones especially.”

You gazed at the flower he’d pointed out, nearly getting distracted before quickly stowing it away and reaching for the next.

“Eternal love, right?”

König looked up, blinking.

“The meaning, I mean. Of-of white roses?”

Oh my god, kill me.

“Oh, yes! I have heard that perspective..though I always thought the classic meaning was most accurate; youthfulness.” He paused, holding onto the third package to study it. “So—young love, then.” He looked up, and you felt as though the earth fell around you. You took the last box, setting it down carefully.

“What other meanings do you know?” It didn’t matter that you knew many already, you just couldn’t drag yourself away from him.

“Quite a few..” he looked off a bit, thinking. “What’s your favorite flower?”

You felt a twinge of warmth at your cheeks. “Daffodils.. daffodils are my favorite. I like adorning flowers too, like baby’s breath and lily of the valley.”

He blinked, pleasant surprise flashing over his gaze. “Are you a florist?”

“I make arrangements for my friends sometimes—so, freelance?”

He laughed a bit. “Keep it down, I need business.”

You smiled in return. “Every good business has a partner, no?”

You don’t know where this banter was coming from, but decided to seize the confidence while it was there.

“I suppose you’re right.” König conceded, then studied you for a moment. “You already know what daffodils represent, don’t you?”

You don’t reply for a moment, seemingly forgetting how to form a sentence, before your phone goes off.

“Sorry..hello?” You turn, holding the phone to your ear. “Right..okay. Be right there.” You click to end the call, grasping your cart. “I’ve got to go. Nice talking to you..”

You steer back into the plaza, letting a deep breath free itself from your chest. Your hammering heart only frustrated you further, shaking your head and getting back to to work.

It was a notable stretch of time before your job drove you back to König's shop; lord knows you weren't going to wander in there on your own volition. The thought of him started to make your heart flip over, and it was close to nauseating. When you did, you saw something near the door that caught your eye. Abandoning your cart, you approached the small display table arranged to the side. You usually had trouble with written German as opposed to spoken, but the label was straightforward. "Blume des Monats". Flower of the month. It was an arrangement nestled in a small ceramic vase, the dominating flower being--the daffodils.

"You inspired me."

König's voice behind you made you turn, nearly spraining your neck from surprise. "I did?"

He was wearing a button down today, the sleeves hiding his hyacinth tattoo.

"You did. The adorning pieces, too. I find yellow and white fit nicely together for a light summer arrangement, both their looks and etymology."

You turn back, confirming the appearance of the baby's breath that framed the yellow flowers. "I agree."

König stepped up so he was standing beside you, looking at the arrangement as well. "I have to tell you, uh.. while I was arranging this, I wasn't imagining it to be displayed."

You look up at him, blinking. "No?"

He seemed to avoid your eyes. "No." he shifted his weight, glancing at the floor. The sight of a relatively intimidating man shifting on his feet was, admittedly, endearing. Still, the warmth in the tips of your ears irritated you to no end.

"I was going to uh..give it to you. Because I thought you'd like it. And then I was going to ask you on a date."

You smile to yourself, looking at your shoes. "I wish you would have."

You felt his eyes on you. "Truly?"

You nod, meeting his eyes. Suddenly, your nervous energy melted ever so slightly into a comfortable sort of understanding.

"Well, uh.." König took the arrangement by the stems, the water dripping as he held it in front of him. You couldn't help but laugh gently at his tenacity.

"Your floors-"

"Could I take you on a date sometime?"

"I--yes, just, oh your shoes.." you take the hand he holds the flowers with, setting them gently back in their place. You can only see his eyes, but they seem to be smiling.

"Wonderful. I'll have another when I pick you up."

"Oh, that's not-"

"With orchids."

You blink, his proximity suddenly clouding your awareness.

"Oh."

His eyes seem to tilt with another smile.

"I think you know their meaning."

#cod requests #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig cod #könig modern warfare #könig fanfiction

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cakerybakery · 3 months ago

Text

The Object of Your Affection

Dub Con warning. Object is being literal here. Very unhinged. Seriously. I don’t know if I call it a dead dove, but it gets weird.

Weird weird.

I literally said I wanted to go outside of my comfort zone and do some weird shit. I don’t even know what kind of kink this is. I consider this a fair warning without spoilers. Good luck if you read it.

I can’t believe you decided to read this. Fuck man. Go hard.

Adam died but he wasn’t gone. His soul, groundless, flittered about hell like litter in the wind. He was garbage, refuse, in a dump called hell.

Stuck wherever the rotting wind blew him. An object or a demon, it didn’t matter. Only dislodged by a jolt. He’d spent a week stuck in a light pole until it was struck and he was freed.

He bobbed along, trying to grab at anything and only grabbed at nothingness.

He’d been tight, pinchy shoes, and the woman who wore them as she was fucked fast and dirty in an alleyway. Adam had moaned and cum in her body as a thick cock of one of descendants rubbed her cunt just right. Only to be dislodged as her ass was slapped.

Adam was the blade of a knife plunging into the heart of some poor screaming bastard, jolted and freed as he was tossed aside so the welder could use his hands and get real dirty.

Eventually he figured he needed to come up with a plan. Maybe instead of being flotsam he could try to jump from person to person, or object, and get somewhere.

But to where?

He was fake balls deep in some chick and wondering what the hell the chick he was in was getting out of this when he spotted an ad on the bus they were riding for the Hazbin Hotel.

Lucifer’s bitch daughter was front and center and he knew, he just knew, if anyone had anything that could do something about his driftwood lifestyle, it was the big bad of hell himself.

The bus jolted and Adam screamed as the strap on he’d been fucking into the chick was now buried way too deep in their pussy.

“Sorry!” The chick he’d just been apologized. “I blanked out for a moment and didn’t see that turn coming.”

Adam just groaned. It was kind of his fault. He didn’t mean to take her over, he’d been aiming for the bus in general, so while he overrode her soul she wasn’t even aware he was there, and he hadn’t been paying attention. He’s just happy he didn’t end up as the strap on. Not how he wanted to fuck a chick. And god knows how long it would be until he was out of it.

“It’s okay. Just be more careful.” He sighed and let her keep going. No point ruining their good time. And it wasn’t bad getting fucked. Besides, he wasn’t planning on staying. The bus turned and he slapped the sinner’s hand hard enough to jolt him free and out a window.

He slipped along on the wind until he landed in some dog thing. Slipping the collar was easy. He dashed through the streets and avoided traffic the best he could. Adam didn’t want to kill the little thing. In fact he slowed to allow the owner time to catch up.

The streets were busy so it was easier to get around as a tiny creature to avoid being bumped.

Wiggling through the gate carefully he ran up the doors and barked until someone opened the door.

The little maid ohhed at him and then at the guy yelling as he ran up the drive that that was his dog.

Adam backed up, mentally apologized the the dog thing, and ran head first into the glass door to dislodge himself.

He got lucky and slipped into the maid. Adam picked the dog thing up and returned it to its owner before dashing into the hotel.

In the last few months he’d been in more than a few sinners who sold their souls. Puppetting the body of the sinner overrode that soul’s contract so he was never bound by the rules that governed the sinner.

But this chick was something else.

Her contract tethered her to her master, yes, but it also seemed to be keeping her mind from falling apart.

She did something no other sinner ever had.

Her mouth opened and she said, “hello.”

He could feel her eye turning. He wasn’t turning it.

She tip tip tipped across the floor quickly. He wasn’t moving her.

The maid giggled maniacally. “Who are you?”

Adam explained who he was, explained what happened, and what he was trying to do.

“I’m Nifty!”

“Well, that’s just nifty, dear. But-“

“I killed you.”

He could see himself in her memory. Being stabbed. The blood as it sprayed out of him.

This was a mistake.

“I can take you to him.”

“Good girl, Nifty.” He praised her. Good, violent deranged person, good.

They had to wait through until he returned that evening. “He has a routine. I know the perfect moment to tell him what happened. He’ll never believe me if I just tell him. They never believe me.” Her eye darted around and Adam could see other lost soul like himself stuck to things.

She giggled.

Oh no.

“They’re all asleep and I can’t wake them. Maybe you’ll work.”

She zipped them around for hours. Adam tried to see what was going on in her head but it was all static.

Eventually Lucifer did come home.

Zipping up, Nifty dead stopped in front of him. Lucifer shivered and gave a strained hello. They looked right up at him.

“There’s a second soul in my body.”

“Uuhhh, that’s… nice?” Lucifer responded, unsure.

“See. I told you.” Her shoulders slumped and he could feel the weight of the sadness in her from not being taken seriously.

“Yes. You did.” He and Lucifer said at the same time with differing inflections.

“Uhh, Charlie! Sweetie, your little friend is doing it again.” Lucifer backed up a step uneasily.

Charlie hurried over and cheered Nifty up by asking if she wanted to kill some bugs. Off they went, even climbing in the vents.

Adam complained but Nifty just giggled. After what seemed like forever he could feel their face grin as she looked through a vent straight over a fancy looking bed.

“Almost time.” She ducked back and Adam saw a spell cast in the dirt.

The door opened and he heard the rustling of clothing.

“Nifty?” Lucifer’s voice rang out. “If you’re here come out now and I won’t be angry.”

How often did she spy on Lucifer??

The spell in the dirt glowed.

He heard a sigh of relief and realized the spell was shielding Nifty from Lucifer.

There was more rustling and a drawer opening and closing. Nifty peeked their head up to see again.

Lucifer was completely naked. The vent had a good view of his hard cock and his closed eyes as he touched his chest and dick. Adam couldn’t close their one big eye and he was forced to watch as Lucifer moaned and groped his flat chest.

As a hand slid down slowly to his dick and he pumped it.

Then the buzzing started.

Adam had been transfixed on Lucifer and hadn’t seen the toy.

Lucifer started to tease his ass with the vibrator, pouring a generous amount of lube before pushing it in roughly. “Oh yeah.” He moaned. “Nice and rough. Come on, daddy can take it. Wreck my ass.” He dirty talked himself and fucked himself harder.

Burying it deep inside of him, Lucifer panted.

Nifty undid the latch and Lucifer frozen as Nifty tumbled down onto the bed.

Lucifer let out an indignant scream and tried to cover himself but Nifty was too fast.

“Tag! You’re it!” She shouts and slapped the vibrator deeper into Lucifer.

Adam panicked for a second thinking she was pushing him into Lucifer. Only to realize he was in a dark, warm, space.

Oh no.

He heard Lucifer scream as he/the vibrator was shoved completely inside of him.

“NIFTY YOU CUNT! YOU DERANGED CUNT!” Adam screamed fruitlessly. Knowing he couldn’t be heard.

“Hello?” Lucifer’s voice was muffled. “Is someone there?”

“Lucifer?” Adam tried. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes?… sort of… hang on. I have to get this thing out of me.”

Adam could feel Lucifer’s fingers grasp at the edge of his handle. How Lucifer’s ass squeezed him.

If he could get an erection as a formless invisible soul blob, he’d have one. Lucifer was so tight.

Slowly he was worked out and dropped gently on the bed.

“Okay. What soul is here? And where?”

Adam could see the whole room. The worst part being an object is no direct eyes so he kind of just saw everything. Including Lucifer gaping ass.

“It’s me! You as-“ he almost said asshole, but thought better of it. “Fucker!”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh me! That narrows it down. You’re a bit of a douche bag, you know that? … Adam?”

If Adam jaw could drop it would. “Fuck you!”

“Hey buddy. You survived! Good for you. Now where are you?” Lucifer was looking around the room, not bothering to cover himself.

“Well, you know how you complain about my being a pain in your ass?”

Lucifer’s eyes fell on Adam. “No.”

“You’re a tight bitch. You know that?”

Gold flared over Lucifer’s face. “Oh you fucker! Did you get Nifty to do this?!”

“Ha! No. I don’t like being in objects. I can’t get out unless someone dislodges me. That freak surprised me too.”

They lapsed into silence before Adam asked, “wait, how can you hear me?”

“I’m the king of hell. I have dominion over all the souls in hell. Even the lost ones. I can hear any soul that wants my attention. I don’t usually listen or care. But I can.” Lucifer picked him up. “You know, Nifty kind of interrupted me. How about a little fun before we put you in something more mobile?”

Adam hated that he wasn’t saying no.

Lucifer turned him back on and shoved Adam back into his ass. Adam enjoyed that tight heat more than he should have. He liked the way Lucifer moaned and talked dirty to him.

“God, fuck me, Adam. You’re hitting all the right spots. I wish this was your cock. Fucking me good and deep. I want to feel your cum in me. Making me drip all day.” It didn’t take Lucifer long to cum and he laid there, a moaning mess with Adam still vibrating inside him.

Pulling Adam out, Lucifer had trouble walking straight to the bathroom to clean him off.

“So did you get anything from that?” Lucifer asked earnestly.

“Metaphorical blue balls. I can’t cum but apparently I can get turned on.”

“I got a few more toys we can play with. See if we can get you over that edge.” Lucifer ran is hands over Adam and bit his lip. His dick was already starting to harden again.

“I’d rather have a body back.”

Lucifer hummed and went to the bedside table. “Sure but I’ll have to figure out how. In the meantime. How about meeting my friends?”

He opened a drawer and Adam saw a bunch of sex toys.

Reaching in, Lucifer rummaged around. “I promised you something more mobile right? So let’s save that fleshlight for later, when I can fuck you. If it has a battery can you move?”

Adam tried it and turned himself on and back off. “Seems so.”

“Oh that’s hot. Okay. Butt plug it is.”

Adam didn’t have time to protest as Lucifer knocked him into the new toy. Quickly he found himself back in Lucifer.

“Okay. Now you can have some fun. I’m going to get dressed and go down for some dinner, then look up some spells. Feel free to turn yourself on, it has some speeds and even some small thrusting. Just have fun driving me nuts as I try to keep a straight face in front of everyone. See if you can get off. Feel free to get nasty too. I’m the only one that can hear you anyways.”

“Doesn’t seem like I have much of a choice.” Adam grumbled.

“You can always say no.”

“Well, let’s not go crazy here.” Adam could spend a few hours teasing Lucifer in front of a crowd.

See if he could humiliate the guy. Get him to cum in from of his kid. “Anything off limits?”

“Haven’t found any yet. But how about I mention Nifty got into my room again if I hit one?”

“Fucking deal.”

#adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #adam x lucifer #my Adamsapple fanfiction

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