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wontmindd · 1 year ago

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THE SMITHS | Adam x fem!angel!Reader

SECOND PART

plot. in which Adam, after bumping into you listening to music in the elevator, gives you unsolicited music recommendations.

tags. first meetings, Adam being Adam, flirting, concerts, music, getting to know each other, rockstar Adam (still takes place in canon).

taglist. @call-me-nyxx

a/n. Adam is my muse at this point, he's directing all my creative energy lmao. This came up to me as an idea last night, kinda different from my usual Adam content! Might do a part 2, we'll see about that, enjoy!

«Take me out tonight, where there's music and there's people who are young and alive»

The elevator doors slide close, the few heavenly beings have exited, leaving you alone inside the cubic space. Absentmindedly, your foot starts tapping on the floor. A faint melody can be heard from outside your earbuds, the volume of the music set on max. You bumped music in your ears every chance you got, including when you were on bureaucratic duty for the Seraphim's.

«Driving in your car, I never ever want to go home».

As the elevator stops at the upper floor, the doors slide open and reveal who called it. Immediately, you adjust your pose, clutching your paperwork against your chest with arms crossed. Adam, the First Man, just entered the elevator.

He's loudly sipping what seems to be a sugary beverage from a large cup, positioning himself next to you. You've seen him many times, from a distance. At meetings, where you worked as an assistant, walking around Heaven, on posters advertising his band, in court. But you never interacted, there was no reason to. He was one of the big heads of Heaven, while you just hoped that nobody would yell at you for not adding enough milk to their coffee. Of course, this is what makes you nervous. But when the doors close again, you take a deep breath and let the music envelope you again.

«And if a double decker bus, crashes into us»

You relax, forgetting that Adam is next to you. You just stare at the elevator doors, unbothered. You just let yourself get lost in the sad, indie rock tunes that paradoxically raised your spirits. That's until, with the corner of your eye, you see Adam turning towards you. He's saying something, but music muffles your hearing.

«Ihatethasmiths»

You remove one of your earbuds, and you turn around with a gentle, sweet smile.

«Mh? Sorry?» you ask, the corner of your lips curling upwards.

«I said I fuckin' hate The Smiths!».

Your smile fades out immediately, your eyes go wide and your eyebrows shoot upwards. Adam goes back to look straight in front of him.

«tO dIe By YoUr SIdE iS SucH a HeaVenLy wAY to DiE! Ugh, fuckin' hate 'em » he mocks.

Dumbfounded, you just stare at the First Man in shock. Your mouth is slightly open, and your earbud is still pressed between your thumb and index as you can still hear There Is a Light That Never Goes Out playing. Then, the elevator doors slide open with a ding! and Adam just exits, slurping loudly his drink as if nothing happened. You follow him with your gaze, still in shock. The doors start closing again.

«Holy shit» that's all you can say, before disappearing behind them.

—

Next week, you're still in the elevator, a cup of hot coffee in your hand and your earbuds religiously plugged in your ears. Today you're in a good mood. The Heaven Headquarters offices weren't too packed with work and you were rising to the highest floor of the palace to spend time with your co-workers. That's until the elevator stops and the First Man Adam comes in. Again. You stiffen, your wings twitch and, hoping to not be noticed, you roll your eyes. Now that you think about it, it's the same day and hour you two met last week. When he, not-so-kindly, expressed his disappointment in your music taste. Suddenly, you realize something else. That you're...

«You still listenin' to that crap?» Adam says, pointing a finger towards your earbuds.

You sigh, resigned. You're still listening to The Smiths. This time around you heard Adam loud and clear, but you turn the volume down anyways. And, not caring about being all dignified and reverential in front of him, you roll your eyes in front of him.

«Yeah, I'm still listening to The Smiths. Heaven knows I'm Miserable Now».

Adam, scoffing, symbolically brings two fingers towards his mask and pretends to throw up.

«The Smiths are the bane of rock, I swear! Who wants to listen to a man being all whiny about love, vegetarianism and shit. Rock 'n roll is something else, I tell you»

«I disagree on that»

How did you even end up in this situation? Discussing music in an elevator with the First Man on Earth, one of the most important authorities of Heaven. It's just unreal, so much that going on doesn't bother you that much.

«You're into rock music?» Adam asks, shaking his usual drink in his hand, ice making a crisp sound inside the cup.

«Safe to say yes» you say, a collected but confident smile on your face.

«Okay, okay» Adam smirks, mischievous «and who are you rocking out to?»

«Oasis» you reply.

«Ugh»

«Radiohead»

«Nahh»

«Arctic Monkeys»

«Ew»

«Joy Division»

«For fucks sake woman, are you gonna give me a real rock band or keep naming your emo fest-»

«Guns 'n Roses»

Adam's breath stops for a second. You stare at him with a challenging look. His LED eyes digitally burned on his mask squint.

«Okayy miss...?»

«(Y/N)»

«(Y/N). Name 3 Guns 'n Roses songs»

You raise a finger in front of him, your eyes wide in a sort of prohibitive look.

«Nuh uh, don't you try to pull that move on me, I'm not gonna name anything».

«Tch, as I thought» Adam says, before sipping on his cup of icy soda.

You emit an annoyed groan, before sipping on your coffee yourself. As you're about to press start again on your phone to replay the music and metaphorically cancel Adam's presence from the elevator, he speaks again.

«Listen, girlie, if you wanna listen to some real rock music you should, first of all, give up on that sentimental bullshit that people call rock nowadays. Second, you can start by coming to one of my concerts. I'm-»

«Adam, The First Man. I know who you are» you interrupt.

You move your weight from one leg to the other, as Adam playfully smirks at you.

«Of course you know who I am, you probably heard of me from my band»

«Actually, I work as an assistant for the Seraphims meetings» you say.

«Oh, nah I never noticed you. You sure you don't know me from my band? We're pretty sick»

It's not like you expected him to know you from meetings. You mostly worked behind closed doors, preparing paperwork and only handling it to Seraphims last minute. And Adam wasn't really a necessary presence at meetings. He was important, an authority holding a great power for sure, but you don't really understand of what kind.

«I heard that you got a band but sorry, Christian rock is not my genre» you reply, nonchalantly.

Adam jumps a little in surprise, an appalled sound escaping his lips.

«Oh no sweetie, you got it all wrong. Didn't you listen to me when I said that we're a real rock band? We sing about all things rock» he says, theatrically.

«For example?»

«Sex, drugs and bitches of course».

You let out an ironic chuckle, not thoroughly convinced.

«I heard your venues are like, really crowded. I don't know if I feel like tip-toeing all night long to see anything»

«You can always tell security that you're with me»

His statement surprises you, so much that you turn around with a frowned forehead. The scrunch in your face says it all about your uncertainty. Adam looks chill, confidently leaning on the elevator's mirror and looking at you. How long have you been riding this thing?

«You think they'll believe me? Not even in a 100 years»

«Listen sweet cheeks, I'll meet you at the queue between sound check and the start of the show and I'll directly tell em that you're with me».

«You want me to play groupie?»

«Aren't you already?» Adam grins with a wiggle of his eyebrows. A very shit-eating grin.

You let out a playful and sarcastic chuckle «No, but I accept your offer, Mr. Real Rockstar»

«More of a real rockstar than Morissey»

The elevator doors open, it feels like you've been there for an eternity but not necessarily in a bad way. It's Adam's floor, the one just beneath yours, and he waves at you goodbye with a hand.

«See you Saturday, you'll be my number one fan».

«You wish»

How was that one of the most annoying, yet weirdly entertaining conversations you ever had?

—

You've never been to an Adam's concert, because you never had the chance to get into his music even if he was really known all around Heaven. But it was true that his gigs were packed. The line is infinite, and the venue probably won't even be enough for all these people. Suddenly you start to regret your decision. Damn, you even dressed up for this! You nervously start shifting your weight from one side to the other of your body. Security is already telling some people to just go home because it's likely that tickets just ran out. One titanic of a bodyguard goes up to you, arms crossed.

«I'm sorry miss, but we're out of tickets»

«Oh it's fi-»

You can't finish the phrase, distracted by the feeling of a stranger arm wrapping around your shoulders. You straighten yourself, and turn around alarmed. Adam had appeared from behind a portal, which immediately closed behind him. All the people left in the queue turn around, shocked to see the frontman appear right there.

«Don't worry dude, she's with me» he says, confidently.

How can someone be such a loser and so charismatic at the same time? This is what you ask yourself while wrapped around Adam's arm. The security guard nods, and Adam opens the portal back with a snap of fingers. Soon, you find yourself in the front row. Did he just transport you there? Adam has already let go of your shoulders, standing behind the barrier. Fans in the front row start going crazy at the unexpected sight of the frontman. As they scream incoherent, adoring gibberish to him, Adam stays focused on you.

«I'm happy you're here. Trust me, your ears will thank me for blessing them with some real rock» he says, his playful smirk permanently printed on his mask.

You roll your eyes, but you're betrayed by your own smile «We'll see»

«Trust me, you won't be disappointed» Adam replied.

Then, he winks at you before turning around and heading towards the backstage.

When the concert is over, you can confidently say that no, you aren't disappointed. As much as you hate to admit it, Adam can get it. He knows how to play guitar, he's vocally a beast in every good sense possible, and he's a stage animal. He's an idiot for sure, an arrogant one, but he quite literally fucking rocks. It's the way he plays guitar solos, his finger picking technique flawless and effortless. And how he knew how to talk to the crowd, how to move on stage. And you also saw him for the first time without a mask. You didn't know what to expect, but you have no complaints whatsoever. Brown, messy hair, dark but charming circles under his eyes, a fierce grin on his face. You felt your stomach fluttering when he obviously looked at you during Stick It To The Man. As people are leaving the venue, you're about to do the same. Maybe you and Adam will talk about it on your next random encounter on the elevator. But, before you can turn around, you see a security guard gesturing you to come close. He opens the barrier for you, and, confused, you shuffle your way through it.

«Yeah?» you ask.

«Adam wants to see you» the bodyguard says, moving his head to invite you to follow him.

Your heart skips a beat. This is some groupie shit. But you don't mind. You follow the security guard to the backstage, hugging yourself slightly out of nervousness. Adam, who was talking to the drummer, immediately stops the conversation when he sees you approaching behind the security guard. A wide smile extends on his face.

«So, (Y/N)! Did you change your mind about The Smiths?» he asks, opening his arms.

You place your hands on your hips «No, but...you weren't half-bad»

«Not half-bad?» he says, almost offended.

You decide to give up the tough girl act «Okay, I'll admit it, you know how to rock. You were really good».

«HA! Told you! Ladies love my band and you're no exception. And THIS is real rock»

«I'll still bump the shit out of The Smiths next time we meet on the elevator» you protest with a smirk, crossing your arms on your chest.

Adam drags a hand between his messy hair «Instead of meeting in the elevator, me and the rest of the band are going to the after party. It's in a club near the venue. Why don't you come? I still have to recommend you some real music»

Oh this is bad. Adam's teasing smile, the way he got closer to you and is now staring down at you without a shade of awkwardness. And the fact that one of his skilled hands is now placed on your waist, again, without any form of hesitation. Is he hitting on you? You feel your face burning, pressing your lips together. Would accepting make you a groupie? And soon, you realize that you don't care.

«Okay, First Man, I'll come with you. But only if you don't ask me to name 3 songs of a band»

«Deal»

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #writers on tumblr #hazbin hotel fanfiction #adam x reader #adam x y/n #adam #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam fanfiction #adam hazbin hotel #first man adam #adam fanfiction #vivziepop

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

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Jim Street, Instagram Boyfriend

Requested Here by @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses

Pairing: Jim Street x shy!fem!reader

Summary: You want a picture but are too shy to ask anyone to take it. When Jim Street sees you waiting, he becomes the Instagram boyfriend he was born to be.

Warnings: so much fluff, Luca and Hondo (lovingly) trash talk Deac and his advice

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Los Angeles looks different from the top. Standing outside the Griffith Observatory, most of the LA basin is clear in the daylight, and all the people taking pictures in front of the view prove its beauty. You’d like a picture, too, but between your shyness and not seeing anyone who looks like they’d be willing to stop for someone other than themselves, you’ve taken to standing at the side and waiting for the right moment. When – or if – you see someone who looks nice enough that you could ask for their help, then you’ll worry about getting the right words out.

“Why are we here again?” Street asks as Luca leads him around the observatory.

“We’re scouting,” Luca answers.

“Scouting what? You can’t see anything clearly from up here, man. Except the restaurant that you promised to take me to.”

“After I finish my errands,” Luca reminds him. He slaps Street’s back and adds, “Let me do what I need to do.”

Street sighs as he nods. Once Luca has walked several paces ahead, Street mumbles, “Sure, I’ll just be here. Starving.”

While Luca approaches a telescope, Street shakes his head and looks out over the overlook balcony. There are couples taking pictures, men and women posing for quick selfies, and… someone else watching the other people. Street forgets about his hunger, though it had been slightly played up for Luca, as he watches you. You’re nervous, he can tell that easily, but as he watches your eyes flit from person to person and sees your bottom lip drawn between your teeth, he knows that he needs to do something.

While you turn toward the view momentarily, Street approaches you. Even if his team thinks differently and reminds him often, he is a good man and would do anything to help someone who needs it. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, he’ll try to help. You look up just as he reaches you, and he smiles easily.

“Hey,” Street begins. “Do you need some help?”

Your breath catches at the view. Not Los Angeles below you, no, you’ve seen that, but the man standing before you is so handsome that you have to remind your body to breathe. At your silence, he raises his eyebrows but continues smiling.

“I- uh- would you maybe be willing to take my picture?” you force out, mentally kicking yourself for how small and shy your voice sounds. Who could blame you? another part of your mind wonders.

Street releases a breath, relieved that you are okay. He’d been concerned that something had happened, but now that he hears you and connects the dots, he can see that you just wanted a picture but are shy. Just looking for the right person and time to ask, he assumes.

“Absolutely! I’ll take as many as you want,” Street answers quickly.

You smile and turn your chin to the side, growing shyer at his undivided attention and the sound of his voice. The observatory relies on the beauty of the heavens for advertising, but you think the real beauty is standing before you. And asking for your phone, you realize with a start.

“Sorry,” you murmur as you pass your phone to him.

“No worries,” he assures. “What kind of picture do you want?”

“Is there more than one?” you inquire, tilting your head to the side.

Street chuckles at the curiosity in your body language and wonders why more people haven’t taken pictures of you. You’re stunning, and even if you’re too shy to ask, surely someone else can see that your beauty needs to be captured.

“In that case,” he begins, “I’ll take the pictures and you just keep doing what you’re doing, being gorgeous.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, and they warm as you smile.

“I’m Street, by the way. Well, Jim Street, but everyone calls me Street because…” Street rambles.

You introduce yourself in reply, and he watches you on the phone screen. Seeing you through the camera lens is different, and Street’s words dry up. “Okay, I’m going to take pictures,” he whispers.

Street bends his knees and squats, trying to find the perfect angle. He moves one foot back without standing, and your smile widens at his dedication.

“Hey, if I fall to my death trying to get this right, make sure you get the picture, alright?” Street requests. “I’ll throw the phone back up to you.”

You laugh, not the shy, swallowed chuckle from before, but a real laugh and Street taps the screen so many times he momentarily worries that you’ll run out of storage space.

“That’s awful,” you chide lightly. “There’s no way a picture of me is worth that.”

Street lowers your phone to send a serious look over the top. “Don’t do that.”

You sober quickly, your laughs dying at the tone of his voice. “Okay,” you whisper.

You bring your hands together before you, and Street snaps another photo as he stands. He opens your camera roll and begins swiping backward to check the images he captures. When he sees the first picture of you laughing, he freezes. In a moment, looking at that candid, Jim Street falls for you, and he falls harder and faster than if he had gone off the side of the balcony.

“Do they look okay?” you inquire.

Street looks up but can’t find a single word to say. You’re just as beautiful in person, yet he can’t communicate all the feelings in his chest right now.

“Let me get one more,” he forces out.

“Sure.”

“Put your left hand on the railing,” Street instructs. “Good, now turn your chin toward me. Perfect.”

He drops into what you can only describe as a Spider-Man pose and leans to the side to take the picture. Your smile turns genuine while you watch him, and he hums contentedly as he finishes testing the angles.

“Thank you so much,” you say as he stands. “I honestly can’t thank you enough.”

Street nods but doesn’t look away from your phone for a moment. When he hands it back, your fingers brush his, bringing all those sudden feelings he felt before back like a raging flood.

“Thank you,” you repeat, quieter.

“I hope this wasn’t too forward, but I texted myself, so I have your number if you need anything,” Street responds. “Amateur photographer or otherwise.”

You drop your chin but force yourself to hold eye contact with Street as he speaks. With your fingers curling into a shy, nervous fist, you nod.

“That’s fine,” you assure him softly. “And… I’d like to talk to you since you have my number.”

“Great.”

“Street! Let’s go!” Luca calls from across the balcony.

“That’s my cue,” Street tells you. “I’ll talk to you later, pretty girl.”

You bite your bottom lip to keep your emotions somewhat contained. “Good.”

Street smiles at you once more before he turns and walks away. You watch him for a moment, then look down at your phone. As you unlock it, it buzzes with a new text. The contact’s name: Jim Street, photographer for the prettiest girl in the world makes you smile. Once the text thread is open, however, your smile drops as shock takes its place. Street sent himself a picture of you laughing, not just a text. When you look up again, he and his friend are gone. At least it’s a good picture for once, you think.

“Who was the girl?” Luca asks.

“What girl?” Street counters.

“What girl? The girl at the observatory.”

Street tells Luca your name but doesn’t explain how you met or started talking. You’ve been on Street’s mind since then, but you’re shy and he doesn’t want to scare you away by rushing into anything. He fell hard and fast, but that doesn’t mean he should try to force you to do the same, especially when it could risk scaring you away.

“Are you going to see her again?” Luca asks.

“I want to,” Street admits. “It’s too fast, you know. We just met.”

“And you were looking at each other like you were fifteen seconds from going to Vegas and getting married. Text her, call her, whatever it is you do.”

“But-“

“Don’t argue with me, Streeter. I’ll call Duke in here to tackle you.”

“With what strength?” Street argues. “Kisses?”

“Or I’ll tell Deacon and let him know you want relationship advice,” Luca challenges with a knowing smile.

“You’re evil, Luca. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Luca turns away from Street and answers, “It’s been mentioned, but they usually take it back when I’m their groomsman.”

Street rolls his eyes but reaches for his phone regardless. He needs to see you; more than the picture that has become his phone’s home screen and consumed all his thoughts, he needs to see you in person again. The text he sends is simple, just an explanation that he thinks you are beautiful and kind, and he wants to spend time with you.

Street begins to put his phone away, but your response is nearly immediate: I think the same about you. When and where?

Street throws his fist up in victory and ignores Luca’s muffled, “I told you!” from the other room.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” Street says during your date.

You look just as beautiful as when you met, and you’ve slowly opened up to him. At that comment, you shake your head in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you asked me out,” you reply. “I mean, I fell for you the moment you walked up.”

“Then I win.”

“It’s a competition?”

“Of course.”

You nod but remain dubious as you ask, “Then wouldn’t I win, since I fell first?”

“I fell for you in the time of a camera shutter, so no.”

Your smile drops as you watch Street. There is no reason you shouldn’t believe him, but men like Street don’t usually fall for women like you… if they fall at all.

“Hey,” Street calls. “Don’t do that. Whatever is going on in that breathtaking head, stop.”

“I just-“

“Don’t believe me?”

“No, it’s not that, just… why me?”

Street pulls his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and slides it across the table. You see the picture of you as his wallpaper and quickly look back at Street. He smiles and takes your hand over the table.

“I mean it. Even if you did laugh when I talked about dying,” he promises.

You laugh yet again, and Street’s world lights up.

“Can I take another picture?” Street asks excitedly.

“One condition,” you answer through your laughter. “There has to be a date for every picture.”

“That’s going to be a lot of dates,” Street points out. “Did you see how many I already took?”

“I did. That’s why I disagree with your title of ‘amateur’ photographer.”

“Maybe I’m just… what are they called? The guys who do whatever their girlfriends ask to get the perfect picture?”

You roll your eyes, but squeeze Street’s hand as you answer, “You, Jim Street, are most definitely an Instagram boyfriend.”

Street pulls your hand gently, and as you bend over the table, he raises his other hand to your chin. “Did you just call me your boyfriend?” he asks. “This moment deserves a picture.”

Bonus:

“Street, your phone is ringing!” Hondo yells. He leans over and looks at the caller ID before the call goes to voicemail.

“Sorry,” Street apologizes as he walks into Hondo’s kitchen. “Forgot where I set it down.”

“No worries.”

Street picks up his phone, but doesn’t leave before Hondo asks, “So… you take selfies with girls now, playboy?”

“Something like that.”

“She’s pretty.”

“I know.”

“I’m happy for you, Street,” Hondo adds. “It’s obvious that she’s good for you.”

Luca walks into the kitchen as Hondo finishes speaking, and agrees, “She turned playboy Street into puppy dog photographer Street.”

“Who did?” Deacon asks.

Luca presses his lips together to hide his smile but shrugs as Street glares at him.

“Well, Deac,” Hondo begins. “You’ve got another boy ready to settle down. Care to tell him how it’s done?”

Street directs his glare to Hondo, but it disappears when Deacon double-taps Street’s back and says, “I think he’s got it figured out.”

“Are we talking about the same Street?” Luca asks quickly.

“I’ve seen the pictures,” Deacon explains. “They’re good without my advice.”

Deacon steps out, and Street’s phone rings again. He answers and disappears into another room, leaving Hondo and Luca alone.

“I didn’t think I’d live to see it,” Hondo muses.

“Wait until you see them in person,” Luca says. “Jim Street, puppy dog photographer, is more fitting than you’re thinking.”

#jim street x reader #jim street x fem!reader #jim street fluff #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street #swat cbs #swat x reader #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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kibbles-bits · 3 months ago

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Happy New Year🥳🍾🎉🎆 Heaven's Best AU what kind celebration everyone did! I am even curious what kind improvement Winner!Vox did for Heaven!?

What Vox does in Heaven is touched upon here.

"...media entertainment, news, organizing public events and he has a finger in the development of new technology. He’s involved in most things that make people happy and content in Heaven."

So that answers that question! Below? More yapping that expands on it!

Vox is very insecure about his place in Heaven, though by the time Heaven's Best starts, that feeling has been repressed and he's spent the last 50ish years making sure that the reason he is Different from everyone is because he is Better than everyone else. An idea that Emily unknowingly enables by supporting his ideas since she has complete faith in his Goodness and placement in Heaven.

It's that drive to be Better that makes him want to improve Heaven. Because improving perfection is the most impressive thing he can think of doing. So he gets involved in as many things as he can.

The first thing he gets control of is communications. He charms his way into radio and television until he's the one in charge of the biggest networks. He uses that to bolster other events or activities he's managing until his events are the only ones that get attention. Other Winners managing events come to him to ask him to advertise their projects and... of course he does! He's such a nice guy, after all. But perhaps it'd be easier if you add his name to those projects you're advertising, after all, everyone knows Vox now... Of course, he wouldn't want his name on it if he didn't contribute something. Say, how about you let him provide input on your projects too? He'd really be part of the team, then!

One very specific thing he does to support every individual in Heaven is interview them.

Vox puts every new Winner at the same level almost the same day they arrive. He collects all of the information he can, interviews them, and compiles it all into a profile piece to be shown on the appropriate channels of Heaven. He gives them all the same level of Hype, no matter what it is they did in life.

None of them are special.

(None of them are better than him.)

And this isn't bad! Look at him, treating everyone equally! Making them all feel at home and amongst peers! Even the smallest deed deserves the biggest of praise! Your jobs are done! You are in paradise! Reap your rewards that Vox so generously supplies to you.

Er, well, that Vox, the Seraphim and the Archangels supply to you.

And isn't that impressive? Vox is friends with a Seraphim, Emily.

The biggest advantage Vox has over any other Winner is his bond with Emily, one of the Seraphim who took a personal interest in him and his attempts to make everything in Heaven better. Emily's job is to make sure all the Winners in Heaven are Happy and Vox is eager to work alongside her with that.

Emily and Vox. Vox and Emily. Everyone knows they're friends. Why would anyone question the judgement of a Seraphim? Not that anyone can really pinpoint exactly what might be off about Vox. He's never done anything bad. All he's ever wanted to do is contribute and make things better for everyone. Make everyone happy, just like Emily... right? Who were they to stand in the way of him helping her?

Though, one questionable way he helps her is through surveillance...

He once suggested to Emily that they have cameras installed to help keep track of everyone's happiness. Emily agreed, assuming he just meant in public event spaces, and Vox uses that as blanket permission to put cameras... well... everywhere. And woops now he knows everything about everyone! Very convenient for data collection but it's okay since he's using the information to make Heaven better! He loves giving answers to Emily when she isn't sure why a Winner isn't happy.

She does think its strange that he knows so much about people when she never really sees him socialize, but maybe its a human thing...

Heaven is sooo improved, guys.

(Read the Heaven’s Best AU HERE)

#Heaven's Best AU #Hazbin Hotel #Vox #Emily #angelvan105 #asks #kibbles art

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sylusjinwoon · 10 months ago

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{ 182 }

saturn.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

warnings: unedited; mentions of drug use and near o-erdose; smoking; drinking; parental neglect.

{ stuck in this paradigm | don't believe in paradise | this must be what hell is like | there's got to be more, got to be more | sick of this head of mine | intrusive thoughts, they paralyze | nirvana's not as advertised | there's got to be more, been here before }

anonymous said: I have an idea I know you really like to write about a certain type of reader so you don’t need to do anything But I just adore a reader thats nice and caring but only on the outside. Someone who pretends to be ditzy and clumsy but in reality is anything but that. A wolf in sheep’s clothing basically. I’d imagine only certain people could see who reader truly was but just didn’t care or no one believed them. As for the reason reader would behave like this, I would assume it’s related to childhood trauma that lead to trust issues and consistently feeling unsafe. This would lead to them seeking to manipulate others and pretending to be someone their not to keep themselves safe. This would be a great thing to write about because reader could finally let their guard down and show their true self in front of their lover because they trust them. Whether this reader is a high ranked hunter or not, it is all your choosing.(but i will point out that society and the media can be easily manipulated. And they would love a rare “friendly” s-rank.) I could see this reader being with many characters, but you’re the writer so you can choose. As for how would this character get with another, it would depend on who you are pairing them with. For someone more introverted, they could catch readers interest for some strange reason and that could lead to reader keeping an eye on the character. For more extroverted and bold characters, the character could just see through readers disguise and be interested in reader. I know you love fluffy things so this is just an idea. I’m just a sucker for characters being healed by their significant other.

jinwoo sung felt like he was on top of the world when he managed to capture your heart.

being known as the 'sunshine hunter'; you truly lived up to your nickname as you retained your gentle and kind aura, practically radiating with positivity.

he truly admired your strength, being labeled as a rare, s-rank hunter who wasn't pompous and treated everyone as your equal. your smiles were filled with a saccharine sweetness, and the more jinwoo observed you, the more he became utterly captivated by you.

your honeyed sweetness was enough to trap him, keeping him mesmerized as his heart was settled within the palm of your hand.

so it came as no surprise when he confesses to you, leaving you the tiniest bit shocked before ultimately accepting his feelings for you.

how could jinwoo not feel like he was in heaven, being able to obtain someone as kind and sweet as you? how could he not feel lucky at the thought of being able to hold you within his arms each time he came home at night?

you held his heart and soul-

and jinwoo could only wish that you felt the same way when it came to him.

{ ... }

your life felt like it was becoming more exhausted with each smile you gave your co-workers and peers.

how could they not see your strained smile or the way the light seemed to die within your gaze as each word was forced from your parted lips?

how could they not detect the fake sweetness within your tone?

how could they not see how much you were drowning?

as you donned your hoodie and mask, wishing to avoid all fan contact while making your way home, you thought about the man you shared your apartment with.

the man you were dating...

your boyfriend-

jinwoo...

a strange sense of guilt fills you at the thought of him.

you had accepted his confession despite knowing how, deep down, he was attracted to the mask you always wore-

if he ever knew about your true self, then he would surely leave you.

growing up, you didn't have what many would call a 'happy childhood.' your mother admitted that you were an accident that never meant to happen; that when she slept with the man who would help shape you into a full human being, she got drunk and forgot to use protection.

when she found out that she was pregnant with you, she admits it to being 'too late' to have an abortion as she begrudgingly gave birth to you.

sure, during your younger years, she fed and dressed you; sent you to school when you were old enough-

but all the attention she gave you was the bare minimum.

during your teenaged years, when you could better understand just how neglectful she was, you did everything you could to make her start caring for you. during school nights, you would purposely stay out later than usual, going out with the 'bad group' of people.

you tossed aside your virginity carelessly to a mutual classmate and had your first cigarette with him (coughing all the way).

you tried your fair share of illicit drugs and nearly overdosed when you mistakenly took too much of it-

but all you received from your mother was an icy glare as she told you how much of a parasite and an attention seeking whore you were-

needless to say, the moment you were 18, you left that home and never looked back. by some miracle, when the gates began to appear all across the world, you found that you were pretty powerful and could fight these monsters during these raids.

it was thanks to the appearance of these gates that you felt less useless, your mother's neglect and hurtful words slowly morphing into the back of your mind as you swore to yourself to never reveal your true self ever again.

not wishing to be ridiculed and hated for who you truly were, you put on an intricately made façade; one that was filled with wide smiles and constant words of praise from you. you walked with confidence, (like there was not a single thing wrong with your life), with your head held high, never once revealing your exhaustion or depressed state.

and for a while, things went well, with you even being labeled as the 'sunshine hunter' as people flocked to you, adoring you with every press conference you held while asking for pictures and autographs at every chance by your fans.

you basked in the attention, greedily devouring it all as you used it as a substitute for the lack of love you received from your mother.

but lately, your persona was cracking when you managed to capture jinwoo's heart with your mask of light.

perhaps he was the one good thing in your life that you truly didn't deserve. he was everything that you weren't:

he had loving parents and a little sister that adored him;

he was powerful; far surpassing you as a hunter while being able to summon what seemed like millions of shadow soldiers-

you felt like such a damn sham for capturing his heart-

and it was tearing you apart.

what were you supposed to do when he sweetly gazed at you with his gentle grey eyes, asking you to move in with him?

how could you possibly disappoint the man who genuinely loved you?

the man that you were also genuinely falling for.

the emotions and memories were becoming too much to bear, with your steps quickening as you fought back tears. you knew that jinwoo had placed some of his soldiers within your shadow and would see you at any point and time (hence why you had your hoodie up and a mask on).

but there was only so much such flimsy coverings could do, and eventually, your face would remain bare for him. jinwoo would see the pain in your eyes, and the mask you had so carefully crafted would disintegrate into dust.

pursing your lips, you felt grateful that you arrived back at the apartment you shared with jinwoo, taking the elevators to the top floor as you angrily wiped away your tears.

you could no longer keep lying to jinwoo and the world.

you had to come clean and leave him first, admitting to him just how exhausted you were at pretending all the time.

before jinwoo ever came into your life, it was easy for you to keep up your bright and sunny persona, since the moment you came home, you were able to peel off that faux layer of your psyche while basking in who you truly were.

pessimistic.

cynical.

hard to love.

truly the exact opposite of who jinwoo was.

so while your relationship and romance was still growing, you knew it was best to cut it off while it was still in its early stages.

once you returned to the momentary sanctuary of your apartment, you tossed aside your mask and brought down your hood, taking long strides into the kitchen to grab two cans of ice-cold beer. cracking one of the aluminum cans open, you take deep swigs from it, draining it within a few gulps as you belched and tossed aside the can within the bin.

opening the second beer, you step into the bedroom and took out a suitcase, haphazardly filling it with your clothes and undergarments. you didn't care to try and make everything fit, wishing to leave before jinwoo ever came home.

getting tipsier by the minute, you drain the second beer as well, head spinning while looking down at your suitcase already half filled with your clothes. you consider opening up another beer when you felt the air shift around you.

a bored expression paints your expression, taking yet another sip from your beer when jinwoo appears behind you.

"sarang, are you alright?"

you don't respond to his term of endearment for you, choosing instead to turn your back to him as you finished the rest of your beer. already able to picture jinwoo's concerned expression as he steps closer to you, he calls out your name, ready to reach out to you when you face him and slap his hand away from you.

you refused to let the pained expression on his face fill you with guilt. "sarang-"

"don't fucking call me that!" you snarl back at him, tossing the empty can of beer to the side, not caring that it landed against the pristine floor of the bedroom. since jinwoo came home anyways, you figured you could do with just half of your clothes.

as you zip up the suitcase, you were ready to head out when jinwoo steps in front of you, preventing you from leaving. confusion was written all over his face, and he kept shaking his head at you, "what is all this? if something is wrong, or if i have done something to upset you, then you need to tell me instead of storming out."

feeling the effects of the alcohol giving you the much needed liquid courage, you let out a boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you struggled to calm down, hands clutching at your abdomen as you ignored the tears streaming down your face.

"it's not you, it's never your fault, jinwoo. no, it's always been me that was the problem."

taking advantage of your strength as an s-rank, you shoved jinwoo aside, and due to him being so caught off guard, he moves away with little resistance.

letting out a string of whispered curses, you were close to reaching the front door when jinwoo warps in front of you once more, blocking your escape. his eyes were glowing purple now, "what is going on with you-"

by now, your emotions were at a boiling point, making you shove at jinwoo's chest as his back lands against the door. hurt and anger was seen against his glowing eyes when he takes a hold of your hands, forcing you back into the apartment.

you struggle against him, trying to free your hands from his tight grip, but to no avail. jinwoo continues to gain up on you, making you step backwards as you felt the back of your legs get caught on the couch.

you land against the cushions with an audible gasp, jinwoo hovering over you as he kept you trapped against his body and the couch. your eyes weakly shone with hatred for him, but deep down, you knew you could never hate him-

you just hated the thought of losing him-

and that was enough to leave you crying, your emotions no longer able to be contained. your sobs were painful, wracking through the entirety of your form, making jinwoo's gaze soften considerably for you.

as you wallowed in your tears, jinwoo takes this chance to hold you in his embrace, using his free hand to roll your suitcase back into your shared bedroom. once jinwoo places the suitcase against the wall, he continues to let out soft coos of your name, pressing comforting kisses against your hair as he got into bed with you.

both of your forms lay down against the plush mattress, and as jinwoo kept pressing soft kisses against your skin was when your tears begin to slow. unable to help yourself, you clutch to the front of his shirt, knowing that you had to tell him the truth-

that jinwoo deserved to know the truth.

"i've been living a lie for most of my adult life."

you notice the way jinwoo stiffens in response to your words, yet still, he remains quiet, allowing you to continue.

"my childhood... and well, how i grew up in general wasn't pretty. my mom outright stated how much she despised me, a-and, i never was loved by her."

the memory of her disdain and neglect was enough to send a fresh wave of tears, but you pushed through the painful memories to continue your confession to jinwoo.

"that's why, when i was able to awaken as a hunter, i decided to never reveal my true self. i had to be a monster if my own mother couldn't love me for who i was. t-that's why, i figured it was easy to capture everyone's attention with a honey sweet personality-

but that's just not who i am... i never was overly positive with a heart of gold. i've got sharp edges around my heart, like glass from years spent feeling like i was nothing because of my mother, and i just- i can't do it anymore.

that's why you deserve someone who is truly bright and sunny... someone who isn't fake like me, someone-"

yet you weren't given the chance to finish your statement when jinwoo takes a hold of your chin, keeping it still when he presses a searing kiss against your lips. such an affectionate and intimate touch was enough to make your breath hitch in response as you automatically kissed him back.

jinwoo smiles against your lips for a brief second before pulling away from you. he frames at your face with two hands, using the pad of his thumb to caress at your features while telling you, "how could i ever think of abandoning such a pure heart like yours? and your mother truly was foolish, never realizing just how perfect and loving you were. she never deserved you, sarang, not the other way around."

his words make your eyes widen in response, "w-what?"

yet your boyfriend simply hums, holding you even closer to him as he allows your head to rest against his chest while kissing your hair, "i'm sorry, as your lover- as the man who loves you more than anything else in the world, i'm sorry for never realizing your pain.

from now on, you don't have to worry about your persona anymore. you don't need to be anything but you, my love... and i promise to accept you wholeheartedly... unconditionally."

your mind was spinning. was this really happening? was the man you had come to love really willing to accept you for who you are?

with eyes quickly filling with tears, you bury your face even deeper within his chest, "you won't hate me when i'm not smiling all the time?"

"nope."

"and... you won't get mad when i voice my anxieties and cry a bit...?"

"never." jinwoo reassures you with yet another whisper, pressing a kiss against your temple when he tells you, "from this moment on, you never have to hide your true self... for i already know that i'll love you regardless... you're my entire universe, and i can't see myself ever leaving you when you are all that i've ever wanted."

being filled with emotion, you allow your tears to freely fall, calling out jinwoo's name in a loving manner as you lean up to press a kiss against his awaiting lips, heart no longer surrounded by glass as you felt it slowly beginning to open up before pounding for the man that held you so lovingly within his embrace...

a.n. - this story was a long time coming, since it was a challenge for me to write. yet still, i hope you readers enjoyed this. and please, do listen to 'saturn' by sza. it is such a gorgeous song, and sza's vocals sound so airy and dreamy 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #.stories

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lacedinweb22 · 1 year ago

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Seven Minutes in Heaven ♱☽🦇☾♱

Miguel O'Hara x reader ♱ (A Halloween special) Vampire Next Door (ch.7) prev part nsfw 18+

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

There’s a knock at your door. You fix your hair in the mirror then rush to leave.

There he is,

dressed up as a vampire.

He’s wearing a beautiful vintage, tailored suit. His waves are tamed back. He has a bit of fake blood dripping from his bottom lip to his jaw then down to his neck. He really committed to the part.

You discussed costume ideas a few days before the party. You came up with the idea of dressing up as gothic style vampires; you’d been watching vampire romances all week, though you left that part out. Miguel was hesitant at first, said it would be too flashy, but after you showed him your pinterest board, and some whining and convincing, he agreed.

You’ve got the look down: a long, black vintage dress, fake blood around your lips, chin, and down your arms, jewelry adorning your collarbones, and fangs you’ve glued onto your canines.

Your dress hugs you in all the right places. Your bust is bursting, practically spilling out of the bodice. It accentuates your curves, tightly hugging your waist and hips. You look and you feel the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

Seeing Miguel like this, at your door, makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. You never thought he’d see you like this, so grown up, blossomed, and beautiful. And you never thought you’d see him like this.

Your eyes meet, then part, as they explore each other’s figures. He quickly looks back up, keeping a straight face, like he didn’t just gulp at the sight of your curves.

“This hot vamp look really suits you.”

“Hot?”

He furrows his brows and smiles, exposing his fangs, as he slides a hand over his waves.

“Wait, your fangs… I’m impressed.”

“A vampire needs a good pair of fangs. I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m learning that…” you mutter looking him up and down.

****

Miguel introduces you to your floor neighbors, in a way that makes you feel like you're his. You look like you belong to each other, but you push those thoughts away. He was kind enough to welcome you and introduce you to his friends. You’re neighbors. Friendly neighbors.

Your neighbors welcome you, you have multiple small-talk conversations, and most of them ask how you know Miguel. You both say you’re neighbors who’ve just met a few days ago. You’re both liars.

Alicia, the host of the party, calls him out for not attending more of their get-togethers, and he promises he’ll come out more often, as he turns to look at you.

You all start the night off with one shot of tequila then disperse through her apartment.

You and Alicia click, as Miguel stands by sipping at a mixed something, listening, and secretly laughing at your tangents.

After a bit, you both end up alone at the kitchen counter.

“I think I want to drink a lot tonight. I need it.”

He nods slowly, trying to read your face as he sips his drink.

“If that’s what you want, okay. I’ll drink with you.”

He pours you another shot. You cheers then both down it. You wince at the aftertaste, then look up at an unfazed Miguel.

The music progressively gets louder as the apartment becomes more full. You move to the rhythm, barely dancing, not drunk enough to let him witness it. Miguel smiles, sipping at his drink, leaning against the counter.

“You know what? You’re like four times my size. You’re going to need to drink four times what I drink to feel anything,” you slur, clinging onto his wrist for balance.

“Mhmm, okay,” he chuckles, looking down at your hand on his wrist. You’re too tipsy to pull away. His warm skin feels too good, you feel glued to him. He smiles, pouring two more shots into a red cup.

He drinks, lifting his chin up, his jawline advertised as he swallows the hard liquor.

“It’s been thirty minutes. I want another.” You slide your shot glass to him.

He grabs the liter of strawberry soda on the counter and starts to pour it into a red cup.

“This should help with the taste.”

He adds a shot into the soda.

“So kind, such a gentleman,” you slur, taking the drink from his hand.

“Truth or dare!” one of your neighbors yell. Everyone gathers, drunk and stumbling to sit on the floor and on the couch, forming a circle in the living room.

After half of the circle takes their turn, it’s your turn.

“Truth or dare,” Alicia asks you.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Miguel,” she shrugs.

“Seven minutes– Is this fucking high school?” Miguel mutters rolling his eyes.

“Okay, Y/N, sorry. You’re going to have to take another shot.”

You’re fucked up. Another shot is going to destroy you.

“Shut up, okay? Mierda. Come on, Y/N,” he mutters as he stands up. He reaches both hands down to you, then helps you up. You stumble, as he grabs your hand and leads you to the closet down the hallway.

You both enter the closet; Miguel leaves the door open a crack, allowing the purple light to illuminate the side of his face. The speakers begin to blast music again in the living room. It bleeds into the dark closet.

You laugh at how drunk you are, and at the situation, then look up at Miguel. His concern is obvious, but it fades a bit when your eyes meet.

“I was too sober to say it earlier, but you look… divine,” he confesses.

“Wow, that’s… you can’t do that to me. Not now,” you laugh, looking down, shaking your head. You avoid eye contact.

You’ve dreamt about moments like this since university. About being this close to him, about him saying romantic things like this, but you’re drunk, and you don’t believe him.

“I mean it,” he adds, leaning down to catch your eyes.

“You look really good too. So handsome,” you breathe out. You cover your eyes. That took a lot.

“Yeah? You think I’m handsome?” he asks, drawing closer.

He gently pulls your hands off of your face.

You look up at him.

His cheeks are pink, flushed from the alcohol, his hair is less tame than it was when you got here, and his crimson eyes are radiant, even in the dark.

“Miguel,” you exhale.

“Y/N,” he says, smoothly, deep, pretty on his tongue.

You grasp onto his suit jacket, pulling him into you.

He strokes your cheek, then combs his fingers through your hair, pushing it out of your face.

You stare into each other’s eyes, then his eyes wander down to your lips.

You tilt your face up and he leans down.

You kiss.

It’s heated, drunk, wet, and addictive.

It intensifies as he slowly presses you up against the wall, your lips still glued to each other.

His lips detach, his kisses trailing down to your neck.

“Y/N,” he breathes against your skin.

“I know you remember me,” he mutters into your neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“English 150A. I know you remember.”

“I didn’t realize you did.”

“You’re hard to forget.”

You pull him back in for a kiss, shutting him up. It’s drunk and passionate. Your cheeks burn hot.

His fangs are razor-sharp; you’re too drunk to realize when they cause you pain.

You pull away, then reach your hand up to his lips.

“Can I?”

He obeys, looking down at you with drowsy eyes.

You stroke his fangs. They’re hyper realistic. If you applied a bit more pressure, they would puncture the tip of your finger.

“Why are they so sharp? Mine aren’t that sharp. Where did you get them?”

“Doesn’t matter. They were expensive though,” he shrugs, allowing you to continue touching his lips with your thumb.

“Miguel, these could actually cut me.”

You reach back to his fangs, before he gently pulls your hand away.

“Here, I’ll do it,”

He grazes his own fingertip on his fang, drawing blood.

“Miguel, stop,” you squeal, yanking his hand away from his mouth.

He laughs, showing you the blood. He’s too drunk to read the concern on your face and you’re too drunk to realize it’s not that serious.

“It’s like a paper cut, Y/N,” he reasons, sucking the blood off his finger.

“You’re annoying. I’m not staying here and entertaining this.” You reach for the closet door. He grabs your wrist. You turn to look up at him.

“Come on, Boots, I was just showing you,”

“What? What did you just call me?”

“Boots. You wore those red rain boots that week of the storm. I thought they were cute, and it just stuck with me,” he says, shrugging it off.

“You really do remember me. Okay, we’re doing this… wait, you’re a science boy, what were you doing TA-ing for an English course?”

“Hm yeah, it was a favor for Professor Reyes,”

“Favor for what?”

“I’m too drunk to talk about this right now,” he groans, throwing his head back.

“Okay,” you nod, leaning only your back against the wall.

He looks up at you, then slowly approaches you.

“We still have like four minutes left,” you sigh.

“Four minutes. I can work with that,” he smirks, towering over you.

Then he’s kissing you, hands on your waist, holding you against his body. Again, he’s pressing you up against the wall.

His leg is in between your legs, as you lean back.

You squeeze his tricep, encouraging the pressure he’s applying all over you.

“You’re so warm, and god, you’re so beautiful,” he grumbles into your lips.

You feel it, something pressing into your thigh, against your dress.

The butterflies in your stomach intensify. You feel hot all over. You’re drunk and you want him and he’s right here and he wants you too.

“I want you,” you moan into his mouth.

“Yeah?” he whispers, trailing his lips down to your neck, sucking gently.

“Harder,” you encourage, enjoying yourself a little too much.

You comb your fingers through his hair, gripping tightly.

He squeezes your thigh, holding you tight against his leg.

He sucks harder; you feel his fangs brush against your skin.

You moan, pulling his hips into yours. He grips your waist tighter. If you weren’t wearing this dress, his fingerprints would be bruised into you. He hangs his head on your shoulder, quietly moaning into your skin, before bruising you again.

He restrains himself.

“Now bite me,”

He pulls his face from your neck.

“Y/N,” he says, head tilted, face drowsy, hair tousled.

“It’s gonna hurt,” he shakes his head, his eyes glued to your lips.

You pull him down for a kiss.

The music stops.

“Seven minutes up!” they yell, clapping.

You pull away from each other. You try to catch your breath.

You fix your hair, bring it forward to cover your neck, wipe around your lips, and look up at Miguel, who’s brushing his hair back and straightening out his suit.

You walk out of the closet and join the circle once again.

“How were the seven minutes? How was the sex?” they tease.

“We just talked,” you slur, shrugging, suppressing your smile.

“Miguel?” they press on.

“We just talked. You heard her,” he defends, eyebrows furrowed at their doubt.

They move on to their next victim.

You turn to each other. Your eyes meet then break.

The night goes on.

⋆♱✮☽🎃☾✮♰⋆

Happy Halloween 🧛🏼‍♀️

-G ⋆୨୧˚

ch.8 here

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drconstellation · 1 year ago

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The Ineffable Ducks

What's with all the ducks in Good Omens that Crowley seems to be inordinately fond of? Turns out, they do have a narrative purpose, they're not just in there as a running joke about Crowley's fondness for the animals of Earth.

They appear in both S1 and S2, and get mentioned in several seemingly random places. Like, really random. There are quite a few in St James Park, where the ducks live, where the international spies also clandestinely meet, where Aziraphale and Crowley meet on several occasions, and where Crowley and Shax have a meeting, exchanging information in S2E1.

Ducks also get referred to here, when Aziraphale suggests they use humans to search and spy out the missing Antichrist, but Crowley insists it will be near impossible because suspicion slides off the boy like water off, what ever water slides off, because he has an automatic defense system.

The he remembers the ducks(!) later in the Bentley when they discuss using their respective networks of highly trained human operatives (Shadwell and the Witchfinder army), and Aziraphale asks if Crowley has a better idea than his. "Ducks!" Crowley suddenly utters.

The ducks that are always there, that you see but don't see, gathering bread crumbs, when any kind of surveillance or secret spy work is being discussed.

Nah, I thought, it couldn't be a sly ref to this famous cartoon by Larson, could it?

Aziraphale and Crowley are always afraid that someone is watching, or listening to everything they do, from both sides. I mean isn't that partly why we got the ending we did in S2, because they have had to be so covert with their communication to each over the centuries they've forgotten how to speak plainly to each other?

Heaven has definitely been watching...

And Hell certainly noticed Crowley's act of kindness in the Edinburgh cemetery, swiftly summoning him to Hell for punishment after his kind deed on behalf of Elspeth.

Then when the duo meet in again 1867 Crowley wonders if "ducks have ears" before declaring they must do - that's how they hear other ducks. So its no surprise that when Crowley asks Aziraphale for holy water that he writes the request on a piece of paper to hide it from those invisible ever-present watchers they know are never far away.

When we come to the start of S2, where Crowley is slouched in St James Park once more, reading the Tadfield Advertiser, and yelling at the Azerbaijani secret agents for feeding the ducks bread. Crumbs, it was alright to do this in the book, and S1, why is wrong now? Has Crowley suddenly become woke and caring for the ducks? Nah.

There's a lot more to it than that. I realized this is the missing Grain offering from my post about altar offerings (see The Altar of Eccles Cakes) in S2. A Grain offering represents a voluntary expression of devotion to God - or the other side you're supposed to be aligned with, in this case.

Shax is part of this scene, discussing the latest news from below, and she mentions some special intel that Hell has received, from their own secret squirrel network. Of course they would meet in St James Park to discuss this, along with all the other spies. While Shax tries to get some intel out of Crowley about what might be going on in Heaven, because she knows he has contact with a certain angel who owns a book shop, Crowley responds by refusing to show any devotion to his former side at this point, and isn't going to give any information away that could be useful. He also doesn't have any intel at this point, anyway, but he's not going to give that away either! Heaven and Hell are toxic, and no one should be going anywhere near them, in his opinion. So stop feeding them that devotional bread!

After Shax asks what they should be feeding the ducks, he eventually says "Frozen Peas. It's good for them, they like it."

The short period of "peas" since they stopped the impending Apocalypse has been enjoyable, and good for Crowley and Aziraphale, but the forced meeting with Beelzebub later that day soon jolts Crowley out of any complacency when they indicate that the "generalized understanding" Crowley thought they had with Heaven and Hell after the body swap to leave them alone, the one Aziraphale-as-Crowley negotiated, while asking for a rubber duck, no less, was looking very shaky and fragile indeed.

And one more random duck ref to discuss.

I was inspired to write this section by lalalunamoth's post calling Muriel a duckling imprinted on Crowley, and of course I did not save it, did I, and a search does not bring it back up again (found it!), so if you're reading this, or know that post, please let me know! I read it, and thought, cute, but nah, then realized that Muriel was sent on a surveillance mission to Whickber St to ascertain the truth of Aziraphale's 25 lazurii miracle. And she did act as the eyes of Heaven, writing up some reports, called Crowley "grice," then followed him around during his escapade in Heaven just like a duckling following a grumpy gander drake while he did his own surveillance measures in a Tactical Turtle neck, channeling his best imitation Sean Connery voice (have you noticed that as well, people?)

No, no, the op wasn't wrong - those big cross ducks, er grice geese, they make good guard dogs, no?

With special mention to Crowley acting as a surveillance duck just prior to this, and Mr Brown doing his own "spying out" of Aziraphale.

To finish this meta, there is one other figure who notably offered the ducks bread, in the book. This passage, which is surely relevant to S3, but didn't appear in S1, shows another character still devoted to God in a way. Lets give Death the final word:

Crowley: "Maybe it's it's all part of a great ineffable plan. All of it. You, me, him, everything. Some great big test to see if what you've built all works properly, eh? You start thinking: it can't be a great cosmic game of chess, it has to be just very complicated Solitaire. And don't bother to answer. if we could understand, we wouldn't be us. Because it's all - all - "

INEFFABLE, said the figure feeding the ducks.

"Yeah. Right. Thanks."

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losers-clvb · 25 days ago

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woman of letters pt. 10 // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x man of letters!female!reader

summary: sam and dean discover the bunker of the men of letters. expecting it to be empty, they get quite the shock when they meet you.

content: swearing, angst

word count: 3.4k

note: read on wattpad here. read on ao3 here. if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

taglist: @bettystonewell @kaz-2y5-spn @never-here1992 @thestoriesfold @mostlymarvelgirl @dyhsversion @deans-baby-momma @bitchykittenconnoisseur @ladykitana90

masterlist series masterlist previous part next part

----

“She’s under the impression you’re in Minnesota.” Castiel grumbled out. There he was again, in another diner, sitting in front of Dean. Dean nodded at the information, happy that he wouldn’t be found. He was a little suspicious though. All the times Castiel had come to warn him, you had his correct location. This time, he was in Louisiana and you thought he was across the country.

“You’re sure?” Dean asked, picking up a piece of bacon. Castiel nodded. That was what you had said. Minnesota. He could only assume that was where you were headed now. Dean accepted this. If it was what you had said, it must be true.

“How is she?” Dean asked his usual question. You were on his mind always. When he was able to sleep, he dreamt of you. You laughing, you kissing him, you with a little boy that had his eyes and your chin. Thoughts of you plagued him. Everywhere he looked, you were there. There in the wind, there in the books in the bookstores, there in the snarky banter he overheard from couples. All he wanted to do was see you again, smell you, feel your warmth.

But he always stopped himself. He couldn’t be that selfish. He had to keep you safe and the best way to do that was to stay far away.

“Angry, mostly. She and Sam are always fighting. Over you, over the situation.” Castiel answered. Dean sighed. He figured as much. You wouldn’t let him go, and he didn’t know why. Maybe the demon had been right when it had said you loved him, but he didn’t think so. He wasn’t someone that people could easily love. He was stubborn and sarcastic and didn’t know how to voice his emotions. These things he knew, but he couldn’t change them, not easily anyway.

“She’ll get over it.” Dean amended, taking a bite out of his bacon. You would have to. There was no other way.

“I’m not so sure.” Castiel mumbled before the flap of wings announced his departure. Dean was left alone, with no one to joke with, no one to hurt. Just what he wanted, but he didn’t realize the loneliness would carve so deep.

----

The next day arrived in a hazy morning light. You and Sam had been driving through the night, switching off halfway through the journey. You drove in silence as Sam dozed off in the passenger seat. No music played, you barely even breathed. If Dean wasn’t in this town when you got there, you would bring Heaven and Hell down to find him. You were angry before, but now you were utterly pissed.

Dean dared to leave you. He dared to stay hidden for all this time. He dared to have some angel play as your babysitter.

He didn’t get to do this to you. He didn’t get to run away and hide like a child. You were certain you would never give him the chance to hurt you like this again.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you blinked to stay awake. While Sam had opted to take a nap in his off time, you didn’t have the same thought. You had stayed awake, had been awake for around seventeen hours now. You were exhausted, but you couldn’t sleep, at least, not yet.

You turned down a road, past the motel where traffic cameras had caught Dean at. The Impala wasn’t there, so you assumed that meant he wasn’t either. You brushed that off. It was morning, he was probably awake by now. You pushed the gas pedal down, speeding up while driving around town.

Finally, you spotted a sign advertising a diner. Perfect. Dean Winchester loved diners, and you knew he would be hungry. He was always hungry. The thought sent a pang through your heart. You didn’t want to remember things like that. You didn’t want to know how his breath sounded while he slept. You didn’t want to know his favorite food or the way he looked when he was confused. You didn’t want to know because it meant that you cared. And if you cared it meant that Dean could still hurt you.

The diner wasn’t anything special. You had seen a million of them by that point, every town had one. The siding was slightly dirty, the paint chipping away on the wooden bench that sat just outside the door. No, it wasn’t special in itself, but the black Impala parked outside made it look like nothing you had ever seen before.

You pulled into the parking lot, opting for a spot just off to the side. You didn’t need Dean to spot you and make a run for it. You turned the car off before nudging Sam softly on the shoulder. He awoke slowly, blinking away his sleep.

“Is he here?” Sam asked, voice gravelly. He glanced around, searching his surroundings for any clue as to where he was. He was hoping, praying even, that Dean was here. He missed his brother.

“Yes.” You spoke, breathing out the word. You were preparing yourself for when you would go in, for when you would see Dean. Sam watched you, running a hand through his hair to make himself look presentable.

“I can go in and get him.” Sam offered. You turned your head to look at him, eyes full of appreciation. You nodded quickly, looking back to the side of the building you were staring at. Sam nodded back, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

You watched Sam walk across the cement, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He disappeared inside the diner and you could hear the muffled tingle of the bell announcing his arrival. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking over what was going to happen.

You stay here, Dean maybe listens to Sam and follows the two of you back to the bunker. Or, you stay here, Dean doesn’t listen to Sam and sneaks away again, leaving you to look for him again. Or, the option you ended up choosing, you go in to control the situation.

While you were weighing your options, Sam was sliding into the booth seat opposite of Dean. The older Winchester had an almost empty plate in front of him, the syrup coating the plate telling Sam that his brother had pancakes. Dean looked up in alarm, wondering who would have dared to bother him. His face fell when he saw Sam. No. Why was he here? How was he here?

“Sammy, how-?” Dean started, but the way Sam’s eyes drifted to look over his shoulder caught his attention. He turned around, craning his neck to see you. You. His girl. It made his heart drop to his stomach. You were standing by the door, hands in the pockets of your jacket in order to keep yourself from reaching for him. Your face was stony, not quite enraged but also not completely happy to see him.

What he didn’t see was the relief you felt. You had finally found him.

“It’s over, man.” Sam said, breaking Dean’s attention from you. He turned back to Sam and it was like he was seeing him for the first time that day. Sam looked exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, just like you did. His skin was paler than it had been the last time he saw him. “It’s time to come home.”

The way you two looked broke Dean’s heart. He had known that you and Sam wouldn’t have been happy with his leaving, but he didn’t think it would affect you this much. He let out a breath of defeat, nodding. He knew it was over. He would have to come back home, or else you would never stop looking for him. He would have to find a different way to keep you safe.

----

You hadn’t spoken to him yet. It had been thirteen hours of driving and thirteen hours of silence. You had insisted, while very obviously ignoring Dean, on riding along with him. It wasn’t because you wanted to be near him. No. It was because you were worried Dean would take the drive as an opportunity to run again. So, here he was, driving back to the bunker while you stared out the window.

Dean mumbled your name, just loud enough for you to hear. You flinched at the sound but didn’t look to him. He would have thought you were sleeping if he couldn’t have seen your eyes in the reflection of the window.

“I’m sorry.” Dean spoke. You didn’t move. He sighed in frustration. You had devoted all your time, your entire attention, to finding him. Now that you had him, you wouldn’t even look at him? Really?

“Just look at me.” Dean’s voice was a little louder this time. You didn’t move. You didn’t even seem to be hearing him. Dean rolled his eyes, watching the road.

“You can’t just ignore me.” Dean tried again. You didn’t move. This was ridiculous. He expected you to be angry, but he assumed that would have meant yelling and hitting, not whatever this was.

Dean gritted his teeth together and yanked the steering wheel to the side, pulling the car off the road aggressively. Finally, you moved. You made a noise of surprise and grabbed at anything to keep your body from slamming into the dash. Dean shoved the shifter into park and turned to you, face hard. You looked back at him like he was insane. Who the hell does something like that?

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You shouted at him, balling your hands into fists. Dean scoffed. Really, that was all it took?

“So what, you’re talking to me now?” Dean seethed out. You scoffed now, crossing your arms together.

“Only because you’re acting like a madman!”

“You wouldn’t talk to me!” Dean braced himself, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the seat next to him. You watched him, sure your face was flushed with anger. You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or kill him, but you figured either option wouldn’t be very wise.

“You left me! You! I woke up and you…” you breathed in to steady yourself, “you were gone. I didn’t know where you went, why you went!” You were heaving out the words now. Dean didn’t want this. He just wanted you to be safe, but you wouldn’t see that. You couldn’t see it.

“I left to protect you! Do you know how many freakin’ monsters follow me everywhere I go? I’m public enemy number one in the monster world, and if they can’t get me, they go for you!” Dean shouted back. You were seeing red. How had he turned this into your fault?

“Protect me? That’s what you called that little stunt? I was unconscious after a demon attack, but yeah, that makes sense! Just admit that you made a mistake!” You were pushing back, breathing heavily.

“It wasn’t a mistake if it kept you safe! Do you think I wanted to leave you? Huh?” Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows to further make his point. You glared at him.

“You could have kept me safe yourself!” You yelled, gesturing with your hands. Dean nodded sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, remember what you said: everyone around me dies.” Dean grumbled. It was a weak argument and you both knew it.

“It was a fucking demon, Dean! I didn’t say it!” You argued back, jabbing your fingers into your chest to gesture to yourself.

“Your mouth said it!” Dean yelled. It was true. Whenever he looked back on the whole interaction with the demon, he couldn’t get it out of his head. The demon had known exactly what to say to hurt him and make it stick.

“My mouth also said that I loved you, but you seem to forget that part!” You shouted at him, throwing your hands up. Dean remembered this, remembered thinking it couldn’t be true.

“Do you love me?” Dean blurted out. His question didn’t soften his voice, it was born out of pure exasperation. There wasn’t any way you could love him.

“Yes, Dean, I do love you! I really do!” The confession tumbled out before you could stop it. Unlike the movies, it didn’t stop your argument. It only seemed to egg it on.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean shouted. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t handle this feeling. Why did it hurt so bad to learn that you loved him?

“Would it have stopped you from leaving?” You asked, tone frustrated. That seemed to shut him up. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because the truth was, no, it wouldn’t have stopped him. It would have only made him run that much more. Dean swallowed down all of that, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

“That’s what I thought.” You said. Your voice was calm, like the waves of anger you had felt settled down into a small lake of something else. You turned away from Dean, looking back at the window. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn’t see the light trickle of tears rolling down your cheeks.

Dean did see them. Of course he saw them. It was just another thing to make him hate himself. He stopped himself from reaching out to comfort you, fingertips buzzing with the need, by shifting the car into drive. Back on the road, he tried to ignore the miniscule sobs that escaped from you, muffled by the collar of your jacket.

You tried not to cry, you really did. You had done a great job of it so far, never letting a tear fall while searching for Dean. But you had him back now. Here he was, sitting next to you, and he had just told you your love wasn’t enough to make him stay. You had figured that much, but hearing him say it out loud seemed to make something break inside you. You weren’t enough for him.

----

The moment Dean pulled into the garage of the bunker, you pushed out of the car. You beelined it straight for your room, slamming the door behind you. Dean was getting some sick sense of deja vu to the first time he had kissed you. The way you ran from him then was almost identical to how you ran then. Both times it was his fault.

You could hear Dean’s boots against the stone floor as he walked past your room to his own. You wished you could stop yourself from crying, but once the first tears came, the rest followed. You weren’t completely falling apart, not yet, but it was still something you weren’t used to. When your parents had died, you hadn’t really known what was happening, and once you did, you only felt peace with the situation. When your grandfather died, you understood the finality of it and accepted it. But this, this you didn’t want to accept. You didn’t want to accept that you -- your love -- hadn’t been enough.

You let your pillows take the brunt of the tears, using them to muffle your cries. You ignored it when someone knocked on your door. They walked away after a second knock, so you could only assume it was Sam. Dean would have invited himself in.

That reminded you. Dean had never said he loved you back. Which meant he didn’t love you back. You felt like your whole body was getting ripped in two. Was this heartbreak? The unrequited love that all those characters had felt? No wonder depression was a common side effect from breakups. This was horrible. The worst thing you had ever felt, worse than a demon invading your body.

You tried to sleep, you really did, but every time you heard the smallest of noises outside of your room, you w0uld peek your head out to make sure Dean wasn’t leaving again. By the fifth noise, you had began to pace in front of his room, contemplating if you should check on him. Was he there, or had he silently slid past your room?

You decided to risk it. Even if he hadn’t left, he should be sleeping by now. You stealthily twisted the doorknob, opening the door just enough to see Dean’s face staring back at you through the crack. You gasped and yanked the door shut. He didn’t confront you about it, but now you were left in the hallway alone.

You did notice the way your anxiety lessened when you had seen him there. You just needed to see him, make sure he wasn’t gone. When you opened the door again, it was against your own will. Something else was controlling your movements entirely.

There he was again, staring at you. His eyes were soft. If you hadn’t known any better you would have thought he was crying too. That couldn’t be right, though, because what did he have to cry about?

This time instead of closing the door, you were stuck to your spot. It was a strange picture, you and Dean staring each other down, you in the hall, him in his bed. You didn��t want to leave, didn’t want to take your eyes off of him.

Fortunately for you, Dean didn’t want that either. He wanted you right where he could see you, right where he could touch you. You loved him. That was all that mattered. Though he supposed you were probably loving him a little less right now. Nevermind that, he offered you a half-hearted smile and cleared his throat.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna come in?” He asked, trying his best not to sound angry. You blinked at him, still unmoving. Could you really go in?

You decided, yes, you could go in. You just wouldn’t go into his bed. It wasn’t fair to either of you since -- as far as you knew -- he didn’t love you back. You settled into the chair that was stationed at his desk, back straight as you faced him. You were leaned up against the wall. Dean frowned.

“Are you gonna sleep there?” Dean asked, knowing there was no way it was comfortable. You nodded.

“Just come over here.” Dean sighed out, patting a hand on the spot next to him. You couldn’t lie, it was enticing. The soft blankets, the plush of the mattress, the heat from Dean, but you couldn’t. It would only make things more complicated.

“I’m fine.” You mumbled and Dean knew it would be the end of that. You kept your eyes on him for as long as you could, but eventually your eyelids grew far too heavy. You hadn’t slept longer than a few hours in months. The relief of having Dean back outweighed the pain of everything he had said.

Dean hadn’t been sleeping. He had tried, but the thought of you sat up in that old wooden chair made him hurt. He hated himself for leaving. Nothing good had come from it. He didn’t regret the reasons for why he had left, but it had only pushed you away from him. The soft snores coming from you alerted him to the fact that you were sleeping. Good. Now it didn’t matter how stubborn you were going to be.

Dean pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over to you. He paused when you stirred, but continued on after you had stayed asleep. He crouched down to pick you up in his arms, mind flashing to when he had carried you to the infirmary after your attack. He shook the image off and focused instead on the way you relaxed in his arms.

Dean placed you on his bed and tucked you into the blankets before sliding in beside you. He stopped himself from cuddling into you. He knew he had a lot of work to do before he could do something like that again, knew he had to learn to forget the demon’s words in your voice.

Instead he fell asleep on his side, watching the way you curled into yourself, the way your nose twitched while you slept. He was going to get you back, on way or the other. You were his girl, afterall.

#x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #supernatural x reader #spn #supernatural #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader angst #dean winchester x man of letters!reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester x you #woman of letters - losers-clvb

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glorismorningstar · 1 year ago

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THE LION CHRONICLES

Pairings: girlfriend!Lute x f!reader, fatherfigure!Alastor x f!reader, Charlie x overprotective!Vaggie + f!bodyguard!reader, situationship!Carmilla Carmine x f!reader

Summary: Charlie is asked to attend a meeting with Heaven, and Vaggie asks Y/N to keep an eye on her. Begrudgingly, she agrees, but not without taking the necessary precautions. A dreaded yet hoped-for encounter occurs, which triggers unforgettable memories.

Warnings: daddy issues, canon-typical violence, Adam being Adam, brief lesbian smut, fluff, angst, grief, sadness, mentions of sex, WLW

A/N: I'm fully aware that the trailer was a major flop, but this story is purely self indulgent and has been in my head for so long that I need to get it out :)

| OPENING // PART 1 // PART 2 |

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS LATER…

“So, what do you think?” Alastor asked as he turned off the TV. He had just shown us the commercial he'd made for the hotel, and while Charlie and Vaggie were off-put and disappointed, I had to hold back a snort of laughter.

“That was hysterical,” I laughed, resting my elbows on top of the backrest of the couch. “May I have a copy of that?”

“Y/N!” Vaggie barked.

“Right, right!” I cleared my throat. While this was one of the most entertaining things I'd seen in a long while - since that dipshit Vox was unable to put on anything good in the seven years that Alastor was gone, or even before that - it wasn't oriented to what we wanted to do for sinners, it did not once mention redemption or our ambition to help souls checking out into Heaven.

“I'm sorry, what the fuck was that?” Vaggie snapped.

“Uh, yeah, one note… Alastor…” Charlie hesitated, trying to find the words to criticize the commercial without aggravating Alastor, whose grin hadn't wasted a beat in growing strained. “I mean, first off, thank you so much for making this, seriously amazing! But, um, maybe the tone is a bit off.”

Alastor, tilting his head a little and furrowing his brows in his own fashion of a glare, was visibly offended, expression betraying his ever-present smile. I had always found his grin curious, ever since the day he and Rosie had rescued me, I wondered about his choice to smile permanently. A smile is a powerful tool, he'd say, it keeps your friends inspired, your enemies guessing, and assures that no matter what happens, you're the one in control.

“We want people to want to come here, but this makes it look… um…” she continued, attempting to word her sentence properly.

“Bad. The word you're looking for is bad.” Vaggie completed. While Sera had taught me to be polite, her brutal honesty was refreshing.

“Funny, I was going for hilarious!” Alastor said and tilted his head to the side, neck rolling with a crack.

“Agreed, but comedy isn't the purpose of the ad.” I said with a soft tilt of my head.

“It didn't say anything about how we're trying to save demons from the extermination, which is the whole fucking point.”

“Vaggie is right, Alastor. The commercial is to let sinners know we are trying to help them.” Said Charlie.

“Well, my dear, I haven't been active in Hell for quite some time and everyone remembers me from my radio show - the proper medium to express oneself,” he said, holding his finger up for emphasis, which made me chuckle, then I laced my fingers together and rested my chin on my conjoined hands. “But you insisted on this noisy picture box advertisement! So I had a little fun with it.”

His inability - and unwillingness - to hide his thinly veiled contempt for modern technology never failed to amuse me. I was among the oldest beings in creation, only younger than very few souls, but I had grown accustomed to television, cinema and social media. His insistence on radio broadcasts and their superiority was quite humorous.

“Oh, fun? You had a little fun with it?” Vaggie said, getting up from her seat. She was about to lose her patience, and I couldn't blame her. This was an important thing, for it to work out, it was vital that it was taken seriously by everyone involved. “This is not what we want to represent us! When you showed up here a week ago, you said you would help run this hotel, instead you're mocking us! No one is gonna come to a place that a powerful Overlord like you thinks is a waste of time.”

As if on cue, a pink gloved hand raised from the couch opposite the fireplace. I sighed and tilted my head to look at him, boredly smushing my cheek against my hand. “What?”

“If'n ya filming a commercial, can I suggest you take better advantage of the talented celebrity you have right here?” Angel Dust asked, four fingers pointing at himself.

“I don't know if you can, but you most certainly may not.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation. His views on sex were the polar opposite of mine. Heavenly standards had always discouraged giving in to such temptations, but that was one among the many ways in which I had rebelled. Nevertheless, for me sex had always been a way to express strong feelings of affection rather than just a simple exchange of bodily fluids. When I lived in Heaven, Lute and I had always made love with the purpose of worshiping and pleasuring each other, while Angel did so simply for the sake of reaching the climax, which I found immature and foolish.

“Angel, you're a porn star.” Vaggie pointed out with visible dismissal of his idea.

“A famous porn star!” He corrected. “I'll have the horniest sinners knocking these walls down to get in.”

“We're not filming a porn as a commercial.” Vaggie spoke, as if it wasn't obvious enough to the effeminate man.

“Why not?”

“Where do I begin? It's disgusting, it's unrealistic, it's immoral, and it makes little to no sense, among other things.” I listed out, counting each point on my fingers while I gazed at him with a grimace.

“No sense? Sex sells, don't it?” He said, rubbing his fingertips together. “I swear, if you film me going at it with Mr. Fancy Talk Creepy Voice here, you'd be rolling in participants willing to stay at this tacky hotel.”

The simple thought made me gag. Alastor's asexuality was to be respected, for his sake and for my own peace of mind. “Ha, ha! Never going to happen!”

“Angel, I appreciate you wanting to use your… special skills to, um… attract folks to the hotel, but I really don't want to exploit you! In that way.” Charlie winced, giving a polite but awkward smile to dismiss such a notion.

“Oh, please, baby, this body was made to be exploited,” he drawled and puffed his chest, making poses to highlight his sexual desirability. “I got the arms, I got the stamina, I got the legs, I got the lung capacity, ha, ha, I got the legs! The gag reflex, the holes, the chest fluff the everyone thinks are tits-”

His narcissistic rambling was interrupted by Charlie's ringtone, which made me breathe a sigh of relief and stop tugging on my ears. As she excused herself to take the phone call, I zoned out for a minute, tail curling around my hip as the fluffy tip twitched idly. I heard her say “dad”, which drew a soft smile from me. If only Lucifer had been there to support my rebellion then, maybe things might have been a little different. I hadn't seen him in ages. We used to get along fairly well, and when I needed secret meetings to try to make peace, he was my main contact. Despite our strong friendship, I knew he'd recognize me immediately if he saw me again, so I refrained from reaching out.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard Husk once again rejecting Angel's flirting. It really was annoying.

Husk and I had met through Alastor, as the poor guy was owned by the Overlord. We had more in common than I'd thought, including our feline traits, both physical and characteristic, and a mutual annoyance with Angel Dust. I felt bad for how Alastor treated him, I always believed it was unfair, but his rage was one of the most chilling, terrifying things one could ever witness, and I wasn't stupid enough to allow myself to be the object of his frustrations. It was already a miracle he was the closest thing to a father I'd ever have.

“Vaggie! Holy shit!”

“Pah!” I yelped, ears pulling back as Charlie's outburst startled me.

“Ah! What?”

“Get over here!”

Their cute relationship made a fond chuckle fall from my lips, watching with a small smile as Vaggie walked over behind the wall to talk to Charlie.

When I heard her mention a meeting with the leader of the exorcist army, my stomach dropped to my knees. Adam.

He was almost my brother-in-law, brought into my social circle by Lute. I didn't admire him like he liked to think everyone did, but I did respect him, for Lute's sake. It was important to her that I got along with her best friend, and I couldn't deny her such a thing.

♪ I can do this, somehow I know it

I'll get Heaven behind my plans

♪ Charlie, hold on

I could hear Charlie singing. She did always have a thing for singing songs at random times, a habit that straddled the line between endearing and entertaining, and annoying and irritating.

♪ There's just no way I could blow this

Not this once in a lifetime chance

♪It's just a meeting

Ah, yes, just a meeting, I thought with a sigh. The poor girl was about to go to her first meeting with Adam of all people. It was like taking her driver's test in a bus.

♪ To change their minds, to touch their hearts

Or whatever angels have

I frowned a little at the prejudice. Angels do so have hearts. It was the hypocrisy that bugged me.

♪ This could be bad...

♪ Cheer up, Vaggie

This could be swell

Something tells me that today is gonna be a happy day in Hell

♪ Okay, but just don't sing to them

Ah, the famous last words. Charlie was already out the door before Vaggie could even finish the sentence, strutting around through Hell as if it were the land of cupcakes and rainbows.

♪ That bitch is halfway down the street

♪ Is she-?

♪ Oh, she's dancing

♪ Ugh, no!

I sighed and leaned against the door frame, tail curling as I watched the princess walking down the street. “Y/N, you should accompany her to the meeting. Say you're the bodyguard or something.”

“Ha, ha, yeah, right.” I laughed with pure sarcasm. The simple idea of being in the same room as someone with divine ordainment after almost three decades made my head spin with anxiety.

“Fine, then at least keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't run into some weirdass on the way.” Vaggie proposed. While it bordered on stalking, it was true that Charlie could be a bit too carefree, and it was the least I could do to help.

“Fine.” I groaned, pulling on the hood of my cloak, and followed her path down the street, dodging disgusting views and unpleasant sinners on the way. The fact that I'd be hearing Adam's voice after this long was nerve-wracking, to say the least. I wouldn't be speaking to him, obviously, if it were so I would have outright fainted, but being in a one mile radius of any personality from the right side of the pearly gates made my lungs constrict.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As I stood in front of the tall golden tower of Heaven's embassy, a flurry of edgy butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I inhaled deeply through my nose and slowly exhaled through my mouth, then hurried inside after Charlie before the door could close, slipping in the shadows to keep her from seeing me.

When she signed the paper and entered the meeting room, I finally relaxed and laid on one of the couches in the deserted lobby, pulling my hood down and sighing as I stared at the ceiling. I could hear Adam's boisterous laugh, muffled by the walls, and my stomach did a backflip. I buried my face in my hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to get my shit together.

“You think I'd come down there? No, I mean, I love the vibe. Totally, love your tunes. Pretty fuckin’ hardcore, don't get me wrong, but it's such a bummer, man. Everything down there is so bleugh, heh… ew.” His shenanigans never failed to make me roll my eyes. I never once agreed with him on anything, barely even on the smallest of dilemmas, like which milkshake flavor was the best. But there was an unspoken agreement between us to put up with each other's shit, motivated by our closeness with Lute.

My gaze then flickered around the room, which hadn't changed in twenty-seven years. I could remember when I'd first been here to meet with Lucifer in secret to attempt to stop the exterminations. It all felt like it was eons ago, when in reality it hadn't even been half a century, a microscopic fraction to my long life as a Seraphim.

“Adam, sir… Mr. Adam, sir-”

“Call me Dickmaster.”

A ghost of a laugh fell from my lips at the nickname. It had been so long since I'd heard him and his narcissistic ramblings about his sexual prowess. Word in Heaven and outside was that he was just as good as he purported, which I didn't find too hard to believe, as he was neither an unattractive nor an inexperienced man.

“It's the solution to our biggest problem!”

“Herpes! Yeah, that's a bitch.”

“No, our other biggest problem!”

“Oh, um… ugly people? Math? Global warming! No, wait, that's Earth's problem. When you take her out for the fifth time and she still expects you to pay the check, and you're like, hey, I thought you wanted equality!”

“No! Our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell.”

“Oh! Well, that's not a problem! We've got that covered! Lute, how many demons-”

Lute?

Lute was here?

I scrambled to the door and pressed my ear up against it, listening for any sign of her, her voice, her footsteps, her auditory mannerisms. Anything.

“Got a good 275 this year, sir.”

I rested my hand against the door and sniffed, breathing out a shaky, broken sigh as I slumped into a ball on the floor, leaning my ear against the cold surface. Hearing the ethereal sound of her voice after three decades felt like reaching an oasis after having wandered the desert, a ray of sunlight in a dark tunnel. My eyes flooded with tears as I let out silent sobs, covering my mouth with my hand as I kept listening for her voice, in desperate need of getting whatever glimpse of her I could.

I wondered what she thought of me now, so long after I disappeared with no trace. I could barely even imagine the pain she must have gone through - or was still going through - if she thought I was dead… or worse, if she thought I abandoned her. If she thought I didn't love her and Emily and Sera anymore, and decided I'd live a better life elsewhere. The thought of her hating me made me choke a sob, the hearing range too short for the emotions I wanted to show.

For fuck's sake, she was the love of my life. Why the fuck didn't I go in as the bodyguard? What was going through my head when Charlie said she'd be meeting Adam? You can't have Adam without Lute, how stupid could I have been to not think of that? I missed her face so much… her golden, intelligent eyes, her pretty little nose, her mischievous smirk, her thick, fluttering eyelashes… God, how I loved her face…

“They're not the same. They had their chance, and they earned damnation.”

I didn't even care what she was saying right now, I just needed to hear her.

“...but everyone makes mistakes.”

“Angels don't make mistakes.”

“You really think that?”

“I know that.”

I'd heard that before.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

With a last harsh suck to her clit, her thighs clamped around my head and she cried out my name, squirming and mewling as my face remained buried in the paradise between her legs. I lifted my head to meet her eyes and licked my lips clean of her sweet juices while her hand lingered on my hair, grip on my locks loosening as her chest heaved with the exertion. Giving her an affectionate smile, I shifted to get up and grab something to clean her, but she stopped me before I could do so. “Stay.”

I smiled at her and leaned my head on her thigh, planting the occasional kiss on her soft skin. “I love the way you taste.”

“You say that every time you go down on me.” She giggled, carding her fingers through my hair.

“And I'll keep saying it over and over, my love.” I smiled, resting my forehead on the soft flesh of her thigh and closing my eyes.

I heard her let out a quiet chuckle as her hand kept stroking my hair, head falling back against her pillow as she slowly regained her breath. Everything about her mesmerized me. Being with Lute felt more right than being with any man in this universe. The way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she looked, the noises she made, they all made me fall in love with her more with each encounter. My thoughts wandered to her military training and the extermination. Even putting aside the betrayal of Sera making such a decision, with the way Lute spoke about enrolling in the army, I'd never have peace of mind. Heaven was a lie, indeed. I wanted to stop it so badly, to protect Emily from such knowledge, to find a solution different from violence, to take some weight off Sera's shoulders, to save Lute's life.

I shook such thoughts out of my head and crawled up to lie flat on top of her, giving her a tender kiss on the lips and resting my forehead on hers. She wrapped her legs around my waist, locking her ankles on my lower back, and said, “What's with the frown, princess?”

I sighed and looked at the helmet on her nightstand, then back into her eyes. “Do you think it's possible to make peace with Hell?”

“What?” She asked with something between a scoff and a laugh. “Of course not. They had their chance to be good, and look at what they did instead.”

“And that was a mistake,” I conceded, tenderly brushing the hair out of her eyes. The last thing I wanted to do was make this boil over into an argument, so I kept my tone soft and gentle. “But there's no one that doesn't make mistakes.”

“Angels don't make mistakes, love.” She replied.

“Strongly disagree.” I sighed, looking to the side again with a small frown. To name a few, Sera chose to approve the extermination and put Adam, of all people, in charge. It was true that he was sort of an in-law to me, and the best that could be said of our relationship was that we had mutual respect, but he was self-absorbed, reckless and obnoxious, a testosterone-fueled wind-up soldier that marched wherever his sex-clouded brain told him to. And to think that poor Emily still believed she lived in this perfect, unbiased realm of bliss.

“Hey,” Lute cooed, taking my chin in between her fingertips and tipping it to meet her eyes. “What Sera did was for your own good. She just wants to protect you, and so do I.”

She then grabbed my cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. The gesture made me smile a bit. I knew she wanted my wellbeing, but if only there was a way to do so that wasn't so violent…

“Come on, no more pouting,” she said, nuzzling our noses together. “What do you say we cuddle a bit and tomorrow we go out for ice cream?”

“Hmm… sounds fun. Thank you.” I mumbled and trailed a few soft kisses across her shoulder, then rested my head on her chest and closed my eyes, reveling in her presence.

My gaze once again fell on her exorcist's helmet. Those rotten black horns, striped with white and curled at the tips, the × over the right eye and that ragged smile… I loathed everything about it. The fear of losing her to this was too big. I'd do whatever it took to spare her and my family from this barbarity.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The moment Adam opened the door, the color dissipated from my skin.

He was holding Charlie by the wrist - thankfully she had her back to me - and beside him was Lute.

Lute, in that familiar gray uniform and that horrible mask.

Her eyes met mine for a split second and I felt the wind being knocked out of me when she squinted and her body language shifted ever so slightly, which made me gasp and pull my hood back on, ears pulling back in fear and tail taking cover between my legs, and in the time she simply blinked, I ran away on all fours as fast as my legs could carry me, not stopping until I reached the hotel. My legs felt like they could crumble any second, my lungs screaming for breath and my throat begging for water, but I wouldn't stop until I was far away from the embassy.

˚₊‧ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As night befell the Pentagram, I laid on my bed and stared out the window in deep thought about the day's events. I opened the drawer in my nightstand and grabbed a picture, gazing at it fondly. It was me and Lute on date night, slow dancing to some cheesy love song we liked. I had an arm around her while my free hand held hers as she looked at me with heart-shaped eyes.

I wondered if she'd still look at me that way now, if she didn't hate me for disappearing without a message or note or any information on where I'd gone beforehand. A part of me didn't want to know the answer.

My phone dinged with a new notification, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Fuck.”

Hey corazón <3

21:14

You coming over tonight?

21:14

Shit, Carmilla. When my brain registered Lute's presence earlier today, everyone else was dead to me. Thankfully, I was grounded back to reality when I got back to the hotel, but I couldn't just ditch Carmilla for a person I may or may not see ever again. Then again, I couldn't abandon Lute, the woman I loved with all my heart and soul for years on end, for a mere carnal relationship.

I sighed and texted back my response,

Sorry babe, I'm not in the mood tonight :(

21:17

Good night

21:18

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel lute x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin lute #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel charlie x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel carmilla #carmilla carmine #carmilla x reader #carmilla carmine x reader #lute x reader #the lion chronicles

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dalishious · 5 months ago

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Veilguard Companion First Impressions

So, I’ve finally recruited all the companions for the Veilguard! And as such, I thought I’d share my initial thoughts on them each.

Please keep in mind that as the title says, these are just my first impressions. I am nowhere near finishing the game yet. My thoughts very well may change after getting to know the characters more as the story progresses. Also, please do not take any opinions you do not share as a personal attack against you.

Bellara

Bellara might be my #1 favourite.

I’ve seen some people just say Bellara is “a Merrill rip-off” but I don’t think that’s fair at all. If all it took was a few similarities to say a character is a rip-off of another character, than I can think of so many boring white cishet male characters who would be guilty of that. But heaven forbid we get more than one elven woman who is passionate about her people’s culture and history!

Frankly, I think Bellara is a breath of fresh air in terms of Dalish characters specifically. Finally, a Dalish elf who isn’t punished for being proudly Dalish by the narrative.

I also really appreciate that so much of her can be easily understood by her backstory, too. Like, her feelings of never being good enough is reflective of the very realistic grief she is experiencing.

Lucanis

If Bellara isn’t my #1 favourite, then Lucanis is. They really both dominate that spot neck in neck. I can’t decide if I want to put him in a jar and shake it to see what happens, or wrap him up tight in a quilt and give him some good coffee.

I’m just a sucker for Lucanis’s character archetype, is the thing. I love taking him out simply because he’s so much fun to have around. And in terms of companion arcs, his is the one I am most intrigued to see where it goes.

Taash

(While I haven’t personally gotten to Taash’s non-binary plot yet, I am aware Taash switches to they/them pronouns, so that’s what I’ll be using.)

The moment I met Taash felt my heart skip a beat. The only thing hotter than their appearance is their voice. I know BioWare probably left Taash out of a lot of the advertising because they wanted to keep Taash’s gender stuff a surprise, but oh my god, because of this I was taken by quite the surprise. And so far Taash seems to be the type to keep a hard outer shell to protect a much softer side, and that is yet another character archetype I really love.

Davrin

My initial gripe about Davrin’s writing being so exclusively about Assan rather than Davrin himself is slowly peeling away, I hope. While I still think its bullshit that you can welcome Assan into the Veilgaurd but not Davrin, at least I’ve finally gotten a few bits of dialogue to get to know more about him finally. I just want to keep this momentum! Because Davrin as a concept has so much potential, in my opinion, and what little bits I have gotten from him have captivated me. But I can’t tell yet if it’s intentionally part of his character that maybe he’s just a closed off person who takes a while to trust others, (a little like Taash?) Or if the writer just cared more about griffons than the actual guy. I’m really, really holding out hope for the former.

Emmrich

Emmrich is so much more charming than I expected, and I found him instantly endearing the moment we met him. I also really like that we’re finally hearing some different stances and insight on death and necromancy than we ever had before from a companion! It makes him feel so fresh and completely new!

Harding

I’ll be real with you: I was not anticipating caring about Harding so much. She was who I was originally least interested in, when the companion line-up was announced. But the direction they’re taking her in has me questioning so much about bigger lore questions.

Unfortunately, I still don’t see much in her except being a vessel for those bigger lore questions, though. Like, Harding as a person has me mildly curious at best.

Neve

I’m really sorry Neve fans, but I just find her really boring so far, in comparison to everyone else. She doesn’t have a lot going on, and what she does have going on, doesn’t really captivate me much. Maybe I was just hoping she’d have stronger stances on things than she does? I don’t know.

It could be that I just really fucked up with Neve, and it won’t be until another playthrough that I’ll get to experience more that will change my mind. Because I will admit I am very good at picking choices she disapproves of, with my first Rook.

#dragon age #datv #datv spoilers #meta

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radioisntdead · 9 months ago

Note

You know that trope of “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy-” so on and so forth? Well, that, but it’s actually true because reader wants to help his best and closest friends at the hotel. It can be a bit of found family fluff, and include whoever you want, you got free reign here toots.

Some examples are Angel getting more time off work because reader ‘knows a guy’, Husk getting more premium alcohol because reader ‘knows a another guy’, Nifty getting better and higher grade cleaning equipment, Charlie and Vaggie getting better advertisements, Alastor getting fresh boars and Pentious getting new parts.

When directly confronted about it, reader just gets all coy and says, “I know a guy, who knows a guy, who knows another guy, who knows a guys cousin, who knows a girls aunt, who knows-”

Good evening my dear! I had so much fun writing this! Lowkey based the reader off of Todd from Bojack horseman also my apologies for this being a little short.

Oh, I know a guy!

Hazbin hotel x reader,

Warnings: shenanigans! Mild ooc Also the ending is a little muddled because my brain stopped working because it's 3 am and I'm hungry.

In hell, pure unbridled and unchained loyalty was hard to gain, and genuine friendship was harder to find.

And someone like you, someone filled with simple kindness, someone who just did things for others expecting nothing in return was nearly impossible to find.

You accidentally befriended Sinners and hellborn alike, and that granted you with connections a ordinary sinner wouldn't have!

You found the Hazbin hotel after an incident where you were shot out of a circus canon and crashed through one of the walls, and you decided to stick around!

You get a free hotel room and there's a chance of redemption and to seeing the pearly gates of heaven? That's a pretty good deal in your book!

You gave no warning for when you'd use for connections to improve the hotel or to just make things better for your fellow hotel residents!

Husk complained about the horrible quality of alcohol?

The next day a shipment of high quality luxury alcohol came in, at first they thought it was a mistake but were assured that it wasn't, The imp who delivered it greeted you with joy as you addressed him by name and began to ask how he was, how his wife and kids were, etc etc.

You accidentally ran into Charlie and Vaggie during date night? You call up a guy and get them VIP seats for a sold out show they wanted to see.

One of Alastor's old radios break? And he's about to murder someone? You know a guy who can fix it right up, make it good as new!

Niffty's cleaning supplies are beginning to break? you make a phone call and suddenly industrial grade cleaning supplies are delivered to the hotel, She's filled with pure unbridled glee!

Angel dust is complaining about Valentino overworking him? No worries you know a guy! Valentino is shot dead the next day.

Sir Pentious needs a very specific, very outdated and extremely hard to find part for something? You know a guy who can get you one for dirt cheap!

Eventually after you had gotten the hotel a whole build board advertisment the residents came together to discuss what exactly you did to get them what you did, because as far as they knew you weren't an overlord or even threatening for that matter! Angel dust swears he saw you cry over accidentally killing a bug once!

Several theories were made, Niffty and some of the egg Bois stalked followed you for a time!

And you didn't even notice! Honestly they were concerned about that because the egg Bois weren't exactly... Discreet, several of them died.

Eventually they just decided to rip the bandaid off.

"Okay guys so, hear me out on clown dentists, I know some clowns that could be great dentists!" You said waltzing on into the hotel, to be greeted with the people you have begun to regard as your friends, and dare you say, family, circled around the lobby couch like they were preparing for an intervention.

You tilted your head confused and before you could open your mouth to say anything you were grabbed like you were being kidnapped by a slasher killer and thrown onto the couch.

"That's an idea but let's put a pin in that for now because we have a couple concerns about how exactly you get some stuff, like that build board for the hotel!" Charlie started up carefully before Vaggie continued,

"And the time you got us free tickets for that show, thanks again for that but those tickets are expensive."

You shrugged, "I know a guy who's sister's boyfriend's cousin's aunt's poodle is in the build board business, and it's no problem, if you wanna see another show just let me know and I can get you two more tickets! It's no biggie! I know a guy!"

An eyebrow was raised "For completely free? No tricks?"

"Or at a huge discount! And no tricks!" You innocently grinned,

"What about the luxury alcohol you got the bar?" A glance was given to the cat that ran said bar, who was drinking a bottle of said luxury alcohol,

"I know a guy who's married to a Alcohol maker's daughter's daughter in wrath! They have loads of extra alcohol just laying around!"

"What about the parts you got for Pentious?"

"I know a guy who's married to his brother's girlfriend's twice removed cousin's poodle's dog Walker's mother's-" "This is getting ridiculous," "gREAT GREAT GRAND MOTHER'S Chewbacca's queer icon nephew's unicorn who owns a shop."

Were you joking? Or were you complete serious? They genuinely couldn't tell.

"Ya' got the purple pimp killed, I owe ya' one and I don't care whatcha' do in your free time but it is a concerning because ya' know the other two Vees?'' Angel popped in.

"I know a guy who knows a girl who knows a Chicago deep dish pizza who knows a new York style pizza guy who knows a cannibal in cannibal town who knows Rosie's hat gremlin who knows another hat gremlin who knows about hat creature that had a vendetta against pimp grimace!"

"What the fuck."

"Don't question it! I don't mind using my connections for you guys! Your practically my family anywho!" You get up from the couch, "I'm gonna go put together a sinterest board for my dentist clown idea, bye!" You said before booking it up the stairs and into your room, leaving confusion, a very touched Charlie from being called family, questions technically answered and concern for what the fuck clown dentists were.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed this! It became a little funky with the dialogue but that's alright, Either Mob Alastor headcanons or an angst fic is coming up next so tune on in for that! As always thank you for tuning in and goodnight!

Pssssst, you should totally join our discord server

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you

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dean-winchester-is-a-warrior · 1 year ago

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Heavenly Seven

This fic will cover my Fumbling, Tickly, Giggling Sex square on my 2nd @jacklesversebingo card.

Summary: Will a silly night out turn into what Y/N has always wanted?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Sex/making out with strangers mentioned. Kissing. Brief fingering. Oral (f. receiving). Protected PinV sex. Sort of public sex (but not really). Slight overstimulation. Pining. Fluff.

Pairings: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 4,973

A/N: Here is the next request for my second @jacklesversebingo card. It's been a while since I've been able to get to one of these fantastic requests, so I apologize for the wait. This was a fun one from an anon:

I have an ask for the Fumbly, ticklely giggly sex’ square if you would be interested. I like the idea of Jensen or Dean being friends with reader and they are both dating other people. They go to maybe a sex type club as a joke when they are a bit tipsy on a night out, where you can go into separate rooms with strangers in the dark so you can’t see each other and it’s a bit like 7 minutes in heaven adult version. They set it up with their respective others to meet in a certain room but for some reason they get switched and the reader and Jensen/Dean don’t know they are in the room together and start making out and only then realise they have each other in there but take advantage of the fact that they can do it cause they have secret feelings for each other they never admitted and they do take advantage of it!!! 😜🥵 it’s fumbling in the dark and they both think the other doesn’t know but they both secretly do. Maybe their giggling gives each other away but they still go through with it. Does that make sense?

I veered a little bit away from your request lovely anon. It also has more plot that I originally planned on. Lol! But I hope it still gives you what you were looking for. ❤️

A/N 2: This is a slightly younger version of Jensen (I'm figuring somewhere around 30 and in this AU world he isn't famous yet, and he did attend college at UT. He's still an actor though. Also, as always of course, this is a multiverse, single version of Jensen and this is a complete work of fiction.

The beautiful divider below was created by @talesmaniac89

“Okay, everyone! Here are the rules!”

Jensen was talking to his new girlfriend and I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Hey, pay attention to the rules or you won't know how to play. And in this place I feel like that could get very awkward.”

Jensen smiled at me grimly. “Yeah, sorry.”

I shook my head as his latest girlfriend, Stacey, crossed her arms over her chest, definitely pouting about something.

I knew they were already having problems. They’d decided to come to this club as a way to spice up their romance. But their relationship was barely two months old. If it already needed resuscitation, I didn't really hold out much hope for it.

Jensen had begged me to come with them so he’d have someone else to commiserate with if things got too weird. I agreed and brought Ethan along which annoyed Jensen, but I mean, I was sort of dating him.

The club we were in was called 7 Minutes or More. The premise was pretty much the adult version of 7 minutes in heaven. Except instead of a closet, the club offered fully appointed rooms with king sized beds, and a mini bar for…after. If it went that far.

If you came as part of a couple you had to sign waivers saying that you were there by your own choice, and that the club wouldn’t be held responsible for any “relationship fallout” from what went down while you were there. Ethan hadn’t liked that part, but I shrugged and told him not to worry about it. I was already regretting asking him to come.

The guy running things at the club wore a neon pink feather boa and had a deep, rich voice that sounded like he belonged on the radio or maybe advertising luxury cars. He held up his hand again to try and get everyone’s attention, finally managing to quiet the hesitant participants.

“Okay, thanks everyone for coming to 7 Minutes,” he paused dramatically, “or more.” He said in a seductive kind of voice while he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. There were quite a few nervous giggles as he continued with a wide grin.

“My name is Eduardo the Extraordinary!” He said with a flourish of his boa. People laughed and he grinned. “Okay, so maybe back home in Pasedena, I’m just plain old Eddie Lakelin, but that’s boring as fuck, so…”

Everyone laughed again and I started to feel a bit more at ease.

“Now, some of you are here in couples, which, you know, good for you for venturing out of your comfort zone. And to help you along in that regard, we take steps to make sure everyone is shuffled well, and that you won’t end up with the one who brought you! If, however, something gets mixed up and you find yourself accidentally paired with your partner, please let one of our lovely ladies know,” he indicated the five or six women standing behind him, “and we’ll reshuffle your keys and give you new partners.”

All four of us exchanged looks. The friend of Stacey’s that had suggested the club had told her that when you got there you simply chose what room number you wanted, and then you were paired up with whoever else chose the same number. So our stealthy plan to stay together had been for Ethan and I to each pick number four and Jensen and Stacey were going to pick number eight.

But apparently the club went out of their way to put strangers together. I figured that really was more in keeping with the whole, 7 Minutes in Heaven theme. This changed things a bit though. We all chatted quickly, trying to decide if we were all cool with making out with some other person for seven minutes. Stacey was all for it, Jensen and I were on the fence, and Ethan was a no, full stop.

“I don’t want you making out with some other weirdo.”

“So you’re saying you’re the only weirdo she can make out with?” Jensen asked and I elbowed him again.

He’d made no secret of the fact that he couldn’t stand Ethan. He said he was whiny (which he was) and selfish (ditto) and that he didn’t deserve me. Which was very sweet, but I waved off his concerns.

“Look, I’m not saying he’s gonna be my life partner, okay? But he’s fine. Besides, it beats being alone.” I argued.

“Does it?” He’d asked and I shrugged. I didn’t add what I was thinking.

Not every guy is gonna be you, Jensen.

Jensen and I had been best friends for ten years, ever since I was a Freshman at UT and he saved me at a frat party - my very first frat party. He was a Junior, and a couple hours into the party he’d shown up at my side out of nowhere and pulled my drink out of my hand. He smiled at me and pulled me into a dance.

I was fairly drunk and pretty confused. He told me he wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but he thought the guy beside me (who I didn’t know) had slipped something into my drink. We finished the dance and he asked if I wanted him and his girlfriend to walk me home - which I agreed to and thanked him for.

Even as out of it as I was, though, I distinctly remember being bitterly heartbroken that he had a girlfriend.

But six months later when they broke up, I was dating Asshole Football Player #1. Within a month Jensen started dating a girl from his acting class, and broke up two weeks later, but then quickly got back together. During their second go around I broke up with Asshole #1 and started dating Asshole Football Player #2. A month later Jensen and the actress broke up for good. But I stayed with Asshole #2 through the rest of college - until two days before graduation when I found out he was cheating on me.

And had been for a long time.

Jensen was already in LA by then, but I called him to pour out my broken heart and he listened to me bawl and then jumped in his car. It was a twenty hour drive from LA.

He made it in sixteen, getting there in time to hug me in my cap and gown, clap loudly with my parents when I was handed my diploma, sit through a slightly tortuous dinner with my parents and my extended family, and then take me out to get drunk.

He was my best friend and I knew I was his. But for me things went much deeper. I had been attracted to him from the first moment I laid eyes on him, and sometimes it physically hurt to be near him, to hug him, or cuddle up next to him. But I also wasn’t willing to give up those moments, so I suffered through them.

I had no idea if, at any point in our friendship, he’d ever felt the same. Our timing was complete shit, we kept missing our windows to even try. I’d never attempted to say anything to him (though what would I even say?) because either he was in a relationship or I was, so the moment was never right.

Not that he’d ever indicated he wanted to try, but sometimes there were moments where I felt like, maybe? Maybe he did? But I could never be sure. Suffice it to say we had a very complicated relationship. At least on my end.

And now we were here together, dating people neither one of us really wanted to be dating, deciding on whether or not we wanted to try making out with strangers.

I looked at Jensen and a thought struck my mind. What if I ended up with him? What if he ended up with me? What if we were paired together?

“I wanna do it!” I blurted out. Ethan looked furious

“No.” He said in an angry whisper.

I thought about trying to smooth his ruffled feathers, cajole him into trying, but in the end I just decided it was just too much work.

“I’m doing it.” I said instead.

“And I’m telling you, I won't allow it.” Ethan growled out at me, getting into my face. "I won't put up with it."

I rolled my eyes, truly just done with his alpha male bullshit. “Then don’t. Bye.” I said and waved him away.

Ethan’s light brown eyes were rage-filled slits as he stared at me. I felt Jensen step up behind me, and knew he’d have my back. Ethan must have realized it too, cause he huffed out a childish whine and took off.

Eduardo the Extraordinary saw Ethan storm away and gave a theatrical grimace and then pretended to whisper conspiratorially to me.

“Probably better off without him, sweetie.”

More nervous laughter surrounded me and I felt a little embarrassed. But I also felt as though a big weight had been lifted off of me.

Hmm, I thought, probably a sign I really am better off without him.

Jensen pulled me into a sideways hug and kissed the top of my head. I closed my eyes and sighed. It was exactly these moments that I loved and hated all at once.

“Wanna bow out, darlin’?” He asked quietly, and as always his deep voice and soft drawl made me melt.

I shook my head, still holding on to the small possibility that I could finally get my seven minutes in heaven with Jensen. A voice was telling me that that was a stupid, dangerous wish - but I ignored it.

“No, I’m good.” I shrugged and laughed lightly. “What the hell? Maybe I’ll meet the man of my dreams here.” I looked up at Jensen and tried hard not to let my expression tell him, “It’s you, you idiot! Kiss me!”

Eduardo continued with the rules.

“So the way the game is played is, you'll all be given seven minutes with your anonymous partner. At the end of seven minutes there will be a soft buzzer. If you're finished, just leave. But if you both want to stay another seven minutes, you can have another seven minutes. If after 14 minutes total neither of you wants to come out, then we'll stop buzzing you guys and you can just have the rest of the hour to...get acquainted some more. There are light switches just inside the door, if at any point you want to turn the lights on. But we encourage you to at least try the first seven minutes in the dark. It's fun!!”

“We really all just wanna have a good time,” Eduardo reiterated, “so let's do that!”

There was another round of applause and cheering and Eduardo raised his arms in celebration.

“Now,” he called out over the applause,”you're all gonna leave now and be called back in, randomly one by one, and we'll show you to your door. If you're the first in the room, just wait patiently. Your partner will get there shortly and then your first seven minutes will begin.”

***

I waited in the lobby with everyone and there was a giddy kind of awkwardness in the air as we all just stood there waiting to be called. Out of the three of us, I went in first and as I looked back at Jensen he gave me a smile, but it was a slightly strange smile and I couldn't decipher it.

I re-entered the room we just left and approached Eduardo. He smiled at me warmly.

“Alright, it’s the little mama who said ‘bye-bye’ to the man-child.” He said with a laugh.

I smiled shyly, still slightly embarrassed by it the scene we made. “Not to worry sweetie,” he said, patting my hand, “because I know JUST who to pair you with.”

He winked at me and handed me a key with the number six on it. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks.” I said quietly, my stomach nervous.

Can I really do this, I thought? It was so unlike me, I was pretty vanilla when it came to sex and dating. So making out with a random stranger in the dark was way out of my comfort zone. But it was a fun kind of nervousness, like feeling the rollercoaster climbing upwards to that first drop. And in the back of my mind was the secret hope that the man in the dark was going to feel a little bit familiar to me.

It was hard to tell how long I waited before the door opened and someone stepped inside. The room beyond the door had been darkened so that it was almost impossible even to make out a silhouette.

The door closed and I could feel my heart beating fast and hard. I could sense someone approaching and I bit my lip as a familiar scent hit my nose. I was sure that it was Jensen’s cologne. I’d cuddled into his sweaters enough times that I knew it well. But it wasn’t impossible that another guy wore the same kind of cologne.

But it made all the butterflies come alive in my stomach. I held out my hand in his direction so that he would know he reached me. My hand brushed against his torso and I squeaked and then tried to stifle my giggle, trying to abide with the ‘stay quiet’ part of the game.

The man who was possibly Jensen took hold of my hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the fingertips. I gasped lightly at the feel of the man’s full, soft lips. More proof that the man standing in front of me might just be my best friend. The hours I’d spent pining after those lips…I sighed.

I knew them well.

He brought his hand forward, probably trying to find my cheek, but he overshot his reach and ended up sort of punching me lightly in the forehead.

I let out a small “oomph” and he let out a moan of contrition. I giggled again, and heard his answering chuckle, and I was suddenly sure that it was Jensen. It smelled like him, felt like him, and sounded like him.

It has to be him, right? I thought to myself as he shifted his hand so it was running down my cheek.

I remembered Eduardo’s wink and wondered if his years of matchmaking strangers had given him a sixth sense about my feelings for Jensen. Could he have been so kind as to put us together?

Long fingers gripped the side of my neck and pulled me closer to him. I could feel the heat radiating from the hard body he pressed against me and I let out an involuntary sigh. He ran his thumb over my mouth. He may have just been trying to locate it in the dark, but I took the chance to pull the tip of it into my mouth and suck gently.

A harsh grunt issued from the invisible man making my blood run hot in my veins, and it was a sound I’d imagined a million times, a sound I’d heard in so many fantasies, and I felt it shoot straight to my core.

When I let go of his thumb he wasted no time in dragging me tight against him and landing his mouth on mine. He seemed to have no trouble finding it, slotting his mouth around mine and sucking on my top lip before pushing his tongue inside and swallowing the soft moan I couldn’t contain.

I reached my arms up to loop around his neck just as he brought both his hands to cup my cheeks. His hands bumped my arms and knocked them away. We broke the kiss, laughing too much to continue. After a moment he reached out to grab my arms and wrap them around his neck. Then he slid his hands around my waist and squeezed me as he bent to kiss me again.

His mouth was heaven, no - it was sin. Heavenly sin. He slid his lips over my jawbone and down my neck to suck on the pulse point there and I pushed one hand into his short hair, and gripped the front of his t-shirt with the other. I wanted to feel the warm skin beneath the cotton, but I didn’t want to push him too far too fast by slipping my hand under his clothes.

Suddenly the buzzer sounded and we both jumped slightly. I couldn’t believe seven minutes had passed already. We both hesitated. I was desperate for him to stay, but I wasn’t sure what to say to make it happen. In the end we both said nothing, simply melting back into each other without words.

He took hold of my hands and led me forward while he walked backwards until he hit the bed and fell, pulling me down on top of him. There was more giggling from the two of us as we rolled together so that he laid along my right side. He reached for my waistband and his fingertips skimmed along my skin just under the hem of my t-shirt, hesitating slightly in question. I nodded enthusiastically, hoping he could sense it even if he couldn’t see it and I pushed his hand farther up under my shirt so that his knuckles brushed the underside of my breast.

He groaned and cupped me through my bra, squeezing gently and making me arch into his big hand and whimper. He grunted at the noise and then used both hands to push up my shirt and wrench down the cups of my bra. He cradled my breast in his hand and dipped his head to pull my nipple into his mouth and suck on it hard. As his lips tightened around the aching bud I spoke without thinking.

“Fuck, Jensen.”

I had moaned his name out in my restless dreams so many times that at first I didn’t realize what I’d done. In the dark, everything felt like a dream anyway, like I’d fallen into one of my fantasies. But as his mouth stilled and he pulled away slightly I was kicking myself.

Way to go, you’ve just ruined everything! I was yelling at myself.

But before I could spiral too far down the rabbit hole the second buzzer went off. Jensen pulled me up to sitting and he pressed his mouth softly to mine, readjusting my bra and shirt.

“Y/N.” He sighed gently. “Thank god. I knew it had to be you. I know your laugh so well and the way you sigh, I’ve heard it in my dreams a thousand times. It had to be you. No one else makes me hard like this.” He slid my hand over to feel the stiff ridge behind his zipper as he slipped his mouth down to suck on a spot just behind my ear that made me shiver.

“Wait, you knew it was me?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, and I just hoped to God I was right.”

“What do you mean? Since when are you interested in me like that? You’ve never said anything.”

“Me?” He said as he pulled away from me. “What about you?” He gave an exasperated laugh before standing up. “Can…can I turn on the lights? I really wanna see your face.”

“Okay.” I said softly, worried that the harsh light might ruin what we’d created between us in the quiet dark.

But when Jensen flicked on the light, only a soft, golden glow washed over us, romantic and appealing. He stood near the door and seeing him standing there, tall and solid and so fucking sexy, it made me want to jump up and devour him.

“Goddam.” He said roughly as he looked at me, and my stomach fluttered at the look of heat and arousal that suffused his face.

I bit my lip and he seemed to take that as hesitancy on my part. He cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. “We can be done now, if you want. I mean, we can…walk out of here and try to pretend this never happened. If you want.”

I felt my stomach plummet. “Is that what you want?”

“Fuck no.”

His reaction made me laugh. “Good.”

But then I frowned slightly. “Though maybe we should stop. I mean at least until…you know…I mean...Stacey.”

“Finished.” He said, shaking his head. “I broke up with her before we left the lobby to come in here.”

My eyes got round and my heart squeezed tight. “Are you serious?”

He nodded and smiled softly. “Yeah, I just finally realized that I was being a dumbass. Cause I was standing there next to this woman that I didn’t even really like, and hoping and praying to end up in a room with my best friend. You know, so I could make out with her.”

I laughed again and he came to sit beside me on the bed. He reached up to run his knuckles over my cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart, but you were always dating asshole after asshole.”

I spluttered a bit. “Well, you were too!”

“Only cause you were!”

We both took a big breath to continue the argument, and then let them out in another whoosh of laughter.

“God, we’re so stupid. Do you realize how much time we’ve wasted?” He asked as he plucked my bottom lip with his thumb.

I shook my head. “Then let's not waste anymore.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He said with a grin.

His eyes softened as he leaned down to kiss me; his lips were barely a whisper against mine, teasing them, brushing so softly that I whined my complaint.

“Jensen. Please kiss me for real. I've waited so long for you.”

He nodded as he breathed against my lips. “Me too, darlin’, me too.”

He lifted me up, moving me so that I was straddling his lap. He pushed his hands into my hair and held my head in place so he could lick open my lips and plunge his tongue inside. He kissed me thoroughly, tasting every inch of my mouth and then sucking on my bottom lip.

He only broke off our heated kisses so he could pull my t-shirt over my head. He tossed it aside and exhaled slowly, reverently running his fingers across the tops of my breasts. He reached around and easily unhooked my bra and tossed it on top of my shirt on the floor.

He shifted us on the bed, laying me beneath him, and rose to his knees to pull his t-shirt off. I licked my lips as I looked at his beautiful, naturally muscled torso. I'd seen him without his shirt before - at the beach, or when he’d play “skins” during a shirts and skins pick up game. But this was the first time I was allowed to reach out and touch him like I’d wanted to every time.

I traced my fingers down his ribcage and over his flat stomach. His muscles contracted at my touch and it was probably the hottest fucking thing I'd ever seen.

He lowered himself down so he was on his hands and knees hovering above me. He kissed me again, aggressively, moaning down my throat and then leaning on his elbows so he could suck my left nipple into his mouth, before grasping it with his teeth and tugging hard.

I arched off the bed and dragged my nails across his wide shoulders.

“Unf, fuck!” He growled harshly as he moved his mouth down my body, trailing hot, wet kisses across my skin. When he reached my waistband, he looked up at me with a question in his eyes.

I nodded. “Yes.” was all I could say. I was desperate to feel him closer, to pull him inside me.

He unbuttoned my jeans and pulled the zipper down before grabbing them, along with my panties, and peeling them down my legs until I was naked under his scorching hot gaze. He was so unbearably beautiful as he contemplated all of me, his expression ravenous and aching.

It was more than I ever could have imagined and it made me reach for him and push down his jeans and underwear too, letting him kick them off while I got my first look at his thick, marbled cock. It left me drooling and I groaned harshly as he wrapped his fist around it and pumped himself lazily a few times.

Then he lowered himself to lay between my legs, his face level with my dripping cunt.

“Christ sweetheart, you're mouth-watering.” He murmured seconds before he began his oral torture. He began slowly, small kitten licks and nibbles to my pulsing clit, followed by long, undulating swipes with his wide, talented tongue.

He built the pressure gradually, torturously, until I was almost weeping with want, thrusting my hips against his sinful, sensual mouth and begging him to take me over the edge.

His hair stood on end from my fingers gripping it and pulling it. He let me tug and yank all I wanted, but it never made him change the course he wanted to take. If he wanted to slow down and suck ever so softly on my clit, no amount of hair-pulling from me was going to change that.

I was shaking with need, making animalistic noises that had never come out of my mouth before. Then he speared me with his tongue and pushed two fingers inside my pussy to press perfectly against my sweet spot. I screamed and climaxed harder than I ever had before.

But it was just the beginning.

Every time my orgasm started to wane, Jensen would just start working me up all over again. I'd desperately pant out that I couldn't possibly come again, but he'd promise me I could do one more. He always got his way, and a few minutes later I'd be screaming again and gushing over his chin.

Finally he kissed his way back up my body, nibbling on my pulse point as he reached into the drawer in the small bedside table and chuckled.

He pulled out a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “They have thought of everything haven't they?”

I sighed deeply, knowing that I would be eternally grateful to this place for giving me this beautiful man at last. He rolled the condom on and then rested on his elbows as he slid slowly into my swollen, pulsing cunt.

His teeth were bared as he bottomed out, the veins on his neck bulging slightly.

“Fuck, fuck.” Was all he managed to mumble as he buried his face in the side of my neck.

I ran my hands over his perfectly muscled back and felt as though I was floating away. He filled me so tightly, so completely that it was the first time I truly understood the idea of sex being two people joining as one. This was what lovemaking and sex was supposed to feel like: overwhelming pleasure and endless, boundless connection.

It brought tears to my eyes and I whispered in his ear, my voice barely a whisper.

“I love you, Jensen.”

He pushed up so he could meet my gaze. He saw my tears and gently kissed each of my eyelids before brushing his lips over mine.

“I love you too, Y/N.” He smiled and it felt like the sun on my face. “I’ve loved you forever.”

“Me too.” I said, voice slightly choked. “And I will keep on loving you forever.”

“Me too.”

He kissed me again, and then we began to move together, our bodies moving in a perfect give and take, push and pull. I ran my fingers over his taut, warm skin, and he pushed his blunt fingertips against mine, dimpling my flesh and finding every sensitive spot to lavish with attention.

He slid his thumb down to press against my clit as he watched himself move in and out of my body. I clutched at his forearms and he pulled me up so I was straddling his thighs and riding his cock. His arm curled around my waist and he helped rise and fall on his cock as we both chased our highs. He was tugging at my nipples and sucking on my tongue and then he pumped his hips deep and hard one more time and everything exploded around me again.

I'd lost count of the number of orgasms he'd pulled out of my pliant and boneless body.

But this time I felt him fall with me. I heard him shout out a short, deep cry of bliss before he turned his head and bit into my neck gently, to quiet himself. His hips spasmed, bucking into me a few more times, slamming me against him and making my whole body quiver.

Finally we tumbled down to the messy sheets and clung to each other as we tried to catch our breath.

Jensen pulled off the condom and tossed it in the trash before pushing my sweaty hair off my forehead and placing a kiss there. I wrapped my leg over his hip and began licking and sucking at the salty skin along his collarbone.

A thought occurred to me as our breathing eventually returned to normal.

“They're gonna kick us out of here right away.”

Jensen looked at the clock on the wall and shook his head. “N’ah! We still got like seven minutes.” He grinned at me wickedly. “And I can do a lot to this incredible body of yours in seven minutes.”

“Prove it!” I challenged as I began tickling his side and then giggling breathlessly as he grabbed hold of my wandering hands and slammed them onto the mattress on either side of my head.

He kissed me breathless again and then spoke deep and luscious in my ear. “You asked for it, sweetheart.”

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33 @akshi8278 @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly @candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007 @notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @hobby27

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles rpf #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #jacklesversebingo23 #jensen ackles fluff

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prince-liest · 8 months ago

Note

In the future, once the hotel gets big and garners more interest, I could imagine the Vees making "knock-off" redemption hotels. "Trust us! With your salvation." Cue increasing distrust in the concept

Oh my god, I love this. I actually, genuinely hope that this happens in canon in later seasons because it just seems to be so incredibly in-line with the Vees' MO to literally capitalize on the newest trend to sell people their own salvation. Also super thematic with Vox's possible original/old backstory of having been a televangelist!

I actually think that the problem this would most likely initially cause is less people distrusting the concept, and more the Vees being able to sell it better and thus stealing business from the hotel even though who knows if they have any idea how to actually redeem people. The process apparently involves death, after all. Maybe they're just knocking people off permanently! It's not like there's any way to tell - fuck, maybe they make up a "contact" up in heaven and mock up fake "post-redemption" video proof showing that their concept works as part of the sales pitch.

The thing about the Vees is that even though we know they're deeply untrustworthy, the show for the most part seems to show us that they're extremely successful in their business and in getting people to buy what they're selling. People are absolutely clamoring to get one of VoxTek's new spy drones in Vox's intro, for example. I genuinely think it seems like an extremely on-point plot point to have the Vees end up in direct competition for selling redemption, especially when they have many more resources in the form of manpower and advertising to make their own operation look glamorous and appealing compared to the Hazbin Hotel (possibly even post-renovation).

And only after they become massively successful and earn a ridiculous amount of money off of the concept would the whole thing collapse. Charlie wouldn't have real incentive to stop them at first, would she? She tends to give people the benefit of the doubt. If they're genuinely redeeming people, well - it would make her a bad person to get in the way of that, no matter how much Alastor seethes about Vox stepping in on his turf, or how vaguely uncomfortable Angel Dust is with the concept. But once the whole secret gets blown wide open and Charlie & Co save the day... if it comes out that VoxTek has been murdering people rather than saving them... even though Charlie is the one who put a stop to it all...

Then, yes. If people can't trust VoxTek ("Trust us!") with their redemption, then why in the world would they trust Charlie's slapdash operation?

#ask #personal #Anonymous #hazbin hotel #meta #hazbin hotel meta #op meta #love this love this love this

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superwholock36 · 14 days ago

Text

~ A Little Taste of Heaven ~ (Peter Parker x Fem!Reader) (1/?)

Sorry for any mistakes! I don't have a beta and this is my first story I've ever put out there! ~ ❤️ Any feed back is much appreciated! I hope you all Enjoy!

Also it has been posted to ao3 as I have an account there under Kprincess3697 so it hasn’t been stolen, Love y’all 🥰

warnings : Mature themes/Explicit content/Action-packed violence/Emotional turmoil/Hostage situations/Romance/Angst summery "Spider-Man swings in to save the day, but ends up stealing more than just a moment—he gets caught in something a little more… complicated. 😉"

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🎵🎶Sweetest Pie • Megan Thee Stallion, Dua Lipa 🎶🎵(link to song)

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Moving to Manhattan had felt like stepping into an entirely new existence. Her old life—familiar routines, the safety net of her small circle—was now miles away, stored in memory boxes and cautious goodbyes. This was supposed to be her fresh start, her big break. She had landed a job at the New York Bulletin, after all.

The title alone had made her giddy with anticipation. A major magazine! She had imagined herself diving into editorial meetings, pitching bold ideas, and seeing her byline in glossy print. But reality had been far less glamorous. Instead of crafting stories, she spent her days running coffee orders, delivering memos, and juggling dry cleaning runs for senior staff.

An errand girl. That’s what she had become.

She fought to swallow the growing pit of disappointment every time her phone buzzed with yet another task. This wasn’t what she had dreamed of, but Manhattan wasn’t one for indulging dreams—it was a place where you either climbed or got swept away. And she wasn’t about to let the city win.

Navigating the bustling streets of Manhattan was like stepping into a current of unrelenting energy. Crowds surged past [Name] in every direction, the air thick with the aroma of street food mingled with exhaust fumes. She kept her head low, her messenger bag slung over one shoulder and her phone clutched tightly in her hand. She had just picked up lunch for her editor, the kind of errand that seemed to define her job lately.

She paused at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. The towering digital screens above her flickered, capturing her attention as they cut into their regular loop of advertisements. The unmistakable face of J. Jonah Jameson appeared, scowling and leaning forward in his signature style that made it seem like he was berating the entire city.

“This just in!” his gravelly voice boomed over the speakers, loud enough to drown out even the relentless honking of taxis. “Another so-called heroic escapade by your friendly neighborhood Spider-Menace. Earlier today, the webbed wonder was spotted in a disastrous attempt to thwart a robbery in Queens, leaving chaos in his wake!”

[Name] watched as shaky footage played on the screens, showing Spider-Man swinging between buildings, dodging blasts of some kind of energy weapon. The scene cut back to Jameson, his face practically crimson with indignation. “Let me be clear, folks,” he continued, wagging a finger for emphasis. “Spider-Man isn’t saving this city. He’s putting you in danger—plain and simple!"

The light changed, but [Name] found herself rooted to the spot for a moment longer, watching the broadcast. Around her, New Yorkers barely glanced up, accustomed to Jameson's rants and the endless stream of breaking news. To [Name], though, it was a strange reminder of the world she now lived in—a world where superheroes and supervillains were part of the daily grind.

She shook her head and stepped into the crosswalk, weaving through the sea of pedestrians. Whatever her own challenges were, she figured, at least she wasn’t tangled up in all that. For now, her focus had to stay on making her own way in this city, one step at a time.

===================================

[Name] pushed open the glass doors of the New York Bulletin, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and a warm bag of takeout wafting up from her hands. The front desk clerk barely glanced up as she hurried past, juggling the precarious tray and paper bag while trying to avoid bumping into her colleagues. Her heels clicked against the polished floor, echoing in a way that made her feel small—just another cog in the relentless machine of the magazine world.

She arrived at her boss’s office, setting the coffee and lunch order down on the edge of his sprawling mahogany desk. He didn’t even look up from his computer, offering only a curt “Thanks,” before diving back into whatever important task demanded his attention.

At her desk—a tiny corner carved out in the bullpen—[Name] pulled out her notebook. Her coffee-stained to-do list stared back at her, mocking her ambitions. Gripping her pen, she doodled absentmindedly in the margins, her thoughts drifting to the stories she wanted to tell, the words she was desperate to write. She couldn’t let this be her only reality. There had to be a way to prove herself, to claw her way out of the errands and into the writing she was born to do.

Before [Name] could take another sip of her now-lukewarm coffee, her work phone buzzed. The caller ID flashed her boss’s name—“Mr. Caldwell”—and she reluctantly answered.

“[Name], I need you to handle a few things for me,” Mr. Caldwell’s voice came through, brisk and to the point. “I’ve got an important meeting this afternoon with Diane Hartridge from Hamilton Publishing. Big deal for us. So, here’s what I need: send out those follow-up emails I dictated yesterday, book me a lunch appointment with Hartridge for next Tuesday, and drop off a package at this address.”

She heard the shuffle of papers on his end before he rattled off an address. [Name] scribbled it down on a notepad, recognizing the street as one not far from her own apartment.

“Yes, sir,” she said, forcing a professional tone into her voice. She could already feel the familiar twinge of frustration creeping in. Meetings with publishing executives, conversations about big deals—those were the kinds of things she had dreamed of being involved in. Instead, here she was, taking notes like an intern.

“And once you’ve dropped that off, you can take the rest of the day off,” Caldwell added, as though offering her a generous gift. “Consider it a breather. You’ve earned it.”

[Name] bit back a sigh. “Got it,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. Hanging up, she glanced at the tasks now piling up on her mental to-do list.

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

Back at her desk, she typed furiously, knocking out the follow-up emails with clockwork efficiency. Each one had to be just so—polished, professional, and perfectly aligned with her boss’s expectations. Once she hit send on the last email, she tackled the lunch appointment, navigating the online booking system while fielding interruptions from passing colleagues.

Half an hour later, with her inbox cleared and the reservation confirmed, [Name] leaned back in her chair and allowed herself a fleeting moment of satisfaction. One set of tasks done.

Grabbing her bag and the package from the reception desk, she stepped out into the midday chaos of Manhattan. The familiar surge of people, cars, and noise hit her immediately, but at least the errand would take her near her neighbourhood. She adjusted the strap of her bag, holding the package securely under one arm as she navigated the sidewalks.

Moving in step with the endless tide of Manhattan pedestrians, [Name] felt almost invisible amid the city’s chaotic rhythm. As she turned the corner, a boutique caught her eye, its window display glowing softly under the midday sun. There, on a mannequin, was a dress that immediately drew her in—a soft lavender piece that was sweet and understated. The hem hit mid-thigh, just a few widths away from the knees, with delicate white lace ribbons crisscrossing over the bodice and tied into a playful little bow at the sweetheart neckline. It wasn’t extravagant, but it was undeniably feminine, with just the right touch of charm.

[Name] hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the boutique, the bell above the door chiming softly as she entered. The quiet hum of conversation and the fresh, clean scent that lingered in the air made the shop feel like a little oasis from the noise outside.

“Can I help you find anything?” a cheerful sales assistant asked, her warm smile matching the inviting atmosphere.

“I was actually hoping to try on the lavender dress in the window,” [Name] said, her voice laced with a shy excitement.

“Of course! Let me grab your size,” the assistant replied, quickly disappearing into the back.

A few minutes later, [Name] stood in front of a full-length mirror in the dressing room, smoothing out the soft fabric over her hips. The dress fit perfectly, the lavender colour complimenting her complexion and the crisscrossing lace ribbons adding a playful, feminine flair. She smiled, turning slightly to admire the way it flattered her figure. It was exactly what she needed for the get-together that evening—a simple yet pretty reminder that, even amidst the chaos of her first week, there was still room for moments like this.

“This is the one,” she told herself quietly, nodding with conviction as she stepped back into her own shoes.

Within minutes, she was back out on the street, the boutique’s shopping bag swinging lightly in her hand. The day didn’t seem quite as daunting now. Tonight, she’d celebrate in her new dress, and maybe—just maybe—she’d let herself believe that she belonged here, even if things hadn’t gone exactly as she had planned.

=========================================

The bass thumped through the crowded bar, reverberating under [Name]’s feet as she leaned on the high-top table. The evening had been a lively blur of laughter, drinks, and getting to know her colleagues—Hannah, who worked in layout design, and Megan, one of the junior writers. [Name] was starting to feel like she was finding her footing, a stark contrast to the awkward chaos of her first day.

“Wait, so you actually spilled coffee on him? On Caldwell?” Megan asked, her eyes wide with mock horror as she took a sip of her wine.

“Straight on him,” [Name] said, laughing despite herself. “It was everywhere—his desk, his papers, him. I thought I was going to be fired on the spot, but he just looked at me and said, ‘You’ve got five minutes to get me another latte.’”

“That’s iconic,” Hannah said, grinning. “Honestly, not bad for a first day. Could’ve been worse.”

They all burst into laughter, and Megan raised her glass. “To surviving your first week!” she declared, her enthusiasm infectious.

“To surviving,” Hannah echoed, clinking her glass against theirs.

[Name] couldn’t help but smile as their glasses met with a cheerful ring. She felt a spark of warmth in her chest, the camaraderie lifting her spirits. For the first time in a while, she felt like she belonged—at least, a little.

The moment shifted as a couple of guys approached their table, clearly familiar with Hannah and Megan. The women greeted them with easy smiles, the conversation quickly veering into shared anecdotes and inside jokes that [Name] didn’t quite follow. Not wanting to intrude, she offered to grab another round of drinks for the three of them.

Squeezing through the throng of people, she made her way to the bar. It was packed, but she managed to find a small gap to slide into, catching the bartender’s attention after a few minutes of patient waiting. As she rattled off their order, the music thumped louder, almost drowning out her voice. She shifted her weight, waiting for the drinks, when she felt a presence sidle up beside her.

“Hey there,” a man said, his voice just audible over the blaring music. [Name] turned her head to see him leaning against the bar, his shirt slightly untucked and a confident smirk on his face.

“You here alone?” he asked, his tone casually suggestive.

“No, I’m here with friends,” she replied, keeping her voice polite but firm. She’d dealt with this type before—overconfident, pushy, and oblivious to boundaries. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Ah, come on,” he pressed, leaning closer. “I could keep you company.”

“I’m good, thanks,” [Name] said sharply, her grip tightening on the bar as the bartender set the drinks down in front of her. She grabbed them quickly, balancing the glasses carefully in her hands. “Excuse me.”

The man stepped back, raising his hands as though he’d done nothing wrong. “Alright, alright. No need to be like that,” he said with a crooked grin before disappearing into the crowd.

By the time she got back to the table, her heart was steady again, her annoyance at the man already dissipating into the noise and energy of the bar. Hannah and Megan noticed her expression, though, their conversation pausing briefly.

“Everything okay?” Megan asked, setting her drink down.

“Yeah,” [Name] said, sliding the glasses onto the table. “Just some guy at the bar who couldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What a creep,” Hannah muttered, her gaze darting toward the bar. “Stick with us. We’ve got your back.”

Nodding grateful for the solidarity. She sat back down, forcing herself to focus on the laughter and warmth at the table. Encounters like that weren’t new to her, but they were never pleasant. Still, she wasn’t about to let one guy ruin her night.

As the night wore on, the music seemed to pulse through every corner of the bar, and she found herself swept up in the rhythm with Hannah and Megan. The three of them laughed as they danced in a small circle, occasionally bumping into each other as the crowd pressed around them. Hannah threw her arms up with exaggerated flair, spinning in time to the beat, while Megan leaned in to shout over the music, “You’ve got moves, girl! Where’ve you been hiding these?”

She laughed, shaking her head as she tried to keep up. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the pounding of the bass, the heat of the room, and the infectious energy of shared joy. They pulled her into a silly line dance, half stumbling and laughing through it, before dissolving into giggles at their own lack of coordination.

“I needed this,” Megan said, fanning herself dramatically as they paused to catch their breath. “Best idea ever.”

Hannah nodded, her cheeks flushed from both the dancing and her gin and tonic. “Agreed. But I think our admirers might have other ideas.”

The guys from earlier had appeared at the edge of the dance floor, waving them over with playful grins. Hannah shot Megan a look, and the two of them exchanged mischievous smiles before turning back to her.

“We’re gonna head out with them,” Hannah said, placing a light hand on her arm. “You okay getting home?”

She nodded, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”

“Text us when you’re home, okay?” Megan said, pulling her in for a quick hug.

Hannah gave a quick wave as they linked arms with the two guys, disappearing into the crowd. Left alone under the flashing lights of the bar, she lingered for a moment, letting the music wash over her. The night had been fun—chaotic, vibrant, exactly what she needed—but as she glanced at the time on her phone, she decided it was probably time to call it herself.

Grabbing her bag, she slipped out of the bar into the cool embrace of the city night. The vibrant pulse of music and chatter faded as the door swung shut behind her, replaced by the layered hum of Manhattan—the sporadic honk of a cab, muffled voices from passing groups, and the occasional rumble of a subway train beneath her feet.

The air was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain on concrete, grounding her as she started walking. She pulled out her phone, glancing at the map briefly to reorient herself. The bar was in a part of the city she didn’t know too well, and the unfamiliar street names were a little disorienting. Still, she figured she’d find her way soon enough. After all, getting lost was part of the charm of living in Manhattan—wasn’t it?

She took a right, then a left, but the streets didn’t seem to align with where she thought she should be. A few blocks later, she realized she might have gone too far in the wrong direction. The tall buildings seemed to close in slightly, their windows glinting faintly under dim streetlights. Her grip on the strap of her bag tightened as she slowed her steps, scanning for a recognizable landmark.

Then she heard it. Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. They weren’t her own.

Her heart tightened as she slowed her pace, ears straining against the quiet. She risked a glance over her shoulder but saw nothing—just the stretch of empty sidewalk behind her. A chill pricked at the back of her neck, and she shook her head, trying to dispel the creeping paranoia. It’s nothing, she told herself. Just someone else heading home.

But the sound didn’t fade. It grew louder. Closer.

Her heart raced as she quickened her pace, scanning the empty streets for something familiar. Turning into an alley in a desperate attempt to shortcut her way back, she froze. Ahead, blocking the far end, stood two burly men, their shadows stretched long under the dim, flickering streetlight. They didn’t move, but their stance left no question—they were waiting.

Her breath caught, and she spun around, instinctively stepping back toward the entrance she had come through. But her stomach dropped as she saw him. The man from the bar emerged from the shadows behind her, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets as if he’d been out for a leisurely stroll. His smirk was gone, replaced by something far darker. The gleam in his eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine.

He took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate, the click of his shoes echoing against the walls of the alley. “Looks like you got a little turned around,” he said, his voice low and sinister, the friendliness he had feigned earlier now stripped away. “Don’t worry. We’ll help you find your way.”

[Name]’s chest tightened, and her hand gripped the strap of her bag as her mind raced for an exit. Trapped between the men blocking her path and him closing in behind, she felt the weight of the alley pressing down on her like a vice. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go.

The man’s smirk twisted into something even darker as he stepped closer, the dim light catching the cold gleam in his eyes. She instinctively took another step back, her breath quickening, but before she could fully process her next move, he lunged.

The suddenness of it made her heart slam in her chest. She jerked back, her movement instinctual and desperate, only to collide hard with something solid. A startled gasp escaped her as she spun around, realizing too late that she had backed straight into the other two men. Their hands shot out like vices, one grabbing her by the arm, the other seizing her bag and yanking her balance off-center.

“Got her,” one of them muttered, his voice gravelly, the sound of it reverberating in her ears as panic clawed its way up her throat.

She twisted and pulled, trying to wrench herself free, but their grips only tightened. The man from the bar loomed closer now, his steps deliberate and almost lazy, as if he already knew the struggle was futile. He adjusted his sleeves, his calm movements a sinister contrast to the chaos surging through her body.

“You made this way too easy,” he said, his voice dripping with malice....

Before he could make contact, a cheery, almost sing-song voice interrupted. “Yoohoo!”

The man froze, his head snapping to the side as Spider-Man crouched casually on the edge of the building above them, giving an awkward wave. “I think it’s you who made this easy,” he quipped, the web-shooters on his wrists already aimed and primed. With a swift flick, a sticky line of web shot out, pinning the man to the brick wall behind him. His smirk disappeared in an instant, replaced by a look of shocked indignation.

“Hang tight,” Spider-Man said, hopping down into the alley with a graceful flip. He landed between [Name] and the two burly men, who were momentarily too stunned to move. “Alright, fellas. Who’s next?”

The bigger of the two lunged, throwing a wide, meaty punch in Spider-Man’s direction. Without breaking a sweat, Spidey caught the punch mid-swing, his free hand scratching at the back of his head as though this was all mildly inconvenient. “Man, you guys really need to work on your timing. Swing and a miss,” he said, twisting the man’s arm just enough to send him stumbling backward.

Before the other man could make a move, Spider-Man shot out another web, sticking his feet firmly to the ground. The guy flailed awkwardly, looking down at his now-immobile boots as Spider-Man turned to him. “And you,” he said, wagging a finger like a disappointed teacher. “I think you should apologize to the lady. Right now. Loudly. And use your nicest manners.”

He tilted his head toward [Name], who stood frozen in shock, her heart still racing from the encounter. Spider-Man turned back to the first man, webbed securely to the wall, and offered a mockingly thoughtful hum. “What about you, Smirky McCreepy? Anything to say for yourself? Or are you good hanging out there?”

The bigger man sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “Apologize? To her? Screw you, Spider-Man.”

“Yeah,” the other chimed in, struggling against the webbing that pinned his feet to the ground. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Spider-Man sighed dramatically, shaking his head. “You know, I try to give people a chance. I really do. But you guys just had to go and ruin it.” With a flick of his wrist, another web shot out, sticking the last man to the ground before he could even think about making a move. “There. Now you’re all grounded. Literally.”

He tapped the side of his mask. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you let the NYPD know we’ve got a few bad apples here? Alley off 12th and Main. Oh, and tell them to bring extra cuffs—these guys are a bit... sticky.”

“Message sent,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s calm voice replied in his earpiece.

Spider-Man turned his attention back to [Name], his posture relaxing as he approached her. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his tone softer now. “I mean, I know this probably wasn’t how you planned your night, but... you’re safe now.”

Spider-Man shifted his weight from foot to foot, scratching the back of his head as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to stand properly. “So, uh,” he started, his voice cracking just slightly. “That was, uh, intense, right? I mean, not that I can’t handle it—I totally can—but, you know, I guess you didn’t sign up for alleyway creeps tonight.”

Her heartbeat was still racing, but his awkwardness was oddly comforting. She nodded, managing a small smile. “No, not exactly.”

“Yeah, figured,” he said, nodding along with her, as if trying to convince himself he wasn’t making things worse. “Uh, you’re not hurt or anything, right? No bumps, bruises, or weird Spidey-induced whiplash?”

“No, I’m fine,” she said, adjusting her bag. “Thanks for, you know… all of that.” She gestured vaguely toward the webbed-up men behind him, their muffled protests starting to quiet.

“Oh, don’t mention it,” he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. “I mean, seriously, don’t mention it—I kind of like to keep the whole ‘friendly neighbourhood’ thing on the down-low. You know, keep the mystery alive.”

Her smile widened a fraction, and he seemed to relax slightly. “So, uh,” he continued, gesturing toward the street. “Do you, like, know how to get home? Or...?”

She hesitated, glancing around at the unfamiliar streets. “Not really,” she admitted. “This isn’t my usual neighbourhood. I was trying to find my way back to East Harlem.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, his tone brightening. “East Harlem—cool area! Amazing food, great vibes, and, uh, let’s be honest, fewer creeps like these guys.” He gestured toward the webbed-up men behind him. “I can totally get you there! You know, as a bonus for saving the day—or, uh, the night.”

He stepped a little closer, his movements tentative as he caught her uneasy expression. “Hey, uh, you okay? That was… intense,” he said, his voice softening, as if the words were trying to land as gently as possible. “Not that I’m an expert on post-creep alleyway vibes or anything, but you look like you could use an express pass out of here.”

She hesitated, glancing back at the men stuck to the wall. The adrenaline still buzzed through her veins, but the idea of staying here a second longer made her stomach churn. “Yeah,” she said quietly, the word slipping out before she fully realized. “That’d be great.”

His masked head tilted slightly, like he was offering an unseen reassuring smile. “Alright, awesome. So, uh, what’s the plan? Should we do the ‘swinging-through-the-city’ thing? I mean, it’s faster than walking… and less awkward than small talk while we dodge fire hydrants.”

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his casual delivery. “You mean, like... swing? Swing-swing?”

“Yeah!” His voice brightened again as he straightened up, excited by her cautious curiosity. “Trust me, it’s like Uber, but with webs instead of wheels. And also no ratings, please, because I’m still workshopping my moves.”

Her laughter came unexpectedly, cutting through the edge of her fear. “Okay,” she said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Let’s do it.”

“Yes!” His arms shot into the air briefly in triumph before he caught himself. “I mean, cool. Great. Just hold on tight, and, uh, I promise I’ll try not to do any unnecessary flips. You know, unless it looks super cool.”

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, checking her expression to make sure she was okay with the proximity. When she nodded, he shot a web upward and leapt into the air. The world blurred as they arced high above the city, the rhythmic thwip of his webbing almost hypnotic. Her initial fear dissolved into awe as the view opened up—streetlights stretched below like strings of gold, and the warm summer breeze brushed her face.

“So,” he called over the wind, his tone as conversational as if they were sitting in a café, “East Harlem, huh? You got a favourite taco spot over there, or is it all just about the vibes?”

She laughed, adjusting to the thrill of being weightless. “I just moved here, actually,” she replied. “Still figuring it all out.”

“Perfect timing, then!” he replied, swinging them over a row of townhouses. “If you’re new, you have to try this one little taco truck on 116th. Oh, and there’s this churro cart on the corner of Lex—it’ll change your life. Like, I once ate five in one sitting, and I don’t even have a normal human metabolism.”

Landing briefly on a rooftop, he recalibrated, looking back at her. “Doing okay? I mean, like, no motion sickness or second thoughts?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling despite herself. “This is… kind of amazing.”

“Kind of?” He playfully gasped, launching them back into the air. “Alright, I’m gonna do, like, 12% more flips now. Just wait—it’ll be amazing amazing.”

She laughed again, the sound surprising even her, as the city continued to blur and twinkle below. The weight of the night’s events eased with every swing, her unease replaced by a growing sense of wonder—and a strange feeling of safety with the masked hero who seemed more human than super.

=======================================

With one final swing, Spider-Man landed lightly in an alley behind a quiet row of buildings. He set her down gently, stepping back and pulling at his mask slightly to adjust it. “And here we are—East Harlem. Or, well, technically, this very scenic, definitely-not-sketchy alleyway. But hey, you’re close enough, right?” He let out a nervous laugh, motioning around them with exaggerated enthusiasm.

She laughed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. The rush of swinging through the city still buzzed through her veins, but now that her feet were on solid ground, she could feel a different kind of energy—one she couldn’t quite explain. “That was incredible,” she said, her voice quieter now, steady.

“Yeah?” he replied, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “Cool, cool. Glad you think so. I mean, it’s not every day you get an airborne tour of the city. Well, unless you’re me. I get a lot of those.”

She stepped closer to him, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. The space between them shrank, and his posture stiffened slightly, as though he hadn’t been prepared for the sudden proximity. “Uh,” he said, his voice cracking just a touch, “you, uh, sure you’re okay? No whiplash? Sore neck? Legs still attached?”

Her lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. She didn’t answer, but her gaze held his, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

He froze, his mask hiding what was undoubtedly a deer-in-headlights expression. “I mean,” he stammered, gesturing vaguely to the alley, “you’re safe now! Which is—uh—good. Totally good. Safe is good.”

She tilted her head, still not saying anything.

Peter let out a shaky laugh, tugging at the edge of his mask out of nervous habit. He started to take a half-step back, but his body refused to follow through, stuck somewhere between retreat and a kind of hopeful panic.

Then [Name]'s hand touched his cheek, her fingers light even against the textured fabric of his suit. His breath hitched. “Can I kiss you?” she whispered, her voice so soft he wondered if maybe his mind had made it up. His eyes widened behind the mask, and he blinked a few too many times. “Uh—y-yeah, yeah, totally. I mean... yes,” he stammered, tripping over the words.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the fabric of his mask, teasingly soft against his covered cheek. Peter froze, his breath catching as the expressive eyes of his mask widened in surprise. For a moment, he was all nerves and stammering thoughts, the usual Peter Parker chaos.

But then, in a move that felt bold even for him, he reached up and tugged the mask just high enough to reveal his jaw, his cheek, and the curve of his lips. His heart pounded as he looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe… try that again?”

[Name] leaned in, her lips brushing softly against the bare skin of his cheek. It was quick, almost fleeting, but enough to send a jolt through Peter. His breath hitched audibly, and the eyes of his mask contracted again, wide and expressive.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him, testing the waters. Then, with a small, playful smile, she leaned in again, placing a gentle peck on his other cheek.

Peter’s lips parted slightly, his jaw tensing as if he were trying to process what was happening. His gloved hands hovered awkwardly at his sides, unsure of what to do.

“Uh…” he started, his voice cracking just a little. “I—uh—this is… nice.”

Name] leaned in again, her lips brushing the corner of his, feather-light. A soft sigh escaped her, warm against his skin. Peter’s breath hitched, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

The eyes of his mask contracted slightly, a flicker of surprise and something else—something braver. Slowly, he turned to face her fully, his gaze locking with hers for a heartbeat that felt like forever.

When she leaned in again, her lips found the corner of his once more, lingering just a moment longer. And then, as if drawn by an invisible thread, they both closed the gap. Her lips met his in a proper kiss, soft and unhurried, and Peter melted into it, his gloved hand hovering awkwardly near her shoulder before finally resting there, grounding him in the moment.

What started off as a light peck suddenly turned into a clash of tongues and teeth. He took a step forward, closing the last of the distance between them. Red-gloved hands wrapped around her—one at the waist, just above her lower back, and the other finding purchase at the base of her neck, pulling her deeper into the kiss. She lightly brushed her index and middle finger against his partially exposed cheek before placing the rest of her hand against his covered neck.

With a firm yet gentle touch, he guides her until she is pressed fully against the wall of her apartment complex. His lower hand shifts from her back to the wall, providing stability. She lets out a breathy moan, her head thrown back, and he takes the chance to lavish wet kisses and licks on her exposed neck.

Peter started prepping kisses along her shoulder and up her neck close to her ear. "Fuck~" he panted out, under the mask his pupils were blown out with the lust coursing through his veins. Looking at her, with her head thrown back, lips parted, and hair all dishevelled, did things to him. His heightened senses caught the quickening of her pulse, the heat rising to her cheeks, every subtle reaction she couldn't hide. He shouldn't—but hearing that single word shattered his restraint. "More~" She whispered, her breath hitching as she brought her face back to his, their lips colliding in a relentless cascade of kisses. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck.

She gasped aloud as she felt him lift her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing. Peter took the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth when he pressed her further into the wall, his weight pinned her in place as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Matching his intensity, her tongue danced with his in a heated battle for dominance. Her nails skimmed down the back of his mask, a deliberate and teasing motion.

It was as if she had become an entirely different person, a vixen. She was filled with wanton lust for man whose face she had never seen, he had an uncanny ability to captivate her completely. All she could feel was the undeniable heat and pulsing from between her thighs and she needed a release, and soon!

"I… I need more~" She whispered breathlessly, her eyes locking onto what little she could see of his face. His shoulders and chest rose and fell with each panting breath, mirroring her own unsteady rhythm. Her hips began to move involuntary against his own grinding down against a very noticeable bulge, what surprised her was his very own hips pushing up to meet her own thrust down. With each meeting of their hips, her summer dress inched up ever so slightly. "Oh... fuck....Just like that" They both panted aloud, in unison.

Peter couldn't take his eyes off (name) the way she gasped at the delicious friction, the way her hips would push harder into his. Enough was enough he decided to take control of her hips, and set a harsher rhythm. Letting one hand slip from her hips, he brought his index finger to his mouth, teeth grazing the glove's edge as he tugged it loose, letting it fall to the ground between them. As his hand came free, he seized her chin, drawing her into a fiercer, more demanding kiss.

Releasing her grip from the back of Peter's neck, she cupped his face, her fingers grazing beneath the mask that still concealed his nose, eyes, and the rest of his features. For a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, fear gripped him like a vice. His fingers trembled as he released her chin, lurching forward to snatch her wrists. He pressed them between their chests with a desperate urgency, his breath caught in his throat. "No," he growled, his voice dipping low and steady. "The mask stays on." Each word carried quiet authority, leaving no room for argument. "Don't make me web your hands to the wall, because trust me, once that stuff's on, it's not coming off anytime soon." he quipped, his tone low but teasing, the corners of his mouth threatening a sly smile. "Kinky," she breathed with a soft laugh, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Before she could dwell any further on the idea of Spiderman's unexpected kinkiness, he shifted the hand gripping her wrists. The ungloved hand descended toward her panties, its movement deliberate and steady. A breath away from where she truly and utterly needed it most. "Please," she pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation. Peter chuckled, his cheeky smile widening as he leaned closer. 'Say it again,' he murmured, his tone dropped an octave, rich and teasing, as he leaned in, stopping just a breath away from her ear. Panting heavily, her flushed face turned toward him, she managed to gasp, her voice cracking under the weight of her plea, "Please, touch me."

And just like that, the pad of his index finger brushed against her clothed clit, a touch so light it was barely there. And yet, she felt it all the same—electric, unmistakable, A need so overwhelming, it forced another gasp from her lips. "Fuck! You’re not going to break me," she gasped, her breath hitching, the words desperate.

For a fraction of a second Peter grinned mischievously and pressed the pad of his finger further into her covered clit. His head dropped onto her shoulder, a deep, guttural groan escaping him as though he could no longer hold it back - at how damp her lace panties were. He'd made his mind up and surrendered to his baser desires, he deliberately began to coax her clothed core into submission with slow, deliberate strokes. His fingers danced across her sensitive skin in lazy circles, gradually increasing the pressure until she was writhing beneath his touch.

As he continued to tease her with his fingers, the slow, deliberate strokes ignited a fire within her, a flame that grew in intensity with each passing moment. The lazy circles he drew on her skin seemed to awaken a deep-seated hunger, a craving that threatened to consume her. Her body began to writhe and twist, her hips arching into his touch as she sought to increase the pressure, to deepen the sensation.

The fabric of her clothing, once a barrier, now seemed to enhance the experience, the gentle friction of the material against her skin adding an extra layer of sensitivity to the mix. His fingers, deft and skilled, coaxed and cajoled, drawing out a response from her that was both involuntary and irresistible. The pressure he applied, gradual and insistent, pushed her closer to the edge, until she was gasping, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

Strokes grew more insistent, the pressure increasing, she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of sensation, a whirlpool of pleasure that threatened to pull her under. Her legs, once still, now began to tremble, the muscles tensing and relaxing in time with the strokes, as if urging Peter on, begging him to continue. The air around them seemed to vibrate with tension, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric, the gentle gasps of breath, and the pounding of their hearts, all combining to create a sense of anticipation, a sense of expectation, that seemed to build and build, until it was almost unbearable.

"Oh God," [Name] whispered, her voice trembling with need. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Just a little longer," Peter replied, his voice low and husky. "I just… I don’t want this moment to end. You’re—you’re so beautiful."

And then, just as she thought she couldn't take it anymore, Peter's fingers changed rhythm, his touch becoming more urgent, more demanding. But instead of pushing her over the edge, he suddenly pulled his fingers away, leaving her feeling empty and bereft.

She let out a cry of disappointment, but Peter just smiled, his masked eyes narrowing intensity. He brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the sweet nectar that coated them. His eyes closed in rapture as he savoured the flavour, and she could see the realization dawn on him.

Untangled her legs from around his waist, he dropped to his knees, but in a swift and agile motion, he got her right leg over his shoulder on the way down. The movement was so smooth, so fluid, that [Name] barely had time to process what was happening before she found herself in a new and intimate position.

Peter's face was now buried in her pussy, his tongue licking out to taste her as he supported her weight on his shoulder. She felt his hot breath on her, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to drive her wild. Her leg was draped over his shoulder, her foot dangling in the air as he knelt before her, worshiping her with his mouth.

But as he delved deeper, his desire for her became more frenzied. With a swift and savage motion, he ripped her panties down the middle, the fabric tearing apart with a soft rip. [Name] felt a jolt of shock and excitement as the cool air hit her exposed skin, but before she could even process what was happening,

Peter's tongue was back, licking and sucking and probing with even greater intensity. As he continued to devour her, his fingers began to explore, gently probing her entrance before slipping inside. He started with one finger, his index finger, which he slowly inserted into her, feeling her inner walls clench around him. She was tight, but he was patient, taking his time to stretch her out, to prepare her for what was to come.

He began to add more fingers, his middle finger joining his index finger, and then his ring finger, slowly stretching her out until all three fingers were inside her. His fingers curled inside, hitting the spongy tissue that caused her to see stars. She could feel it—an overpowering surge building within, each wave cresting higher, stronger, relentless in its climb toward an inevitable breaking point. And he was her release—this masked hero who currently had her right leg thrown over his shoulder going for gold between her legs.

As he continued to finger her, moving his fingers in and out, in a slow, tantalizing rhythm. His fingers danced inside her, stroking her inner walls, building her pleasure, and driving her wild. With each stroke, he felt her getting closer, her muscles tensing, her breath catching, and he knew that she was on the edge, ready to tumble over into ecstasy.

(Name) couldn’t remember if he’d surfaced for air—he was a starving man, lost in an unrelenting desert, and she, the first drink of water, burned across his senses, igniting something raw and untamed within him. "I could die here, and I wouldn’t even care. This—this is everything" he groaned, his voice thick with passion, His masked eyes narrowed, the expressive lenses contracting as they locked onto hers. His focus was solely on her, and he could see the pleasure and desire reflected back at him, fuelling his own passion and driving him to take her higher.

She broke eye contact, her gaze faltering as she caught sight of her glistening juices clinging to his chin and lips, a sight both distracting and impossible to ignore... Because, damn, was that hot. All she wanted was to run her hands over his head, but that infuriating mask was in the way. "Don't stop," she begged, her head falling back against the rough brick wall, the cold surface grounding her as the moment consumed her entirely. Huffing a quick chuckle, he was back in an instant, his movements swift and deliberate, like a predator closing in on its prey.

And just like that, the brutal onslaught slammed into her, unyielding and merciless, tearing through her with a force that left no escape, no reprieve, only raw, consuming need. God, could this man eat! His tongue swept over her clit in endless, tantalizing licks—a raw display of pure indulgence. His fingers were unyielding as they bullied her G-spot, retreating only to plunge the trio of digits back in with relentless precision, leaving her wondering if she could endure the exquisite torture for much longer.

(Name) could feel the intense, building pressure, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to overwhelm her, and she knew that if he continued, she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer, the anticipation and frustration coalescing into a desperate, aching need that begged for just one more touch, one more twirl of his tongue, to send her tumbling over the edge. And just like that, the taut thread of her control snapped, releasing a torrent of pent-up pleasure as her body surrendered to the overwhelming sensation, the dam breaking in a rush of ecstasy that left her shattered,

Peter felt her hand clasp the back of his mask as her back arched, a breathy "Oh~ Oh~, I'm," Her head was flung back, the tendons in her neck straining as her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth agape in a soundless scream, the only sign of her ecstasy a faint, keening gasp that escaped her parted lips. She had no need to announce her climax, for he could sense it in the way her core clamped down around his hand, the right one trembling violently over his shoulder as her body convulsed, and the sudden, silky rush of her cum on his tongue, a primal, instinctual knowledge that sparked a corresponding surge of pride within him.

Coming down from her high, gasps and shallow breaths spilling from her parted lips, she felt an overwhelming urge to tug away the mask of the man kneeling before her. She wanted to see him—not as the faceless figure in the suit, but as the person beneath.

Peter’s Spider-Sense tingled, and his reflexes kicked in. He felt it—the subtle tightening of her hand at the back of his head, the faint tug that followed. Adrenaline surged through him, and his left hand instinctively moved, smacking softly against the wrist of her right hand.

A splat echoed, and her right hand froze in place—she couldn’t move it. Did he? No… he had! He’d done exactly what he’d warned about, webbing her hand firmly to the wall. Lowering her leg from his shoulder, he wiped his chin and lips with his uncovered hand - succumbing to the irresistible urge to lick his fingers.

Despite having just been nestled between her thighs, his fingers still slick with the remnants of her climax, Peter couldn't resist the urge to bring them to his lips, and as he sucked the fingers that had just been inside her, he let out a low, throaty groan, the sound vibrating through the air as he savoured the taste of her, his eyes closing in rapture as he indulged in her flavour. "I told you—the mask stays on."

She wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t—not after the performance. The low, husky tone of his voice, the gentle rumble of his words, and the unmistakable bulge in his pants, all combined to send a pulse of heat straight back to her core, reigniting the embers of her desire and making her feel like she was being pulled under again.

She struggled to pull her wrist free from the webbing that bound her to the wall. "The more you struggle, the tighter it’ll hold you to the wall," he said, his tongue flicking out to brush against his bottom lip. "What?" she gasped, her chest heaving, her breasts straining against the sweetheart neckline as she looked at him bewildered. Noticing the way the eyes of his mask narrowed, his head dipping slightly downward, and the faint, almost hesitant curve of an awkward smile on his lips. "Up here," she called out to him, all traces of nervousness and embarrassment tossed to the wind as she pointed to her eyes.

His head snapped toward her, only to dart away just as quickly. In an instant, he stood at his full height as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice slipped into his ear, calm but urgent: 'There’s a robbery happening right now at Artisan and Carat in Midtown Manhattan—seven heavily armed suspects, three hostages.' He bent down, retrieving his discarded glove with practiced ease, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice chimed in once more, her tone still measured but tinged with urgency. 'If you leave now, estimated arrival is approximately ten minutes. Casualty risk remains low, but it’s increasing,' she informed him crisply. As she spoke, a video feed patched through to his mask’s holographic interface, displaying live footage of the robbers inside the store. His jaw tightened as he took in the scene—the heavily armed suspects pacing, their movements erratic, and the hostages cowering in fear.

She wondered what had caused the sudden shift in his demeanor. One moment, he had been looking at her with that awkward, almost endearing smile, and the next, he was tense and poised, as if ready to spring into action. Her thoughts were interrupted as he reached for the glove on the ground, sliding it back onto his hand with a practiced efficiency. The motion only added to the growing sense that something unseen was pulling him away, his focus no longer on her but on some urgent, invisible call.

He glanced at her, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features as he struggled with the decision. The need to tell her what was happening warred with the urgency to act, to save the hostages before it was too late.

She watched as he adjusted the mask, the transformation so swift it left her breathless. In an instant, he was Spider-Man again—an untouchable figure, every trace of vulnerability buried beneath the red-and-blue façade. Yet, she knew something had shifted. She didn’t need to hear the words to feel the weight of them; the urgency radiating from him was undeniable. Whatever had happened, it was pulling him away.

Peter hesitated, torn by the fear that the woman he'd shared such an intimate moment with might think he had used her. Yet, as F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice punctuated the seconds with time estimates and escalating risks, he knew he had no choice but to act.

Backing into the alley, Peter’s voice came in a rush, tumbling over itself. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" The words left his mouth so quickly, they almost blurred together.

Without waiting for a response—or even checking if she listened—he shot a webline and launched himself forward. The pull of the swing was immediate, his grip tightening as he zipped up and away. The city blurred beneath him, a streak of light and sound.

“Peter,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. snapped in his earpiece, her tone clipped. “You’re three blocks off course. Redirect immediately.”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!” he shouted back, adjusting his trajectory mid-swing. His breath was quick, his heart racing as the sharp whistle of wind roared in his ears.

Behind him, her faint voice reached him for just a moment—a fleeting sound he couldn’t make out before the city swallowed it whole. It lingered in his mind, though, even as F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s next instruction pierced the chaos.

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She watched as he backed into the alley, the weight of his words hitting her like a blow. "The web’s gonna dissolve! Like, really soon! Stop struggling, you’re only gonna make it worse!" he called out, his voice sharp and hurried. Panic welled up inside her as she saw the decision he'd already made.

Before she could stop him, he sprang into action, launching himself forward. His web shot out, anchoring to a building, and in a heartbeat, he was gone—soaring through the night sky, the city swallowing him up. Desperation clawed at her throat, and she shouted after him, her voice breaking, "Wait! Don’t leave me like this!"

The cold reality hit her like a wave—she was trapped. Lace panties ripped and discarded pinned to the wall of the alley behind her apartment complex, she struggled against the sticky web, but it held firm. Her eyes darted to her purse, lying just out of reach on the ground. Panic crept in as she thought of everything inside—her phone, her keys—everything she needed to free herself or call for help.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, steadying the panic that threatened to consume her. The sticky web anchored her firmly to the wall, leaving her helpless but determined to keep calm. Her gaze landed on her purse, lying just out of reach, and a flicker of frustration crept in.

"Spider-Man," she murmured softly, almost to herself, her voice tinged more with disbelief than anger. A faint ache settled in her chest—not from the web, but from the realization that he had left her here, pinned and powerless, without so much as a second glance. She shifted her weight, trying to slide down the wall, but the web’s grip made even that a struggle, her pinned hand rendering the effort awkward and futile.

The sting of his absence was sharper than the situation itself. Only moments ago, they'd shared something so raw, so vulnerable, and yet he'd left her here, tangled in this mess without a word of explanation. Did it mean nothing to him? The thought gnawed at her, a hollow ache twisting in her chest. She had trusted him, let him in—and now, she was abandoned and alone.

The weight of it settled over her, sharp and unrelenting. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill, her chest stinging as the reality sank in. She’d been the one to kiss him first, to close the distance between them—but she had thought it meant something more. The way he had taken off, leaving her pinned and alone, stung in a way she hadn’t expected.

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she steadied her breathing, forcing herself to push the hurt aside. Once she was free, that would be it. Spider-Man could swing off into the night for all she cared. She wouldn’t think about him again—not his voice, not his touch, not the way he’d made her feel, if only for a moment.

He didn’t deserve it.

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Well... If you got this far then I guess you've finished the first part, and all I want to say is "What did you think?" 😊😳

sorry for any mistakes!

XOXO

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