#hes been nothin but bitchy in this show i hate him so much | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lousimusician · 5 years ago

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Trying To Adjust

Pairing: Frat!Tom x Reader

Requested By: @blissonal

Request: Hi! I was wondering if I could request a frat!tom imagine/blurb, where tom is having a hard time adjusting to a real relationship and it makes the reader think that he’s with other girls/just playing her. I just like a lot of angst, so end it however you want.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Angst

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Tom: Sorry babe, can’t tonight, there’s gonna be another party

You stared blankly at the text Tom just sent before shutting your phone and dropping your hand down, making it hit your bed which you were currently laying on.

You sighed sadly, gaining the attention of your roommate, “What’s up?” Elizabeth asked.

”Nothin’” you mumbled, “Tom just blew me off again.”

Her eyes snapped up to you, looking away from her laptop at her desk, “Again!” She exclaimed.

You rolled your eyes, “Yup.”

”What the hell, why?”

You shrugged, “I dunno...” you trailed off.

”You don’t think he’s cheating on you, right?”

”What,” you sat up quickly, “No of course not! Why? Do you?” You asked, suddenly fearing the worst.

”Well I don’t know, but he doesn’t have a very good reputation. He used to sleep around a lot.”

”I mean, I knew that but once we started dating he obviously stopped.”

She shrugged, “Yeah but maybe he fell back in his old ways. Like he was really bad. I remember this one time where he was in the quad with his friends and there were these three girls that found out he was playing them all at the same time, I’m talking like the same situation in John Tucker Must Die— which is a great movie, but I digress— only they didn’t do it as good as the movie did, but they all approached him in the quad and each one of them gave this long speech about why he’s a dick and one of them even slapped him. And then you know what happened later that night?”

”No,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in worry.

”He had a foursome later that night at a party with all of them!”

”What!” You hissed.

”Well, I don’t know that for sure, but that’s what the rumors say,” she shrugged.

You groaned, falling back on your bed, “Ugh, I don’t know what to think. Everything was going so well and then he just started blowing me off, like at the very least he could invite me to these parties he’s always going to.”

”Why don’t you just go anyway?”

“I don’t know... I won’t know anybody there.”

”You’ll know Tom and he’s your boyfriend, that’s enough in my opinion for you to show up.”

You paused, considering this, “But don’t they have stupid rules, like the girls need to wear dresses that practically shows off their entire ass.”

Elizabeth laughed, “Yeah, I have a dress like that if you need one.”

You paused again, “Sure.”

You don’t really know why you agreed to go, it just seemed sneaky on your part. Like you were the untrustful girlfriend that just wanted to see if her boyfriend was being faithful. Which isn’t exactly the kind of thing you wanted to impose on this relationship, especially since you’ve only been together a month and a half and things were still pretty new.

But here you were at your boyfriend’s frat party, with a thong that was all the way up your fucking ass and a dress that really wanted to show that off.

You walked through the house, gaining a few looks from guys that either knew you and looked surprised to see you here or guys that were too focused on your ass to notice anything else about you.

You didn’t see him in the living room or where there was a spot cleared so people can grind on each other to the music that had been playing (and you were really glad he wasn’t there).

So you naturally made your way to the kitchen, and

Bingo.

You were immediately able to spot the locks of brown hair just from looking at him from behind.

He had currently been talking to a bunch of his frat brothers about whatever the fuck they usually talked about. Noah, probably your least favorite frat member, noticed you, his face lighting up.

”Oooooh!” He shouted, “Look who’s arrived!” He shouted again, following it with his own whipping sound affect, throwing his hand back then forward to mimic the motion.

You rolled your eyes, yeah you really hated Noah.

Tom immediately spun on his heels, the smile that had previously been on his face faltered, eyes widening in panic.

”(Y/N)!” He yelled in surprise, “What- uh what are you doing here.”

”I wanted to see you, can we talk for a second?”

You had barely finished the sentence when another one of his friends yelled out, “Pussy-whipped!”

Tom glanced back at them before looking at you again, “I mean— we can talk here right?”

You clenched you’re jaw, disappointed that he was letting his loser friends get to him.

But you sucked it up and continued, “Sure, I decided to drop by since you couldn’t make it to the movies like we planned.” You said, stepping closer so you were in front of him.

”Oh well, that’s great darling,” he said leaning down to kiss you, making the others whistles, “But uh- are you sure you wanna stay? I’m gonna be kinda busy with entertaining tonight, and you don’t really know anyone here...” he trailed off.

You pouted, “You can’t hang out with me even for a few minutes?” You ignored the whipping noises the others had all started making now.

But unfortunately Tom couldn’t.

”I mean, I was kinda in the middle of something.”

You were really starting to feel your heart break with all this.

”We haven’t hung out lately.” You sighed.

Tom was beginning to start really guilty about all this. He hated making you sad and insecure, especially since it was technically his first real relationship and he wasn’t too into the idea of completely screwing it up already, but what else could he do? And it was really hard to think clearly with all the whipping noises behind him.

”I know baby, I’ll make it up to you though.”

”Okay, when?”

”Tomorrow.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Tomorrow? Tom I’ve already told you I’m heading home for the weekend.”

The teasing shouts and obnoxious noises from his friends were becoming deafening in Tom’s ears.

”Okay, when you get back.” He rushed, just wanting to get this conversation over with.

You were really starting to get pissed at this point, “Y’know, Elizabeth thinks you might be cheating on me.”

And suddenly it was as if the shouts that were behind Tom completely stopped (When in reality they actually got louder).

”What? Cheating on you? And you believe that?” Tom couldn’t have been more insulted. You were actually the first girl he’s ever been faithful towards.

”I don’t know!” You shouted, “You keep blowing me off all the time and you barely text or call! Is it really that hard to believe that’s where my mind would go? Especially with your reputation?”

”No, stop it. You should know that I would never do that to you!”

”Well how am I supposed to know that when you never wanna hang out anymore!?” You yelled, not even feeling a little embarrassed by the show you were giving to his friends.

He grabbed your shoulders, “(Y/N) listen to me. I have never cheated on you.” He spoke slowly. “You’re the only girl that’s ever made me feel this way, why would I screw it up by sleeping with some girl I don’t like.”

At this point you were too mad to see his reasoning, “I don’t know,” you snapped, “If you’re not cheating then why are you screwing this up by always caring so much about what these assholes think?” You asked, pointing at the group behind him.

”Whoa!” Noah shouted obnoxiously, “Little (Y/N)‘s got some fire in her! Tommyboy, is she like that in bed too!?”

Tom suddenly remembered them now, and starting glancing back at them nervously.

He groaned, “God! I don’t know what you want from me!” He yelled, running a hand through his curls.

”What I want?” You scoffed, “I want you to man up and be my boyfriend! Answer my calls and texts, and maybe make an effort to reach out to me too, and stop canceling every single one of our fucking plans! I don’t know what you think it is we have but it is not a functioning relationship!”

”Y’know what? Fine! Maybe if you hate our relationship so much, we should just break up!”

”Break up,” you hissed, “So your solution to fix a fucked up relationship is to just end it! Cause if it is I promise you that you will never have a healthy relationship!”

The sounds of his friends had finally started to die down.

”Who gives a shit! Maybe I don’t want a healthy relationship anyway, at least now I can fuck all the girls you thought I was cheating on you with!”

You could tell he was already falling back into the person you had met for the first time just two months ago. Just this douchey frat boy, who didn’t know how not to be a dick to everyone.

But now you wanted to hurt him because of how mad he was making you, “Fine by me! Then I can fuck all the guys I want to then too!”

“Fine! Good luck trying to find a guy that wants to fuck your annoying ass!”

Well that one stung.

You heard a quiet ‘oh shit’ from one of his friends, the whole room watching in anticipation.

You scoffed, “Oh trust me Holland, I will have no trouble finding guys.”

He clenched his jaw, “You sure about that? This entire school already thinks you’re overbearing and bitchy.”

”Fine, you wanna play it like that?” You turned your head to one of his friends, who you were pretty sure was named Aaron, “You,” you pointed at him, “You wanna go up to your room and fuck?” You stated plainly.

He blinked in surprise, “What— like now?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yes like now.”

”Fuck yeah!” He shouted, jumping to his feet, from where he was previously sitting on the kitchen counter.

Tom looked at him with wide eyes, “Aaron what the fuck?”

He gave Tom an unsympathetic shrug, “Sorry man, I mean look at her, she’s fucking hot,” he said, passing Tom to stand next to you.

You grinned, looking at Tom, “See Tommyboy?” You mocked, “He thinks I’m hot.”

And just for that extra punch, you pulled Aaron down by the collar of his shirt and crashed your lips to his, turning so you could make direct eye contact with Tom while you kissed someone he had considered to be a friend up until a few seconds ago.

And you hated to admit how satisfied you felt upon seeing the destroyed look on his face.

You pulled away from Aaron, “Have fun fucking those girls and spending all your time with these assholes~” you sang, before dragging Aaron out of the kitchen by the wrist.

Tom stood there completely floored as to what had just happened.

Noah walked over to Tom and patted his shoulder, “Tough break. But look at the bright side. Now I can finally introduce you to Angelica right?”

Tom narrowed his eyes at him and shook his head, “Go fuck yourself.” He said before walking away from his “Friends”.

After that shit show, Tom spent the rest of his night locked up in his bedroom, going back and counting over every time he blew you off.

~~~~~

[A/N]: Lol this was just supposed to be a short blurb but I couldn’t help myself

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

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The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

2020, July 25th

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

“There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #au #the deal series #human!angel dust

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anunvalidcritic · 5 years ago

Text

The Boys: SN1.7

(DISCLAIMER: MY OPINION IS MY OWN AND CAN BE DEEMED INVALID TO THOSE WHO DON’T CARE FOR IT.)

I’m gonna dive into this like Trey Songz...

THE SELF-PRESERVATION SOCIETY

We’re starting off with a flashback my dudes.

BECCA looks like she is just..... flabbergasted.

BUTCHER just doing the usual stocking

once again the lovemaking scenes just aren’t needed...

Anyways why is ANNIE so worried about where this dude lives?

I understand her concern for things but damn y’all only really known each other for like a month maybe even two? shit I’ll go out on a limb and 3 1/2 months.

Damn HOMELANDER lookin’ at the photos like he’s about to destroy these bitchies

Well, now he remembers who BUTCHER is... FUCK

THE DEEP looks sick af walkin’ into that hotel room

“Not much crime in Sandusky. I mean we’re not a shithole like Akron.“ *chuckles* - HOST

DEEPER: A MEMOIR

this is what happens when you do drugs kids... >> A-TRAIN

A-TRAIN has the realist brother in the game rt

PSA: HOMELANDER HAS RALLIED THE TROOPS

BLACK NOIR is the chilliest dude.

“We’re not even the seven anymore were down to five. I mean we’re dropping like fucking flies.” - HOMELANDER

STARLIGHT is all shaken up now

“Keep those hands down by your sides missy.” - HOMELADNER

HOMELANDER really is full of shit saying that STARLIGHT wants to make this whole dilemma between her and THE DEEP a “single ladies moment” SMH

LOL the camera pan to BLACK NOIR

Oh so now MAEVE wants to stand up for STARLIGHT

MAEVE can fucking take this guy but she’s mentally not capable of doing it.

KIMIKO looks happy af stirring that shit. (Living her best life with FRENCHIE)

M.M. was right... he shouldn’t have fucked the sup...

“Right so it’s better to be loyal to a dead woman who doesn't care? So how is that working out for you?!” - HUGHIE

dang he didn’t have to do BUTCHER like that! he looked sick af

SIMON PEGG is the fucking man!

M.M. was right... he shouldn’t have fucked the sup...

“Shut the fuck“ ~ A-TRAIN

I’m sorry but that shit really sent me LOL. It’s just the way he delivered that line was really funny.

Don’t put POPCLAW’s death on HUGHIE like that!!! You didn’t even have to her! ol’ stoophid ass

“I know I get it. Everything that butcher touches turns to shit.” - M.M.

HIS NAME IS FUCKIN’ MARVIN

TRANSITION SCENE: HOMELANDER & STILLWELL

Now he’s bringing up BECCA

She clearly doesn’t give 2 fucks about this woman.

“I just assumed she quit.” - STILLWELL

She’s such a fucking liar. When someone is presumed to be missing or dead you do feel some type of concern. And if BECCA had the same job as ASHLEY then definitely knew something was up.

wow THE DEEP can still pull some p***y out in Ohio or whatever the fuck he is.

WOAH THIS DUDE HAS FUCKING GILLS!!

EWW SHE’S STICKING HIS FUCKING FINGER IN THERE

WELL NOW HE KNOWS THAT NO MEANS NO JERK

I have a feeling that MESMER is gonna get fucked up....

... the feeling was right...

FLASHBACK: MALLORY & BUTCHER

She was in there with him for 3 fucking hours?!?!

So this is MALLORY...

“I’m the person who can get you payback.” - MALLORY

Well after what happened to your grandkids you deserve the most payback.

It’s going to take some time but QUEEN MAEVE is number 2 on my dislike list. I think we all know whose number 1.

THE DEEP is always having conversations with these fucking animals

WTF is he gonna do with that lobster

ROFL!!!!!!! IT’S THE DOLPHIN ALL OVER AGAIN!

“You can call me Uncle Billy.” - BUTCHER

slapped him like it was nothin’

damn he done called her an “oriental girl”

Transition Scene: HOMELANDER & DOC

HOMELANDER’s fucking name is JOHN?!?!!?

Whenever I see this man I just think of him as JOHN FALCON from GOTHAM

I fuckin’ knew something was up!!

DID Y’ALL SEE HER FUCKING STOMACH NGLOW!!!!

All that goddamn blood on the floor crazy ass shit

ICONIC DIALOGUE

DOC - “When I raise subjects without there mothers they become violent, aggressive, downright hateful. You should’ve been raised with a family who loved you. Not in a cold lab with doctors.”

HOMELANDER - “And yet I turned out great.”

DOC - “When I think of what it’s done to you and what you can now do to everyone else. *sighs* I’m sorry.”

HOMELANDER - “I don’t want your fucking apology.”

DOC - “All this is my fault.”

HOMELANDER - “What do you want? What?! You want forgiveness? Now... after you raised me like a fucking lab rat?! No too little too late.”

I’m sorry for the lone dialogue but I needed to post this because it shows insight on how JOHN became to be the way he is now... (but with that being said I would like to see some scene of him when he was younger so we can truly feel it.)

He shouldn’t have fuckin’ said that...

ICONIC DIALOGUE

STILLWELL - “I’m sorry I’m afraid I’m not following.”

SUSAN - “You and your corporation are fucked. Unequvically unalaterally fucked. How was that? Was that clealier for you??”

BRUH HER FUCKIN’ FACE WHEN THE COMPOUND V WAS OUT

wow it was like that was perfect timing

“Naqib means Captain. We believe it’s his supe name” - WORKER

BUTCHER REALLY SHOT THIS CHICK IN HER CHEST TWICE!!!!!!!

___________

Hey, I don’t know if I said this before but I do all of this on my laptop. So if you’re looking at it from your phone or any other mobile device it’s going to look pretty different when it comes to the layout of the words. Just want y’all to know that just because this is the second to last episode doesn’t mean that you should just forget that EVERYONE’S A CRITIC WHEN THEIR OPINION MATTERS THE LEAST…

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highfivecalum · 6 years ago

Text

Wouldn’t Miss A Chance {CH} 15

Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine TenEleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen

❋ ❋ ❋

IT HAD BEEN A FULL WEEK since the party and since Ashton had come home. Calum and Sophie tried to get ahold of him, tried to explain everything to him, but he ignored all of their calls and texts. They knew he was upset and more so pissed off, but they thought they deserved the chance and opportunity to explain themselves.

Things between Calum and Sophie were good, great, almost perfect even. With it just being the two of them in the house they could have sex and be as open and lovey as they wanted to without fear of Ashton lashing out or feeling uncomfortable. The only thing bothering Sophie was the nagging voice in the back of her head telling her not to trust Calum after he told her he spent the night at Sarah’s.

Sophie knew she should trust him. She knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, not intentionally at least, but the jealous and paranoid part of her made it hard for her to. The fact that she had been cheated on before and lied to really messed up her trust issues, so she didn’t think she was being completely crazy and paranoid when it came to the potential of Calum sleeping with Sarah, especially since she knew they had a history.

She just really hoped that she was wrong.

Not having to work that day or night and with Calum out doing stuff, Sophie sat alone in the house with her thoughts that were driving her absolutely crazy. She knew she needed to get up off the couch and do something, distract herself and keep her mind occupied, so she finally peeled her body off of the couch and got up to shower and get ready. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do by herself, but she knew she needed to get out of the house.

After her very much needed shower and after applying her makeup and finding a suitable outfit for the weather, Sophie grabbed her car keys and drove in the direction of the mall. It wasn’t far, just over ten minutes, and she was glad when she easily found a parking spot in the crowded parking garage.

Sophie walked around the mall for a little bit, still not entirely sure where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do, but when she saw a large SALE sign in the window of one of her favorite stores, she knew she had to go in. She hadn’t been shopping in a while and she had saved almost all of her money she had been making from the bar, so she decided to treat herself.

Sophie picked out a pair of jeans, a few tops, and a few pairs of lacy underwear and bras to match. She tried them all on, smiling widely when everything fit perfectly and looked great-- that was a rare occurrence for her when it came to shopping, she usually had no luck. Happily making her way towards to the counter, she was stopped by somebody calling her. Spinning around, Sophie was face to face with Clara.

“Sophie! Hi,” Clara pulled her in for a quick hug which Sophie returned. Sophie hadn’t seen Clara since the night of the party and she was happy they ran into each other because Sophie was dying to know how Ashton was doing and if he was okay. “How are you doing?”

Sophie tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and shrugged. “I’m alright. I’ve been better.”

Clara knew it was because of Ashton and Calum and the fight between the three of them and Sophie didn’t even have to ask before Clara was opening her mouth and talking about Ashton. “He’s really upset,” Clara sighed and Sophie furrowed her eyebrows. “Ashton, I mean.”

“Right,” Sophie nodded her head and laughed sadly. “You probably think I’m the worst sister ever; dating my brother’s best friend. Has he said anything about it?”

“I don’t think that,” Clara assured her. “And not really, no. He just huffs and mopes around and when I try to get him to talk about it he just shuts me out. I just think he never expected that to happen so he was totally blindsided by it, you know?” Sophie nodded her head. “And I think he’s worried about you and just trying to look out for you since he knows Calum well and knows he doesn’t do relationships well.”

“And I understand that, I do, I just-” Sophie ran a frustrated hand through her hair and exhaled a sigh. She wanted to cry at the thought of Ashton hating the idea of her and Calum together. “I just wish he would talk to me and let me explain things. He ignores my calls and I’m pretty sure he blocked Calum’s number.”

“Want me to talk to him?”

“Oh no,” Sophie shook her head. “I don’t want to drag you into it. Ashton’s already pissed at us, he doesn’t need to be pissed at you, too.”

“I don’t mind. If you and Calum are really happy together and if it’s a serious thing then Ashton needs to hear you guys out and let you explain. I think he owes you that much.” Clara smiled sympathetically. “And I’m also tired of him moping around my apartment.” She laughed lightly and Sophie smiled.

“Well, thank you, Clara. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.” Clara waved Sophie off like it was no big deal, but to Sophie it was. “I’ll let you go now, though. I hope everything works out for you guys.” The pair said their goodbyes, giving each other a quick hug before Clara was making her way to the fitting rooms and Sophie making hers to the registers.

Sophie walked aimlessly around the mall thinking about what Clara had said. Clara was right, Ashton did owe Calum and Sophie that much, but she wasn’t sure if Ashton thought about it that way. She hoped, prayed even, that Clara could get through to him.

Sophie was knocked out of her thoughts when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Pulling it out, her grim expression turned into a smile at the text from Calum.

Calum: Any plans tonight? I’m makin’ dinner for you if you’re free.

Sophie smiled and quickly wrote a text back to him, looking up every so often to make sure she didn’t bump into anyone, but was unsuccessful when she felt her body collide with another. She locked her phone and looked up to apologize. “I’m so sorry.” Her smile from Calum’s text diminished when she saw Sarah standing in front of her.

Sarah pursed her lips and looked Sophie up and down. “Sophie, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi.”

“You should really watch where you’re going.”

Sophie furrowed her eyebrows at the bitchy tone in Sarah’s voice. “I’m sorry, I was just-”

“Texting?” Sophie rolled her lips into her mouth and nodded her head. “Texting who?”

Sophie wanted to tell her that it wasn’t any of her business who she was texting, but unlike Sarah, Sophie was polite and had manners. “Um, Calum.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Oh. That’s surprising.”

“Why is that surprising?”

“I just figured after he stayed at my place that night you would have ended things, since you know, we hooked up and everything.” Sarah smiled and Sophie felt her insides twist. “Well, I gotta go, nice seeing you, though Sophie.”

Sophie was left there standing in the middle of the mall, mouth agape, and heart slowly breaking at Sarah’s words and she hoped to God that Sarah was lying, because if she wasn’t, Ashton was right, and Calum was capable of breaking her heart.

❋ ❋ ❋

Sophie sat at the dinner table across from Calum, twisting her pasta around on her plate while her brain tortured her with the thoughts of Calum and Sarah together. Was Sarah just jealous that Sophie and Calum were together? Or did Calum lie to her and they really did hook up? She couldn’t get her mind to shut the fuck up no matter how hard she tried.

The whole time Sophie helped Calum cook dinner she was in her own world and Calum noticed, but he didn’t say anything. He figured that maybe she was just tired or hungry and after she ate she would go back to her normal, smiling and nonstop talking self, but she didn’t, and Calum was getting worried.

“Sophie,” Calum repeated Sophie’s name louder this time and her head snapped up from her plate.

“Sorry. What?”

“I asked if you were okay.”

“Oh,” Sophie cleared her throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Calum frowned, knowing fully well that Sophie wasn’t fine, and stood up, completely forgetting about his food and rounded the table so he was in front of her. He crouched down, knees bent so now they were face to face and he took her hand in his. “Soph,” Calum mumbled. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Sophie shook her head although it wasn’t nothing. “It’s stupid.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothin’.”

Sophie exhaled a sigh and closed her eyes before telling Calum what happened. “I ran into Sarah when I was at the mall today and she-- she told me that when you stayed at her house the night of the party the two of you hooked up.”

Calum’s jaw locked and he looked away from Sophie. He shook his head angrily and stood up. “And you believed her?”

“I don’t know, Calum! I don’t know what to believe.”

“Nothing happened, Sophie. You gotta believe me.” Calum assured her and he wasn’t lying.

Sophie didn’t want to ask, but she did anyway. “What if I can’t believe you, Cal?”

“Then you’re gonna be the one breakin’ my heart. Not the other way around,” Calum laughed sadly and shook his head. “When I showed up, she was drunk and she tried to kiss me, tried to talk me into sleeping with her, but I told her no. And when I told her I was with you she got jealous and told me to crash on the couch and be gone when she woke up. Nothing happened, Soph, I swear to God,” Calum sighed and bent down so they were eye to eye again. He took her face in his hands and licked his lips. “You’re all I want. I don’t want anybody else but you.”

“Calum,” Sophie tried to interrupt him, tried to tell him that she believed him because she was the desperation and the sincerity in his eyes, but he kept talking, kept rambling. He was nervous, maybe even a little bit scared, and Sophie could tell.

“And I know I’m not good at relationships, but I’m tryin’ here, and I want to prove Ashton wrong so fuckin’ badly, because I’m not goin’ to break your heart, baby.” Sophie couldn’t help but smile at Calum’s confession and she knew that she could trust him. Hell, she did trust him with everything. “And I know I should have asked you this a while ago, but will you, finally and officially, be my girlfriend? Please?”

Sophie rolled her eyes at the man in front of her but nodded her head and pressed her lips against his in a light and quick kiss. “Yes, Calum. I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Sophie swore she had never seen Calum smile so widely before, his pearly white teeth on full display and the little crinkles by the sides of his eyes, and she knew that it was her new favorite sight. She knew that she would do anything to see it.

❋ ❋ ❋

Taglist: @wrappedaroundcal @roselukes @hereforlukescruff @plainwhiteluke @astroashtonio @catchinqcalum @irwinkitten @irwinvalentines @mistletoemichael @youmaycallmemrshemmings @musicsavedme-00 @complete-trash-101 @jupitergranger @mysteriouslycali @lex-micole @sincerelycalum @calistheloml @kaxseychill @calteahood @mermaid-merrick @verybelowaverage @forggetablle @ihatemyself21 @rexorangecouny @alotof1dlove @dionnealberts @turtlenecktgc @nipplyportman @lauwenrodriguez @uncrowned-cal @ghstofcalum @cliffordcntrl @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @it-was-a-lie @therainydays4 @booklove-2 @pattys-got-cakes @mpadge33 @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @buddhas-princess @nostalgia-luke @tothemoonwithclifford @hopelessxcynic @dannisos @calpalbby @thebodaciouscth @blue-skies-are-alright @90s-good-vibes @sugarcoatedcalum @crystalisinfinite @toofadedtofight @girlstalkreality @rosesfromcth @parkerspicedlatte @rip-lukes-balsamic @miahelizaaabeth @wcstethenightt @mixedfeeelings @isabella-mae13 @antisocialbandmate @ohhmuke @absolute-moody

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shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years ago

Text

Another Way 7

Ian stops into a diner and checks his phone. He is running low on battery and Mickey has called him sixteen times and texted three times more. Mandy has sent a few texts too and Ian definitely wants to get around to answering those but he needs to conserve battery life so just slips the cell back into his pocket. He could do with getting a change of clothes too. The guys outside the club probably thought he was in fancy dress and coming home from a party but they might not like it if he shows up dressed the same tonight.

He counts his cash and is pleasantly surprised to find a crumpled ten dollar bill amongst the change. Well he’s got entire outfits for less at Good Will and happily sips his coffee thinking that he probably doesn’t even need to get shoes. His military issue boots are actually kind of sexy.

The word sexy makes him think of Mickey and he blows a quiet raspberry between his lips. He wonders what sex between him and Svetlana is like and figures it is probably amazing looking but pretty hollow. Mickey is gay. Ian knows that as surely as he knows that he is gay himself. Mickey kicked him in the face last time Ian outright called him on it but that was just Mickey. You push him too far he’s gonna lash out. Like a mean cat. You get those crazy cat people who love all cats no matter how much the fuckers hiss and scratch and pretend to hate having their head stroked. That’s Ian. He’s a crazy Mickey person. He loves Mickey no matter how badly he acts out and that’s just the way it is.

He wonders if Mickey feels a little bit the same. He thinks he must do because not many people drive across state to pick up someone they don’t care about and more than that, the way Mickey looked at him when they said good night … Yeah. He loves Ian. He probably doesn’t really want to admit it but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

Ian finishes his drink, leaves the cash on the table and heads over to the charity store. He manages to get a pair of decent fitting jeans and a long sleeved navy tee that looks like its only been worn a couple of times and even has enough left over for one of the rucksacks which hang above the counter. He gets changed in the fitting room and bids the elderly lady behind the counter a cheery goodbye.

His phone beeps in his pocket and Ian makes a pained face. The battery. Shit. It’s just after one, the Alibi will be open and actually if Ian remembers right, Kev has the same cell! Perfect! He can probably leave a message with someone for Fiona too and maybe for Mickey too, though Mickey tends to drink at home cause it’s cheaper.

Ah well. One thing at a time.

Mickey is in no fucking mood to haggle over prices or agreed liberties and after he breaks a john’s fingers for getting a bit too rough with the girls, Kev suggests he take a break.

“They’re women, not fuckin’ punching bags! Fucker looks like he could do with joining a god damn gym too, maybe then he’ll learn the difference!”

Mickey yells the last word after the hunched and scurrying figure leaving the bar.

“Thanks! We welcome your custom and patronage!”

Kev waves with a desperate smile, his other hand wrapped in the back of Mickey’s shirt.

“Get the fuck off me, Jolly Green!”

Mickey glares and Kev lets go, stepping back behind the bar with a frustrated sigh

“Damn it, Mickey. You can’t just go around breaking customers fingers. It’s not good for our reputation.”

“What fuckin’ reputation?”

“Our reputation! You know? Like, the friendliest brothel in Chicago.”

Kev holds up his hands as if seeing the words in lights and Mickey wrinkles his nose disdainfully

“That ain’t our reputation, man. Our reputation is crappy brothel with half-asleep Russian whores in a shitty pub.”

“Ah, no, that,”

Kev grins

“is our actuality. Yeah, V told me about it. Our reputation is what people thing of us.”

“I know what a god damn reputation is. Apparently you don’t. Friendly? Where the fuck do see friendliness around here?”

“I smile all the time! I’m smiling right now!”

Kev points at his exaggerated, toothy grin but Mickey remains steadfastly unimpressed as he takes a seat at the bar.

“And you look like a fucking retard.”

He snarks, gesturing to the beer pump impatiently. Kev rolls his eyes at the younger man.

“Whatever. Just stop assaulting the customers.”

“How many times did I warn him, huh?”

“Did you warn him?”

Kev asks, frowning as he pulls Mickey a pint.

“Yes I fucking warned him! I said ‘If you touch my girls again, I’m gonna break your fingers.’.”

“Right, but then you just … broke his fingers. I mean, it’s not a warning if you do the thing you said you’d do if they do the thing that you told them to not do before they do the thing ...”

Kev slows down and trails off, confused. He scrunches his nose and then flaps a hand dismissively, passing Mickey his beer.

“Look, point is, we’re not making enough cash and I bet that guy won’t be back now.”

“Sure he will, I broke his fuckin’ hand. How is he gonna jerk off, huh?”

Mickey sighs, slouching over his drink and idly flicking a stray peanut at a semi-passed out regular who doesn’t notice it bounce off his belly.

“What’s got you all pissed off anyway?”

“Gallaghers.”

Mickey spits the word and Kev nods in understanding.

“They can be a handful, that’s for sure. Which one is it?”

“Red head.”

“Which one?”

“They got more than one of those?”

Mickey feels momentarily cheered at the thought of a strapping, mystery Gallagher with flaming hair and no urge to send Mickey to an early grave with worry.

“Ian and little Debbie.”

“Fuck.”

Mickey sips his drink and gazes moodily into the middle distance, his hopes dashed. Kev dries up a couple of glasses and then glances back at Mickey, taking pity on the kid’s morose expression.

“So unless little Debs stole your Barbie, I’m guessing it’s Ian?”

Mickey looks shiftily along the bar and then nods.

“He took off and I don’t know where to fuckin’ look.”

“Didn’t he go right after you got married?”

“What the fuck would me being married have to do with Gallagher leaving?”

Mickey snaps hotly, his eyes locking onto Kev who is reminded of that bit in the Terminator when Arnie is deciding whether to kill something or not by scanning it. He holds up his hands and shakes his head a fraction.

“Nothing, just a … timeline of local events for the community calendar of my mind. Ian left around that time and no ones seen him since.”

Mickey arranges his face in a ‘what the fuck’ expression but seems about as mollified as he ever is by anything. Deciding that he isn’t about to get his teeth knocked out, Kev wipes down the bar and asks

“Does he owe you money?”

“Nah, It’s … it’s nothin’ like that.”

Mickey runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together clearly not about to shed any further light on the situation. Kev is always a little cautious of Mickey, the kid has a temper to rival his father, but he doesn’t actually dislike him at all. He thinks it must be kind of hard actually, being gay and married to a whore and then Ian taking off. It’s a lot for a young man to have going on. Kev reaches across and claps a hand on Mickey’s shoulder lightly

“I wouldn’t worry about it, man. Gallagher’s are like bad pennies, just hang out, play it cool and eventually one will find you whether you want them to or not. Trust me. I have the experience that comes from years of living next door to that family. They’re all insane.”

Mickey grunts his assent at this, he knows his family is fucked up but they’re fucked up in a normal way. The Gallagher’s are something else.

“Don’t know how you fuckin’ survived it.”

“Me neither.”

Kev adds a shot of something brown and strong smelling to Mickey’s budding drinks collection and clinks his own shot glass against the younger man’s, saluting his struggle before slamming it back down his throat.

Mickey watches the bulging muscles of Kev’s neck and arms and wonders briefly if everything about Kev’s anatomy is as large and thick as the man himself. This is the first thought to actually make Mickey smile all day, and he gives a little laugh at his bitchy-horny inner monologue, which Kev mistakes for him being cheered up.

“There you go! Booze, man. It’s always the answer.”

Mickey grins and downs his shot and then picks up his beer as the Alibi door opens and Kev practically explodes in excitement

“BAD PENNY!”

He yells, grabbing Mickey and making him spill beer all over his lap.

“The fu…”

Mickey looks up furiously at Kev and then turns to the door

“Gallagher!”

Ian’s initial smile turns to confused frown and then wide eyed panic as Mickey launches off the bar stall and runs at him. Ian doesn’t stick around to find out why, he just legs it out of the bar and along the road.

“WHAT DID I DO?”

He yells over his shoulder, leaping over trash bags and dodging around an old couple who glare at Ian but leap aside at whatever they read in the face of the young man chasing him.

“MICKEY? WHAT’S GOING ON?”

Ian rounds a corner and feels fingers briefly grip his backpack, then let go again as Mickey stumbles over a glass bottle that rolls under his boot before breaking.

“You fuckin’ ...”

Ian loses the rest of the sentence in the wind rushing past his ears. He should probably stop running and face the music but he has a feeling the music is going to be painful and maybe a little bit bruising, so he keeps running until he rounds the next corner and comes up against a chain link fence. He leaps at it and gets a fairly decent grip to haul himself over but a rough hand grabs the back of his pants, dragging him back.

“Don’t you fucking dare!

Mickey growls, yanking at Ian for all he is worth. Ian clings on as best he can until Mickey finally just jumps, forcing his full weight onto the taller boy, breaking his grip and dropping them both down into the gutter.

Mickey recovers first and clambers on top of Ian, straddling him suddenly uncertain whether he means to strangle him, punch him or kiss him. They’re both breathing heavily but despite Mickey having developed a pretty decent sprint, Ian is still fitter and manages to roll Mickey off with a grunt of effort. They grapple in the dirt, Ian slapping in ineffective token effort at Mickey’s back and Mickey making a pretty big show of trying to get on top which suddenly strikes Ian as hilarious and he starts laughing, loud, rich peals of amusement that cut through Mickey’s red mist of conquest.

“What?”

“You trying to get on top of me! First … first time for everything I guess.”

Ian cackles and Mickey lands his first genuine blow, giving Ian a dead leg.

“Ow! Fuck! What the Hell, Mickey?”

Mickey sits up, panting and wraps his arms around his knees, glaring at Ian

“Where the fuck did you go, huh?”

“When?”

“This morning, dumbass! I woke up to a booby-trapped coffee cup beside my bed and you’d vanished into thin air. I’ve been calling you all fuckin’ morning and no answer ...”

Mickey breaks off and grabs a full lung full of foul smelling air, blue eyes trained on Gallagher for any sign that he might try to make a break for it.

“I had shit to do, but listen; I found a job so it’s all good!”

“What job?”

“A bar job I think … it’s in Boys Town.”

“The fuck? You ain’t working in one of those fuckin’ pervert palaces. You’ll get raped in the toilet by some banker off his tits on coke and Viagra.”

Mickey forgets his irritation over Ian’s disappearance to focus on his new and greater irritation with Ian for wanting to serve himself up on a platter for the lower class of lecherous old queers that frequent this side of the city.

“Why not? I gotta work and I heard that the pay is incredible.”

“No.”

Mickey says flatly and Ian juts his jaw out stubbornly.

“I wasn’t asking your permission, Mickey.”

“Good, cause you ain’t getting it.”

They stare at each other, both sat in the dirt and each doing their best to conceal the seriously unwanted erections that are fighting against the stretch of denim. Ian breaks eye contact first and sighs, looking down at his hands.

“You’re not my boyfriend, Mick. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Mickey looks away, squinting down the alley to avoid having to look at Ian. He licks his lip and rolls his jaw, finally looking back toward Ian through the sweep of partially lowered lashes

“You coming back?”

“Back to what?”

Ian asks and Mickey is at a loss as to whether that question is actually as loaded as it sounds.

“To the house. Me. Us.”

Mickey says eventually and Ian sighs heavily, shaking his head with the ghost of a smile

“Back to your homophobic father’s house, where your pregnant wife shares your bed and I sleep on the sofa so no one will find out you’re gay?”

Ian taps long fingers against his backpack. He knows the look that comes across Mickey’s face as he speaks, he’s preparing himself for the worst whilst secretly hoping for the best and Ian wants to give him everything but he needs to preserve his self-respect, at least a little, no matter how much he loves Mickey Milkovich. If he’s going to be a bit on the side then he’s going to make sure he gets something for himself too.

“I guess it depends.”

“On what?”

Mickey looks round suspiciously and Ian shrugs but fixes Mickey with a determinedly firm expression.

“You. Sucking my dick. Whenever I want.”

“Fuck off.”

Mickey’s brows lower as he squirms uncomfortably beneath Ian’s mischievous green gaze.

“Fine. Then if you want to hang out you can come and see me at my workplace.”

Ian begins to stand up, dusting his palms off on his jeans and Mickey realises that he is about to lose Ian Gallagher again. If it was anyone else asking this shit of him … but it’s not anyone else. It’s Ian. His Ian.

Mickey is terrified of all the things the redhead makes him feel and all the things being around him makes Mickey want but beyond the confusion there is the absolutely all-consuming desire to comply and just give Ian whatever he wants. Mickey wants to please him, he wants to feel Ian’s dick in his mouth, and he wants him to be in as much of his life as it is possible for him to be. Mickey wants those things more than he has ever wanted anything in his life.

“I’ll do it.”

He rasps, looking up at Ian who simply raises his eyebrows nonchalantly at Mickey and says

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me fuckin’ say it, man.”

Mickey can hear the faint pleading tone in his voice and apparently Ian hears it too because his stony countenance softens into a gentle smirk

“Suck my dick. Whenever I want.”

The world shrinks down to nothingness around them as Mickey’s tongue rolls across his bottom lip. His life is so messed up and Ian’s ultimatum is making his blood pound in his ears like he’s just had a knock-out blow to the head, which he supposes in a way he has.

And he could say no, he could walk away but Mickey is tired of pretending that he doesn’t want this when the truth is that he is desperate for it. For the feel of Ian pushing into him, his lips and teeth working across Mickey’s body and his nose brushing against Mickey’s own as they kiss in the afterglow of their pleasure. He wants it all and he wants Ian to demand it of him. He wants Ian to see him in the way that only Ian has ever seen him, to look at him like he used to before it all went wrong.

“Fuck it.”

He breathes and stands up, boxing Ian swiftly backwards between two skips out of sight of any casual passer-by. The grin on Ian’s face is creating a flame of want in Mickey’s chest and by the time he yanks Gallagher’s jeans open and releases his cock into the sunlight, they are both more than ready.

Large hands tangle in thick black hair and push Mickey down to his knees. Ian tips his head back against the rough brickwork and thrusts his hips forward. Mickey moans scratchily, a raw guttural sound that vibrates deliciously against Ian’s dick and elicits a noise all of Ian’s own, caught somewhere between a sob and a happy laugh.

Mickey trails his fingertips through the bright red of Ian’s pubic hair. It has been so long since he felt this whole and he is pining for more.

Mickey chances a glance upwards and finds Ian looking down at him with that look in his eyes that makes Mickey feel warm from the tips of his ears to the pit of his gut and lower still.

He fumbles with his own fly and wraps his hand tightly around himself. It doesn’t take much to get him there but he holds back until Ian grunts and clenches his ass, pushing forward once more and then, as Ian fills his mouth, Mickey closes his eyes and let’s go.

#shameless #shameless fluff #shameless fanfiction #Another Way fic #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #Ian Gallagher

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