#his part was heaven in that advertisment what

[dalishious]

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.

[wrilo]

Uh

Kinger singing real ‼️⁉️

I still can’t do backgrounds but I’m TRYING PLEASEEEEE

Def based off the ad for their plushies (his part was so so good)

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[callmerainman]

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»

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 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.

[lacedinweb22]

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

[drconstellation]

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."

[glorismorningstar]

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꒱ ‧₊˚

˚₊‧ ꒰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

[radioisntdead]

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

[prince-liest]

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?

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

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

[fluentmoviequoter]

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.”

[deirdreskye]

Commercial I would produce as an advertising executive:

We see a husband approach his wife in the kitchen and he smacks her on the rear as she's unplugging a crockpot full of buffalo chicken dip. Their friends have turned the dining room table into beer pong tournament and the kids are laughing in the play room. It's Super Bowl Sunday.

This scene of domestic bliss plays out before us. Warm laughter, excited shouting as their team scores a touchdown, the wife steals a kiss from her husband between sips of wine. This must be what heaven looks like.

The doorbell rings and the husband grudgingly puts his beer down to go answer the door. Who could it be?

He opens the door and we see the latecomer: a giant slug the size of a man, wet and pink and undulating.

"You son of a bitch!" The husband exclaims. "We didn't think you'd make it! How the hell are ya?"

The slug gives no reply but the husband brings the creature into a warm embrace, its viscous discharge soaking his shirt. "Aw, hell, man," he laughs. "Say it, don't spray it!"

The slug makes its grand arrival in the living room, leaving a trail of slime on the hardwood floors. It receives a warm welcome. "Here comes trouble!" "They'll let anyone in this place!" "You missed the first quarter!"

We are subjected to a montage of scenes from the Superbowl party.

-

The kids excitedly dash in to crowd around the creature. "Mr. Wormy! We missed you!" they exclaim, hugging the thing and getting covered in its ooze. Several orifices around the creature's body begin to secrete a dark, chunky substance and the children begin to greedily eat it, their hands and mouths covered in its oily residue

"Whoa whoa whoa, I didn't raise you kids in a barn!" The mother says. "Go get some cups from the kitchen!"

-

"Yo, Mr. Wormy, you gotta try the buffalo chicken dip. It's to die for!" The husband says. He grabs a dripping handful of the warm orange cream cheese from the crockpot and pushes it into the folds of the creature's flesh.

"Quit bogarting the buff dip, hombre!" "Save some for the rest of us why don't ya?"

-

"Yo, Mr. W, I gotta use the can but I am NOT missing the game. Help me out?"

A sphincter at the top of the slug's "head" gapes itself open, and the guest drops his slacks and boxers to his ankles and climbs on top in front of everyone.

"Hoochie mama, that dip's even spicier coming out!"

"Just don't leave the seat up. Trust me, you'll thank me for that one when you and Stacy get married!"

"IF they get married, you mean!"

A loud belch is heard from the creature and the room explodes with laughter.

-

"Alright fellas, the game is over and the kids are in bed. I think we all know what this means!"

"Oh brother," the wife says, rolling her eyes at the other women. "Boys will be boys!"

The men are seen chanting "Wormy! Wormy! Wormy!" at each other as they take turns fucking the folds and sphincters and orifices that line the creature's body.

"Ah geez, Mr. W! Warn me before I fuck a hole with a gizzard stone!"

"Now THAT'S tight! I think my wife could learn a thing or two from you, Mr. Wormy!"

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we used to call Chet the Two Pump Chump!"

-

As the party is winding down, the men are putting their clothes back on, saying their farewells and getting ready to part ways when the creature starts to heave and convulse.

"You okay, Mr. Wormy?"

Everyone looks on as the creature heaves one last time and a copious amount of murky amniotic fluid begins to pour from one of the creature's holes. The sphincter begins to crown and a human baby is deposited onto the carpet. It has an adult-sized head and the face looks exactly like the husband, goatee and all. It's not moving.

The husband nervously tugs his collar. One of his friends calls out, "Check please!"

The wife comes back from the kitchen holding a roll of Brawny paper towels, a playfully annoyed expression on her face.

It's not a good party if things don't get a little messy. Brawny's got you covered.

[anime-owo-kage-san]

Please, let me indulge in these thoughts for a while.

But, what if Charlie thinks of writing a play for the hotel to perform? Maybe a play about redemption, and within the play has a sinner transform into an angel after getting redeemed.

At first she asks Vaggie to play the sinner to angel part, because she already has angel wings. But, Vaggie insists maybe Angel Dust should play the role, since he’s the hotel’s first (and only, if we’re talking ‘post-canon’) guest.

Charlie over excitedly agrees, before Angel could even have his say and starts sketching out his ‘angel costume’.

Angel Dust doesn’t know why, but one look at the costume design made him feel a little self-conscious. Which is weird because he never gets self-conscious! (Unless it comes to his feet.)

But then again, after all the sexy, skimpy and lacey clothes he’s worn, wearing an angel costume that Charlie designed to be so flowy and stereotypically pure white (an exaggeration to what the angels they’ve seen actually wore) and the fluffy wings—made him strangely… ‘undeserving’ of the role.

The idea of wearing this on stage, in front of everyone, after being known as a pornstar all his afterlife, makes him feel like he’ll just be mocked from the irony.

Phone Call Scenario In My Head:

Angel: *just finished a porno shoot and in the middle of putting on his robe*

*phone starts ringing on a desk away from him*

Random guy: “Uh, Angel… Your phone’s ringing…”

Angel: “Put it on speaker, for me. It’s probably just Cherri again.” *still tying his robe*

Random guy: *picks up phone and puts it on speaker*

(Through the phone) Charlie: “ANGEEEL!!!”

Angel: *turns his head* Charlie…?

Valentino: *eyes narrowed, bc he’s still pissed about last time*

Charlie: “I’m. So. FUCKING EXCITED FOR THE SHOW TONIGHT! You’ll be on time for rehearsal, right? You’re the STAR after all!” *squeals*

Angel: *suddenly remembers the show and his face slowly turns pink* “U-Uh yeah…. Don’t worry, I-I just finished up work… I’ll be there….”

Valentino: *raises his brow at Angel* “Show…?”

Charlie: “Okay! Oooh! I can’t wait to see you in the costume! It’s finally finished! Please, come back as soon as possible so we can see how it looks on you!” *definitely jumping up and down on the other side*

Angel: *tries to hide how weirdly shy he feels* “Pssh! Doll face, I’ll look good in anything! I…. I’ll be there…”

Charlie: “Okay! See you later!”

(Call ends)

Valentino: *makes his way to Angel while smirking* “Well! It looks like this hotel you’re staying at isn’t as ‘clean’ as the princess, makes it sound.”

Angel: *looks at him confused* “The fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Valentino: “Oh, you know… That flustered look on your face, says it all! You’re not one to be embarrassed though, amorcito. Pray tell, how sexy is this costume of yours, that even you couldn’t help but flush?”

Angel: *only half paying attention, still thinking about the costume and embarrassed* “It’s…. not, anything like that. Look, I’m done with work. I’m just gonna go.”

Angel: *grabs his phone and leaves before Val can say anything*

Valentino: “Dumb whore. Performing shows somewhere else.”

So, sinners come to watch the show, after seeing Alastor’s advertisement of it —Which didn’t give anyone much context. All they knew was that Angel Dust was performing a show at the hotel, and the show was free!

Valentino shows up just to be a ‘porn critic’, because like everyone else, he still thinks it that type of show.

Angel Dust, who was peaking at the audience backstage gets more nervous, and hides in the dressing room. He was already wearing the costume, but he doesn’t want anyone to see him wearing it.

Sprinkle some Huskerdust into this; Husk is the one who convinces Angel to come out, and build his confidence back up. (Maybe some cheesy, wholesome words about how despite being in hell, he’s “Hell’s only angel, for him —didn’t think this far).

Angel: *peaks his head out the door* “What about Flat Tits?”

Husk: “That doesn’t count. She was from heaven. So for me, you are hell’s angel…”

Angel: “What about Charlie’s da—”

Husk: “Christ! Would you get out here already. Before I stop attempting to compliment you.”

Angel: *laughs lightly* “Yeah, okay. Sorry…”

And the show goes on. Sure, just like Angel expected, the majority of the audience were commenting on the choice of his role. But, he didn’t care anymore. Whenever he looks to the side and sees Husk giving him a supportive smile, he regains confidence and continues on with the play.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part six)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.2k summary: moving on is not as easy as it may seem. unless, of course, revenge is in the mix.

a/n: this chapter also features steve harrington x popstar!fem!reader

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / very little comfort, minor use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Falling in love was not nearly as magical as you grew up to believe. 

Turns out, not everyone is as lucky as your parents. Not everyone gets to find the person they want to be with and just live out the rest of their time together, just like that. No muss, no fuss… no pain.

And recently, all you’ve felt was pain. 

Heartbreak caused by the man that’s done it before. You should’ve been smarter than to let him do it a second time, but lost in the chocolate of his eyes and the softness of his skin, you believed in the love you so desperately craved since you were a kid. You believed in his love. Believed he wouldn’t hurt you again, simply because he promised he wouldn’t. Hushed mantras in between the kisses he trailed along your jawline. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been,” he’d repeat like a prayer. In reality, a fool is what he made you.

For the whole world to see at that.

ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST

EVEN HONESTY COULDN’T KEEP THEM TOGETHER

WHY HEAVEN AND HELL DON’T MIX

The list of borderline patronising, and also rather sexist, articles on the downfall of your short-lived relationship with the Corroded Coffin frontman haunted you for months. It didn’t help that they were all lies. Figments of journalistic imagination that only had one thing in common: you were nothing but a lovesick girl, and Eddie ever the conqueror of Hollywood’s elite. Gone was the title of America’s favourite popstar. Replaced instead by “Oh, you’re Eddie Munsons ex, right?”.

Your management team was scrambling to get out of this PR nightmare as quickly and effortlessly as humanly possible, because they didn’t grow your career to the superstardom level it was at, only for you to be regarded as an ex-girlfriend of someone far less popular than you. The team did everything, from pushing brand advertising campaigns forward, releasing a previously stashed single with no promotion, and even faking sightings of you with New York’s most eligible bachelors — (it was actually Val in disguise, more than willing to help). 

While all of this was going on, you resigned to rotting away in bed.

The New York apartment you called home yet again, was cold in comparison to Eddie’s mansion. Every item of furniture, every decorative piece, all carefully picked out by you back when you first bought the place, seemed out of place. No longer bringing you the intended joy. You missed the blank walls of Eddie’s living room, the feel of the hardwood floors underneath your bare feet, the once unused kitchen, his display of vintage guitars. You missed his California King. Missed the way it would form perfectly around your frame every time your head hit the pillows. Most of all, despite desperately trying not to, you fucking missed him.

Eddie Munson was your downfall, yet every fibre of your being ached to be close to him once more.

Memories of your time with the metalhead flashed before your eyes every minute of every day that’s passed since he stomped all over your heart, making it bleed. What made matters worse, you were convinced Eddie didn’t miss you, didn’t think about you nearly as much as you thought about him, if even at all.

The reality couldn’t have been more different, but you didn’t know that because the morning Eddie broke you for a second time, his actions were accompanied by a conscious decision to stay out of your life for good. It wasn’t what he wanted. He just didn’t see an alternative, your grandmother’s threat ringing in his ears as the look on your face visibly changed in front of his very eyes from awe to despair.

In the months that followed the split, Eddie also thought about you all the damn time. 

Everywhere he went, there you were. Or rather the ghost of you. A memory so vivid, he instantly felt nauseous. He screwed everything up for a second time and even if he wanted to somehow fix it, he knew the only way to do that would be by telling the truth, but even Eddie Munson wasn't an asshole enough to come between a girl and her Nana — no matter how evil the old hag was.

Instead, Eddie focused on his music. 

The resounding success that was Honesty, a song about you, performed with you, made the pretext of spending day and night at the studio a little more realistic ‘cause “the band needs a few more songs to complete the album”, he’d say to Marianne. She knew the real reason behind the hours Eddie spent locked inside the recording booth was the sudden, and by all accounts, unexplained breakdown of his relationship with you. She also knew not to say anything.

By all accounts, things were going quite smoothly for Eddie. Sure he felt like a fucking prick for hurting you the way he did — yet again — and on most days, the guilt was eating Eddie alive, but his actions, and their unfortunate consequences, fueled an endless supply of songs he couldn’t deny were about you. Songs that would undoubtedly make the album the best thing Corroded Coffin have ever released. Shit. Did that also make him selfish? He wondered if it was fair that his creativity blossomed while you were hurting. He wondered if profiting off this heartache was the right thing to do. Would it make you more mad? Would it break you even more?

Then he saw it.

MISS AMERICANA MOVES ON 

What the fuck.

-

“Did you forget that you promised to come help me shop for dresses?”

You groan at Val’s question, pulling the blankets over your head until your face is entirely hidden and a faint darkness envelops around you. This is your safe space now. This is where you wish you could stay for all eternity, but alas, the universe always seems to have other plans.

“Val,” you mumble under your breath, “I say this with all sincerity, please fuck off. I’m clearly in no shape to hold up to my promise, so just take my credit card and ask a friend to go with you instead. Please.”

She huffs, and even though you can’t see her, you know she’s rolling her eyes. Then, without skipping a beat, she does the exact opposite to what you asked her to do, opting to yank the covers off you entirely with a wicked grin. 

“I am done letting you wither away, okay?” She states, “It’s been months of self-pity and I��m fucking sick of it. Everyone is sick of it. Jesus, he broke your heart, big deal. People get their heart broken all the damn time and you don’t see them wasting away in bed.”

“Because they don’t have the privilege to.” 

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Nana calls you an ungrateful brat all the time, behind your back of course. I think you just proved her point.”

The sting of Val’s words causes you to visibly grimace, but you can’t say you didn’t deserve her hostile push back. You were acting like a brat. Saying the wrong things in the heat of the moment, you knew better than that. You were taught better than that. Just like you were also taught to uphold your promises, keep your word and do the things you said you would do. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you stand, and for the first time in months, you go get dressed in something that’s not an overpriced pyjama set. Val cheers you on, proud of  herself for being the person that could convince you to leave the confines of your apartment, even if it was only for one afternoon.

Fifth Avenue is a Manhattan staple. Stretching from Greenwich Village, where you grew up, all the way to Harlem, a secret favourite, if anyone ever asked. Personally, you opted to steer clear of Fifth Avenue as much as you could, though, being one of the most expensive shopping streets in the world, it made sense this is where Val asked Hank to escort you two. Especially, since after hours of browsing stores your little sister normally couldn’t afford on her own, your journey’s end is Saks.

“Tell me again why we’re dress shopping? You hate dresses.”

“Because, since you’ve pretty much turned yourself into a recluse, Nana asked me to join her at the upcoming charity function she’s throwing. Her one demand was that I need a dress.” Val explains, browsing through a carefully crafted selection of garments. “Preferably expensive.”

“She didn’t say anything to me,” you say, furrowing your brows.

“Like I said, recluse.”

You sigh. Nails, overdue a manicure, now at the brim of your lips, threatening to push through at any given moment. It was a bad habit. Something you’ve recently done a lot because speaking your mind clearly wasn’t good enough and only led to misfortune. This was the only way you could ease the anxiety surrounding the mess you’ve made of your life, as gross as it was.

“Well, I didn’t want Nana, or anyone else for that matter, saying I told you so, or thinking I had it coming since apparently I was the only person that had blinders on when it came to…”

His name got stuck in your throat like a bad apple. A choking hazard that brought tears to your eyes and caused your chest to heave suddenly with bated breaths. Clearly, you hadn’t gotten over him, otherwise you wouldn’t spend your days locked up in your apartment. What you didn’t realise though, was that you hadn’t said his name out loud since that fateful morning in his kitchen.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

The vile tone behind those three words rings in your ears. Of course he deserved it then, there’s no denying that. He still deserves it today. If you were ever to see him at any Hollywood function, you’d either ignore his presence entirely or greet him the same exact way you said your goodbye: “Fuck you, Eddie.”. But for a split second, you feel sad that this is the way you remember his name on your tongue.

“We wouldn’t have made you feel worse, sis.” Val says, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “What do you think of this one?” She proceeds to steer you further away from your deprecating thoughts by holding up a simple red dress. Single strap, maxi length. Exactly the opposite of her usual style, primarily because it was a dress and Val always said she’d rather be caught dead than wearing something designed to limit her movements.

“It’s gorgeous,” you compliment, “Exactly your style.”

If she detected your tiny, white lie, she didn’t say anything. Although, judging by the elated look on her face, no one's opinion really mattered anyway. Not even the one she asked for. The one from her famous older sister.

“It really is, isn’t it? I’m gonna try it on.”

Wanting to see your genuine reaction to her wearing the garment, Val asks you to momentarily join Hank, and wait outside the private dressing suite. You giggle at her, missing the fact that this was the first genuine laugh you let out since Los Angeles, and step outside the heavy door without protest.

Hank greets you with a tight lipped smile, but doesn’t say anything. He never does. You liked that about him, especially considering everyone else in your life always had too much to say. Hank’s silence was like a breath of fresh air. However, unknown to you yet, this time, Hank should have been talking, saying literally anything, repeating any old story, ‘cause then, his deep voice would mask what unfortunately catches your attention next.

It’s not really a squeal, not really a groan either. It’s honestly not really any distinct sound, just something that echoes down the hall, reaching your ears and causing Hank to stop the tune he was quietly humming. Both your heads snap in the direction of the noise, just in case it is something you should worry about, like a paparazzo that somehow snuck in, despite the heavy Saks security. Unfortunately for you, the person that comes rushing around the corner is a lot worse than any ol’ shutterbug.

Suddenly, at the end of the hallway, in all her redheaded glory, appears Max Mayfield.

Recognition feigns across her features as her movements come to a halt the second she sees you perched up against the corridor wall. Her mouth parts in shock, proving that she’s clearly just as surprised to see you here. 

Having never officially met, Max still knew exactly who you were. And not because of your fame, the articles about you and her brother. No. Judging by the look in her piercing eyes, Max knew you more intimately. She knew you from the stories that fell directly from Eddie’s lips. She knew details of your relationship that were kept secret from the public. Hell, she might’ve even known more than you.

You don’t get to ask her though. You don’t even get to say ‘hello’ because she glances behind her shoulder, your gaze following just as quickly. Holy shit, you think, knees now wobbling underneath you. If Eddie walks around that corner you might… Well, frankly, you don’t know how you’d react. You also didn’t really want to find out. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

So your fingers reach for the door handle and you’re just about to push it open, retreat back inside, when the person that’s with Max comes into view.

The disappointment that briefly rushes through you is unmatched. Even if you didn’t really want to see the rockstar, you still wished he was actually here. Instead, you’re now face to face with another brunette with hair just as wild as Eddie’s. Only his attire is different. The suit that’s perfectly tailored to his slender frame is also undoubtedly expensive. Armani, you notice.

“Jesus, when will you learn not to—”

He sees you then. The same exact look that Max is currently sporting spreads across his sharp features, so he must know you too. Difference being, you don’t know him.

“Oh shit. Sorry. We, eh, we were told no one was here.” He apologises, glancing between you and Hank, who’s posture is proper. Intimidating.

You step out in front of your bodyguard. An unspoken signal that says he doesn’t need to tell these people to get lost just yet. 

“That’s okay,” you reply to the stranger, quickly weighing your options in terms of what the next words to spill from your lips should be. One more glance in Max’s direction solidifies your decision. If her brother is going to repeatedly break your heart and get away with it, you’re going to play dumb and pretend he didn’t really matter to you.

With a polite smile and a swift extension of your hand, you introduce yourself. First to the mystery man, then to Max. The redhead is slightly more apprehensive about the hand shake, but she takes your extended fingers in hers regardless before saying her own name, as if you didn’t already know it.

The guy you now know as Steve clears his throat. 

“We’ll come back.” It’s simple. Meant to ease the awkwardness since the three of you clearly knew what — or rather, who — you had in common, but none of you seems willing to say the name aloud first.

“That’s okay,” you repeat, “Stay. We’re nearly finished anyway.”

And right on queue, Val calls your name from inside the private dressing room. You excuse yourself, leaving the two to exchange a knowing glance, and a whisper, undoubtedly about what they should do next.

Val, of course, looks breathtaking in the dress she picked out. Hand on your heart, you stare at your little sister in awe, wondering, probably for the first time ever, when the hell did she grow up so fast. And it’s an odd feeling that spreads through you. Pushing down the heartbreak momentarily, is melancholy for all the time you lost with your siblings because you were too busy being a star. It brings tears to your eyes, but you push them down quickly since you’ve been called dramatic enough for one day, and right now, it was all about Valentine.

“I think I understand why you’re always wearing skirts and dresses,” she says, spinning in front of the large mirror with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like a fucking princess.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips. You agree with her sentiment, then add, “You look like mom.” Meaning it as the highest of compliments and her eyes twinkle at your words. 

“She’s going to love this dress.”

You nod. “She’s going to love you in this dress.”

It’s decided, just like that. The dress is being bought and Val thanks you ten times over for offering to pay for it, along with a pair of Louboutins to compliment it. You tell her it’s the least you can do for finally getting you out of bed, then you tell her that you’re glad you did this together — biting your tongue when it came to the apology for missing so many key moments in her life, because again, this moment was about her, not about the guilt you suddenly felt for focusing too much on your career and too little on your family.

Using the phone inside the private dressing room, Val calls for one of the Sales Assistants to come up, and while you two wait, you leave her again to get redressed in her normal clothes. 

Max and Steve are gone. 

That’s the first thing you notice when stepping back into the corridor. Hank doesn’t say anything as to their departure, unsurprisingly. He does, however, hand you a receipt from a nearby coffee shop. There’s scribbles on the back of it: ‘MEET ME’, along with an address in Brooklyn.

“From the redheaded girl,” Hank admits.

-

Max Mayfield has tolerated a lot of shitty behaviour in her lifetime.

The list of people that hurt her, and the people closest to her, was quite long, especially for a twenty-something year old. But her upbringing had a lot more downs than ups, and because of that, for the longest time, Max considered herself to be the most unlucky person on the planet. So she blamed the people around her for it, because how else is a kid supposed to judge universal injustice?

To this day, she remembers every single individual that has wronged her in any way, along with the associated place, and most importantly, the how. Max was never entirely sure what she’d do with that information, but she stored it at the back of her mind regardless — hence her thick skin and inability to tolerate any sort of bullshit. 

Which is why it sucks ten times more when it is the people close to her doing the hurting, with no rhyme nor reason.

If Eddie asked, that’s why she left you her address. If Eddie asked, that’s why she wanted to talk to you. He did the hurting. Then he spewed bullshit as to why he ended things with you. Max didn’t believe any of it. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t believe it.

“I think she’s the love of my life,” Eddie announced one day, out of the blue. 

He called Max every Tuesday, when it hit four in the afternoon for him. Usually, the two of them talked about Max’s adventures in New York. How she’s doing with her studies, what she’s been up to with her friends (old and new), and if Sinclair has been driving her crazy, which he usually is. The odd time, Eddie would drop in some details about his whirlwind of a life, though he never talked about dating.

That is, until her older brother met you.

Then he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Max liked this side of Eddie. A truly happy Eddie. And the redhead knows, better than anyone, the rockstar hasn’t been truly happy in all the years he’s been in a set presence in her life.

So to say she was surprised when the news broke, NO MORE SWEETHEART FOR EDDIE MUNSON, would be a vast understatement.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Max questioned her brother.

“Nothing,” Eddie answered plainly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “turns out she wasn’t anything special.”

“Eddie,” Max breathed, “you’re acting like a prick.”

She heard a sigh on the other line. Defeated. A little annoyed. Maybe even… sad?

“Whatever,” he brushed the comment off. “Listen, Red, I really don’t wanna talk about this, ‘cause if I did, I would’ve told you it ended myself.”

“That’s another problem I have—”

“Let’s not, okay?” Eddie snapped. “I really don’t wanna deal with shit from you, on top of everyone else, okay? We were never a real item, so it’s not a big deal.”

Max dropped it then and she swore she’d never bring it up again, but then, she bumped into you. She imagined meeting you many times over. The girl that made her brother happy. She wanted to know that girl. She wanted to thank her.

When it all went to hell, Max thought she’d never get the chance. Especially since, seemingly, you seemed okay with the downfall of your relationship with Eddie, spotted out on dates all over New York City. For a brief moment, Max let herself hate you. Clearly, you weren’t upset, which means, clearly, you didn’t care about Eddie nearly as much as he would have believed.

But then she saw you.

Max noticed how your face twitched with recognition the second your eyes locked together, how your hands shook slightly when Max looked behind her shoulder, the brief disappointment when it wasn’t Eddie who came around the corner, and how you tried to plaster on a pristine smile when you introduced yourself.

And now that she saw you, one thing was clear. Eddie hurt your feelings. He may have even broken your heart. That sort of behaviour, Max couldn’t stand for.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say with a delicate smile.

Your moves are apprehensive when Max further pushes her apartment door open, allowing you into her home. She leads you down the long hallway and offers up the couch for you to sit, while she steps towards the kitchen cabinets to grab a couple of wine glasses. 

In the time that Max opens up a bottle of Cabernet, you allow yourself to glance around the space. The furniture is all mismatched, definitely vintage, probably thrifted. There’s a fireplace, but you think it must be disconnected since instead it houses cream-coloured candles, all of different burn degrees. Otherwise, the decor is minimal, and it makes you think of Eddie and the empty walls of his Los Angeles mansion.

Though there is one prime feature. A framed Corroded Coffin poster, signed by all the members.

A faint smile circles your lips as you trail the details of the image. Though you haven’t been a fan before, having dated Eddie for a couple of months, you now knew the poster was from their first headline tour. The poor scribbles on an old photo, something that could one day be worth thousands. You’re sure though, that to Max, the value of this is priceless.

So your nerves bubble to the surface. Your leg starts to bounce, thumb back at your lips as you stare at the poster in front of you. The question of why exactly Max asked you to meet has been circling your mind ever since Hank handed you the address. It’s only intensified now that you are here. Now that you are looking at an A3 print of the brunette rockstar in his sister’s apartment. The guy that, despite your best efforts, you still cared for quite deeply.

“Here you go,” Max hails you back to reality by handing you a glass of wine. “It’s nothing fancy though, I eh, don’t usually host celebrities,” she tries to joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say and take the drink out of her grasp. “I-I actually prefer the cheaper stuff. Keeps me rich,” you try to joke.

Max seems to like your efforts ‘cause she huffs out a laugh while making herself comfortable on the armchair to your right.

“If only my idiotic brother carried the same principles as you,” she says. And just like that, the air is tense again. Your attempt at a joke is turned into an uncomfortable reminder of what the two of you have in common, and the reason for why you’re here tonight.

There’s a brief moment of slightly awkward silence. Then Max sighs softly.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.”

Max smiles, it’s small, yet genuine. 

“Look, Eddie has never been one for chatting about feelings. That’s one of the things we actually have in common, which is probably why we’ve always gotten along so well.” She pauses.

“Full transparency, I don’t know what went down between the two of you. All I know is one day, he’s telling me how he’s crazy about you, and the next, I’m reading in the tabloids how it’s over and Eddie’s not willing to give up any reasons why.”

Your face falls momentarily. Something Max picks up on instantly.

“You thought I knew more.”

“That obvious, huh?” You smirk.

“Just a little.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“I’ll be the first to say that Eddie can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. Especially recently, when the money started rolling in and apparently no one in Hollywood understands setting boundaries, his ego has grown for sure. But I also know what he’s been through. Hawkins wasn’t the kindest to him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It comes out as a whisper.

“He hurt you,” she’s blunt.

You don’t mean to, but you scoff. “No offence to you, or your brother, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first person he’s hurt, and I certainly won’t be the last, so do you sit down with all his ex-flings?”

Max sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing down momentarily, as she drops her gaze to the wine glass in her grasp. For a moment, you think you came off too bitchy and a little dismissive, after all, she hasn’t made her intentions known yet. Your instinct is to apologise, but then she clears her throat and looks back up at you.

“You’re the only one he’s ever talked about.”

-

“Do you wanna hurt him back?” — Max's question dings in your ears like the alarm bells you should have heard when she first asked it. 

Not now. Not the next night, after you had already agreed to her plan. After the plan was already in motion, you were simply just waiting for the other person to arrive.

Waiting for Steve Harrington.

This was all honestly a little too crazy, but again, you thought so a little too late. You should have been second guessing the idea the second Max presented it to you, like a pretty little gift, wrapped in a big bow known to most as ‘revenge’. Though last night, two bottles of wine in, you would have agreed to anything the redhead said. You did agree to everything ‘cause you realised that she just needed someone to vent her own feelings to, same as you.

She said Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, and she wanted to be sympathetic towards his feelings, but seeing you reminded her, he wasn’t the only person involved in this situation. She needed to talk to you. And honestly, you were glad for the opportunity, hence why you showed up at the scribbled address. Since all you got from your close circle was judgement, it couldn’t hurt to spend time with someone who’d refrain from commenting on how foolish you were.

As the night progressed, so did the topic of conversation.

The two of you had moved on from small talk relating to the person you both knew, and to the real reason Max asked you to come over: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“I-I…” Clearly, the redhead caught you off guard, “Well, I-I haven’t really—”

“If you tell me you haven’t thought about it over the last few months, then I will say you’re full of shit, because no girl of your status gets her heartbroken so publicly, only to let the other person scot free.”

She moved from the armchair and sat back down next to you, then continued, “And I’m not saying this is about your career. It’s about principle. Taking away the fact that Eddie’s my brother, he’s an entitled rockstar who thinks other people’s feelings aren’t as important! Which personally, is just so baffling considering what he went through with Chrissy—”

“Who’s Chrissy?”

Max didn’t really answer your question, though the look in her eyes gave some of it away. Chrissy was, at one point in time, someone very important to Eddie. The name slipped out, you weren’t supposed to know it, that much was definitely clear. And you were smart enough to deduct that Max wasn’t going to tell you much else about this mystery girl, but maybe, whatever she had planned, would allow you to learn it from someone else. Maybe even Eddie himself.

“Okay,” you agreed, “What do you have in mind?”

That’s how you found yourself at Minetta Tavern, fifteen minutes early than agreed with Max ‘cause you knew you’d need a glass of wine before Steve arrived. There was a pit in your stomach. This whole situation was honestly so twisted, even for your standards. But you kept repeating to yourself how it was too late to back out now. Too late to call off this whole thing since the paparazzi you asked  Holly to arrange were already lurking outside.

Steve shows up about ten minutes before the agreed time.

The hostess walks him over to your table and you immediately notice how nervous he seems. He still offers you a charming smile and bends slightly to your level, greeting you with a half-hug. When he sits across from you, he’s quick to order a Jameson on ice, and only when the waiter is out of sight, Steve looks at you.

“Even if this is a fake date, I do have to say, you look really beautiful tonight.”

A timid smile circles your lips at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, Steve. You look rather handsome too.”

“Nah,” he brushes you off with a smirk, “Not to be overly forward, but I’m all sweaty after a whole day’s work. Wanted to change shirts. Ended up running late this morning, so I didn’t take a second one with me. Then I tried to bribe one of my colleagues to give me his spare shirt, so he told me he’d bet me for it with a game of pool, which I clearly lost. It was a whole thing.” Steve dramatises, the smirk ever present. 

“Bet you’re regretting calling me handsome now, huh?”

“Not at all,” you reply honestly, “Actually, surprisingly, quite the opposite.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

And you nod. “Not to be overly forward,” you repeat his earlier sentiment, “But I’ve never been on a date with someone that had a real job.”

Steve laughs. “I just told you I played a game of pool at work to win a clean shirt. That’s a real job to you?”

It’s rather effortless how he makes you laugh too.

“Well, I’m assuming that didn’t take the whole day, so for at least six hours today, you worked, no?”

Still smiling, he bops his head in agreement. “You got me there.”

Celebrating your mini victory, you take a sip of your wine. 

“So, what do you do, Steve?” You ask after the waiter brings over his drink and takes your food orders.

“Wall Street,” he answers plainly.

“Shit,” you reply with a grin, “You’re so right. That’s not a real job.”

When Steve laughs again, you forget why you’re both really here. When he laughs again, the slight shake of his head causing his hair to bounce in compliment, you forget the circumstances surrounding your date. As the night continued, with every spoken word, every little joke and giggle, you end up forgetting a lot of things actually.

You forget to ask Steve why he agreed to do this with you. Forget to ask about Eddie and what their friendship meant to him, since he’s here, acting out a revenge plot. Most importantly, you forget to ask about Chrissy, who she was, and what she really meant to the rockstar.

This fake date with Steve turned into one of the best dates of your young-adult life.

Apparently, you two had a lot in common, more than you could have ever imagined. You both came from families that always lived above the norm, which in itself was a challenge only people from similar backgrounds could understand. Steve had said how the weight of the world was always on his shoulders whenever he was around his parents, and that’s how you felt with your Nana. Nothing was ever good enough, yet you kept trying to impress them regardless. He shared the privilege you’ve always felt, so you bonded. Without ever meaning to.

It wasn’t until after dinner, which Steve paid for, by the way, you remembered the circumstances that brought you here together. He seemed to understand the apprehensive look in your eyes ‘cause he was quick to offer to leave first, before you, and not with you — just in case you had second thoughts — but you just shook your head, Max’s question humming in your ears once again: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“He really hurt me, Steve.”

The brunette nods. “Let’s go then.”

The next morning, Page Six features a spread about you on a date with “a mystery brunette”. In the picture, Steve’s got his arm around you, hugging you close, as the two of you push through the paparazzi to get into his vintage car.

When Steve calls your apartment a few days later, you ask him if he regrets being put on blast like that.

“No,” he answers quickly, “Real or not, I had a really good night with you. Which honestly made me think about all the possible reasons Munson might’ve had to do what he did.”

“What did you come up with?”

“That he’s a fucking idiot. You’re incredible.”

You damn well know he can picture the smile you’re sporting right now as you wrap the cord around your wrist, like a little school girl talking to her crush. If your Nana saw, she’d tell you to snap out of it. Although, unlike Eddie, Steve was exactly the type of guy she’d want you to end up with.

Intelligent, charming, kind — and those were just the qualities you learned in a single night. The more you thought about your not-so-fake date, the more you found yourself wanting to learn even more about the handsome brunette.

There were just a couple of other questions you needed to get out of the way before you asked Steve out on a real date. Things you should’ve asked the first time around, instead of getting caught up in the moment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If Eddie’s your friend, why did you agree to Max’s plan?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Albeit, very  brief.

“I guess the same reason Red even put this in motion in the first place.”

“Chrissy?”

You can hear him sigh into the receiver, but you don’t get to actually hear him confirm it, or ask any of the follow ups you should have actually asked him during your date, because there’s a knock on your door. Then again, only louder, more intense.

“Steve, I gotta call you back,” you say, attention now focused on whoever it was that’s on the other side of your front door and the eagerness behind their knocks.

“Sure thing, darling. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, someone’s just at my door. I’ll call you in a couple minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, “Speak in a few.” 

The next thing you hear are three beeps, so you hurry to put the phone back before approaching your front door. You don’t really think to check who it might be through the peephole, since there’s only a limited number of people that would get past your doorman with no prior notice. That was a mistake.

On the other side of your apartment door, drenched from the September rain, stood none other than Corroded Coffin frontman himself, Mr Eddie Munson.

Your mouth parts slightly in shock as Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, meeting your wide gaze. He tries to smile, though the corners of his lips don’t really move that far upward.

And you’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, just looking at one another. It’s only when one of your neighbours comes out of their apartment, into the shared corridor, that you snap out of whatever spell you had found yourself under.

The panic sets in. 

He’s actually here. Eddie is standing in front of you. Now, Mrs McAllister has seen him, and she’s got a big mouth, yapping to the ladies at bingo about all your activities, gossip that somehow always travels back to your Nana — the last person you needed on your case, again.

So without really thinking, you slam the door shut.

Right in Eddie’s face.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

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& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Seven}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

I knocked gently at Charlie's office door, when I heard her voice telling me to come in, I opened the door and stepped inside. Vaggie was at her girlfriend's side, as Charlie sat in her desk chair. She looked away from Vaggie to focus on me, offering me a kind smile before speaking. "Hi again Y/n. How did your day go?" She asks. I rubbed my arm awkwardly as I stepped closer to her desk. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

Charlie sits up a bit more straight in her chair. "Did things not go well?" She asks, concern lacing her tone. I shrug and give a small smile. "Not really. But uh, I was wondering if I could put my good deeds to work around here at the hotel. I'd like to offer my help in anyway I can, if it means bettering the hotel and getting me into heaven." 

Charlie blinked before her grin returned to her face. "That's so nice! Now that you mention it, there is a few things I could use a little extra help with." She stands from her desk and walks over to me. "Advertisement has always been an issue for this hotel. My first attempt was uh...less than adequate." She says with a sigh. "And as you can tell, this hotel can use a bit of cleaning. Nifty is extremely helpful and does a wonderful job, but I don't want to overwork her. And then of course we could use a boost in moral around here."

Charlie continues. "I feel like everyone could be more entertained while they stay here you know? Something to ensure they enjoy their stay while they recover and walk the road to redemption."

"Why not ask Alastor about that?" I asked. "Isn't he like, all about entertainment?" Charlie grimaced slightly. "Well, as much as I appreciate Alastor's help. His idea of entertainment is kinda...well it's-"

"Terrible." Vaggie finishes. She makes her way to her girlfriend's side. "He's the last person we would ask to provide any entertainment for the hotel or the patients. I don't trust that shitlord to do anything for the hotel's favor. He's up to something, I just know it." She crosses her arms.

Clearly she had a distaste for Alastor, and I don't blame her. "Sadly, it's true. The entertainment part I mean." Charlie clarifies. "I don't want to believe that Alastor is plotting anything. He's helped us out so far." She puts a hand on Vaggie's shoulder, smiling gently. She turns her head to face me. 

"Thank you for offering Y/n. Whatever you can do will help out greatly." I smile softly. "Well, you'd have to thank Alastor too. He's the one who gave me the idea just as I was starting to give up." Charlie and Vaggie seemed a bit shocked by that.

"He did?" Asked Vaggie. I nod my head. "Well." Charlie mutters before clearing her throat. "I suppose I'll have to. Tomorrow I'll talk to you more about what you can do. Until then, enjoy the rest of the evening."

"Alright. I'll see you then." I wave my hand before walking out of her office. Not noticing the confused and slightly concerned expressions on Charlie's and Vaggie's faces.

Once inside my room, I took a deep sigh before reaching up and removing the necklace Alastor gave me. I shutter slightly as my body returned to it's normal form. I set the necklace on my nightstand before stretching my wings out behind me. Looking back, I saw the same scar from before on my wing joint, just as ugly as ever.

I grimace at the memory of my broken wing and aching body. My fall was not a gracious one, though I had no memory of the impact, I absolutely felt the aftermath. I let my wings relax before walking towards a near by window.

I would have stepped out onto the balcony, but someone passing by would have seen me. I hug my arms close to my body as I stared out into the hellish city. 

It surprised me just how similar to a normal city it resembled. I figured it would be vastly different. Sure, suffering was a guarantee down here, that hadn't changed. But, I found some people enjoying themselves, partaking in rather unwise and harmful activities, but enjoying themselves nonetheless.

I most certainly didn't expect any kind of joy to be bad down here.

I guess people really can find the good in even the worst situations. Even if at expense of others, or themselves (unintentionally or not). I gasped as I heard someone knocking at my door. I rushed to grab the necklace, then I heard Alastor's voice. "Oh Y/n? You there?" I sighed in relief before speaking. "Yes, come in."

The door opened, Alastor stepped inside before shutting the door behind him. "I see you're getting comfortable." He says with a grin. I shrug. "That disguise feels weird. Im not use to it. Besides, I'm alone now. Well, I was." Alastor walks further into the room, he glanced over me, his eyes landing on my scar. "Terribly sorry your precious wings got damaged."

"I can't complain. You healed it. I would have been in way worse shape, had it not been to you." I look up at him. "Thank you, by the way. I don't know if I've properly thanked you for what you did."

Alastor raises an eyebrow. "An angel thanking a demon? How unheard of!" He chuckles. "I haven't exactly placed you in a very favorable position." That I could agree with. But again, I didn't have much room to complain. He was at least trying to help me. I think. I mean, there was still that deal we made I have to worry about. Speaking of...

"Alastor? What kind of deal did you make with Husk?"

I was remind of the wariness of the winged cat demon at the mention that I had made a deal with Alastor. Husk didn't seemed harmed at all from the deal, at least not physically. But I didn't know the full extent of it. I was curious, confused, though, Alastor didn't seem too pleased with my curiosity.

His smile strained, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I do believe I've already said this to Husk. But I'll say it to you as well." He says lowly. "I don't believe our business, is any of your concern." I didn't like that answer. 

I wanted to believe it had something to do with privacy. But clearly, something more sinister was lurking below the surface. I don't even know why I'm surprised. He's a demon after all. I thought it would be best I didn't press any further.

However, my curiosity only grew. And a part of me hoped that Husker hadn't suffered because of the deal he made, or won't suffer in the future because of it either.

"Ok." I mutter with a nod of my head. "Very good." Alastor relaxed, his smile returning to normal. "May I at least ask, what will happen if I don't hold up my end of the deal?" I ask carefully.

Alastor hummed. "There will be ramifications for attempting to break a deal, of course. And I assume you know, doing such a foolish thing would not end well for you. Especially when you've made a deal with a demon. A demon, who may not be as forgiving to those who try to oppose him." Alastor smirks. 

"To make a long explanation short, you try anything funny, and you will be punished." Should have known. "I just...I don't know, I just don't think I've held up my end so far. I haven't been very amusing."

Alastor shrugs. "Says you. Though, I can always find ways for you to amuse me." I quickly shook my head. "No thanks. Uh, one more question."

"Go on then." Alastor nods. "What happens if you don't end up your end of the deal?" I asked. Alastor huffs put a short laugh. "My dear, do you take me for some sort of scoundrel?"

"No. I take you for a demon from hell."

"Fair point."

Alastor hums and placed a finger to his chin as he thinks. "I see it this way. Either I can get you into heaven or I can't. And honestly, there is no reason in worrying. We have all of eternity to find a way to get you back in."

I grimace. "Yes but, I'd like to go back before all of eternity." I mutter, causing him to laugh. "Time flies, when time never runs out." I furrow my brows at his confusing words. But I guess it made sense? "Alright. But what if you can't get me into heaven?" I asked. "Than at least I can say I gave it my best shot." Alastor says with a shrug.

Again. I didn't like that answer. "So, I'll just be stuck here forever? That's it?"

 It wasn't wise for me to loose my temper with a demon, or an overlord at that. But I've had enough. Enough of everything. I was forced out of heaven with for reason. Everyone in hell is terrible, though that's expected. I have to disguise myself constantly. I have to fake being a sinner. And now I'm stuck in a deal with this...this unbelievable jerk! And I have had enough of it all!

"That's hardly fair! I've been good my whole life! I devoted myself to god and been the best version of myself I could have possibly been while I was alive! There should be no reason, that I have to be stuck here!" I could feel my face turning red and hot as my anger grew. I couldn't seemed to stop myself from ranting.

"I am willing to do what I have to so I can go back! Even if it means playing into your messed up ways! So darn it, you had better do the same for me!" Alastor wasn't fazed at all by my anger, in fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. He chuckled before speaking. 

"Bold of you to raise your voice to me like that. Very bold indeed." His smirk grew as he leaned down, his face inches from mine. "Perhaps you'd be more entertaining that I had originally though." My anger took over my rationality, my voice laced with venom.

"If you're as half the "proper gentleman" you attempt to be, then you will keep up your end of the deal."

"Or?" He pries. My brows furrow, fists clenched tightly at my sides. Or, nothing. There was really nothing I could do. I was powerless here as far as I knew. And it infuriated me more than anything.

I hate this feeling. The feeling of pure hopelessness, unable to stand up against people like him. It was a feeling I was all too familiar with. And I hated to know it again after all this time.

Alastor spoke when I fell silent. "As I said. There is no use in worrying yourself sick right now. Rest assured, we will get results of some sort." I didn't say anything still. 

The only result I cared about, the only one I wanted, was the one where I went back to heaven. "So. Did Charlie give you any idea of what to do around here?" Alastor asks me, swiftly changing the subject. I sighed. "Yeah. Basically she just needs help with advertisement, cleaning, and ways to keep everyone in the hotel entertained." I tell him. "And before you start, they want nothing to do with your views of entertainment. So please, leave that to me."

Alastor rolled his eyes. "Bunch of kill joys." He muttered. "Very well. I suggest you get some rest then, you have a big day ahead." He walks to my door, before he left he turned to me one last time.

"Keep your spirits up little angel. You'll need it." He says before finally leaving me alone. Alastor walks away from my door and down the hall. His shadow stands tall behind him, it's voice coming out in hushed whispers.

"Do you really think she can go back?"

Alastor laughs gently. "Of course not! There's no way for her to return to heaven. Not unless god comes down here and personally takes her back that is."

"So you plan to fill her mind with delusions? She will figure it out eventually. What then?"

"Trust me, by that point, I am more than certain she would have given up on that silly hope of hers. She's been damned to an eternity in hell. There is no going back." Alastor's grin turned sinister.

"I see. And what will you do with her when that time comes?"

Alastor hums. "Simple. I plan to keep her around as long as I can. Her misery will provide me with great joy. Her hope will be crushed into nothingness. Oh I can only imagine what she must feel when that happens." He laughed again.

"I can hardly wait."