#it's just the more i poke at the little info we have the more it falls apart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

destinyisastar · 28 days ago

Note

I have an idea for you: How about a multivese divergence, something happens and through a tear in the fabric of space an alternate version of the alastor crashes into the original Hazbin Hotel, perhaps an angel! alastor. Imagine how funny it would be if this variant of Angel!Alastor started on top of the reader, since in Angel!Alastor universe there is no reader. Maybe the reader was those rare events that happen and not all universes have a reader...

((Note: perhaps both Alastors were yanderes by the reader))

Just the two of Us

Alastor x Gn Reader x Angel Alastor

(YANDERE)

Summary: An angel falls on you while you are walking back to the hotel and starts taking a liking to you. What happens when the Radio Demon starts to feel distaste towards this new guest?

More info: This was supposed to be uploaded a couple of days ago, but I was going through a bit of writer's block. I really liked this idea I hope I did you justice! This is a long one!

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“Good morning my wonderful listeners!” A voice speaks into a mic, “A gorgeous morning we are having here today in our beloved heaven!” The voice laughs. “Oh, I wouldn’t trade this view for anything in the world, wouldn’t you agree!?” A cheering track is played in the background.

“Now on to today’s activities! There will be a golden hour ceremony in well… in less than thirty minutes! Oh golly! You’ll need to get there quick before there’s no more space left! Ha-ha!!” The man flips through his scripts, “Here’s one that you all will enjoy, Miss Nifty is holding a cooking competition, the winner of the competition will be the rewarded with an opportunity to practice with the little angel herself. On to other news, the grand opening of Mimzy’s dancing parlor will be at six o’clock this evening! Be sure to have your dancing shoes on!” The man behind the mic continues to joke around before he checks his watch, “I believe its time for some music…Jazz for the soul… This is your host, Alastor! I’ll talk to you all soon!”

Alastor lets the jazz music play as he grabs his coffee mug and walks to the window in his radio station. As he takes a sip he watches as the Angels down below walk around, enjoying their afterlife. He smiles as he thinks about what he plans to do today when a small red spiral forms in front of him.

Alastor chokes on his coffee and punches his chest to calm himself.

“What in the heavens is this?!” He puts his mug down and tilts his head to the side. “What should I do with this?” A spark of curiosity flows through him, he decides to poke his finger through the spiral, and it suddenly grows larger.

Alastor jumps backwards, “Oh good lord!” He walks closer to the spiral and decides to just put his whole head through. Inside of the spiral is a red sky and down below that seems to be a city. There seems to be sparks flying, it almost seems like gunshots, down below. Alastor pulls himself back to his station.

The spiral is still there as he paces around the room. “Should I call somebody?” he questions himself. Alastor shakes his head.

Urgent.

He feels a sense of urgency pulling him to the spiral. Why? It doesn’t seem safe wherever it leads to, so why does he feel his legs pull him towards the spiral? He feels his wings stiffen.

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, “Okay…. I’ll check it out and if doesn’t seem worth my while, I can just come back… at least I think so….” Alastor grabs his staff by his desk and walks to the spiral. “Alright… here we go.”

He walks through the spiral and begins to plummet down to the city below.

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“You were right Angel, that store really didn’t have anything good.” You say as you walk side by side with your friend, Angel Dust., as you head back to the Hazbin Hotel.

“I told ya to trust me toots, we should have just stuck with what we knew.” Angel sighs as switches his bags to his other hand. “But it was kinda worth it!” He says as he waves the bags in your face.

“That’s because you got everything for free! I just wanted to see if they had any earrings….” You look the through the small bag you had, “They are pretty, I just wish they had more of a selection…”

“Don’t sweat it, I got some for you too!” He grins at you.

“Aw than-” You get cut off when a body drops on you.

You face the ground with a heavy weight on your back, you hear Angel yelling at whoever was on top of you, pulling (throwing) them off of you.

With a groan you get up, patting yourself for any injuries, “What was that?”

“Don’t know, this freak just fell on you.”

Theres a man on the ground near the wall, he appears to have white wings…. almost like an angel….

The man gets up, “Ah, I’m so sorry for dropping in on you!” The man has yet to look at you, he pats himself down, reaching for his staff…. it almost seems familiar to you.

Finally, the man looks at you right in the eyes then looking you up and down, “My oh my,” He walks up to you taking your hand in his and bends down to press a tender kiss to it. “My apologies for “dropping in” on you! Ha-ha! Oh, where are my manners! My name is Alastor! Pleasure to meet you quite the pleasure! Maybe this is fate to fall upon such a gorgeous person such as yourself! Ha-ha!” “Alastor’s” wings puff up.

Both you and Angel freeze.

Angel speaks up, “What did ya say your name was freak?”

“My name is Alastor! Is this thing working?” “Alastor” taps his microphone staff.

The microphone seems to speak, “Yes! I heard you loud and clear!”

You release your hand from this so called “Alastor”, “Alastor?”

“Yes, my dear?” He answers looking at you with glee.

“Why…. why do you have wings?”

“Alastor” tilts his head at you and Angel, “Well I’m an angel! Oh, you know me Anthony, I always make sure your requests are always played, I even have my own radio show! Maybe you heard of me from there?!”

“AN ANGEL?!” Both you and Angel yell.

Onlookers nearby are now paying attention to all of you.

“Ah shit!” Angel Dust mutters, his mind seems to be somewhere else.

“W-well, Alastor we should get going!” You remove your coat and place it on “Alastor’s” shoulder to cover his wings. “Please keep this on for right now!” you whisper yell to him.

“Whatever for my dear?” Angel Alastor asks.

“Just…please! For me!?”

Angel Alastor nods, “Alright but where are we going?”

“W-we just need to get some place safer for you!” You pull Angel Alastor along with you on the sidewalk, “Angel! C’mon!!”

Angel Alastor escapes out of your grasp and instead gives you his arm to hold on to while you walk.

You stop to look at him but wrap your hand through his arm and keep going as Angel Dust walks in front of the both of you.

Angel Alastor smiles joyfully as he walks faster to keep up with your steps.

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In the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor sits in his chair in his radio tower as he waits for your return. Now, he wouldn’t say that he is desperate for your attention he just appreciates your presence. Yes, that’s it…. your presence is much more tolerable than the other pathetic sinners in this hopeless hotel.

At any moment now you will walk through the hotel’s doors. How does he know that? Well, let’s just say he has eyes everywhere. No, he’s not obsessed with you, why would you think that?

Alastor teleports his way to the lounge area of the hotel and takes a seat on his chair, waiting patiently for your arrival.

And arrive you do.

“Yo Charlie! You here!?” Yells out Angel Dust.

“Why are you yelling so early today?” Husk says from behind the bar.

Angel walks over to the bar and slams his hands on the table, “You ain’t never gonna believe this!” Husk pours him a drink and Angel chugs it down, “Alastor is an Angel!!”

Husk looks at him with a deadpan look, “Are you stupid?”

“NO! I’m being serious!”

“Have you had one to many drinks this morning, my friend?” Alastor says as he teleports himself to take a seat near Angel as Husk passes him a drink. “As you can see, I’m still here in all my glory Ha-ha!” Alastor grins.

Angel looks at him up and down, “Nah no way you had wings and everything!! And… you knew my…” He chugs another down, “Y/n! Get in here!”

Hearing your name makes Alastor perk up but his grin almost, almost, fell. W̷̞̫̄ȟ̷̨͇͝o̵͎̖͑͋ ̷̣͔̏t̶̯̯́h̶̥̲̔e̵̤̘͋̉ ̴̬̥̏͒f̵̩͘ṳ̵̠̆̽ć̷̦̕͜k̸̖̻̐̚ ̸̡̜̀ả̴̰͜r̶̨̹̀e̶͈̙̾ ̵͕̃ÿ̴̧̖́̀o̴͇̙̚u̵̘̔͠ ̴͈͚̓ḫ̵̮̓͝o̷̬̙͛̕l̶̡͓͒͘d̶̝̹̐ȉ̸͈͝ṅ̵͍̚g̴̮͎̊͛ ̸͕̚ȍ̶͜n̶̺̱̈́ ̸̰̣̆̉t̴̥̑̐o̷͍͒?̸͔̹͐

“Okay…this is the Hazbin Hotel… “Alastor”,” You lead Angel Alastor to the couch, “Sit here while I…. go get someone to help, okay? Do you want anything so drink?”

“No, but thank you darling! I’ll be fine!” Angel Alastor laughs.

“Who the fuck is that?” Husk spats out.

“See! That’s Alastor, well, Angel Alastor. Its freaky!!”

You walk up to the bar, gently placing your hands on the table, “Where’s Charlie?”

“She’s out with Vaggie, said something about convincing sinners to join the hotel.” Husk cleans some of the glasses but continues to take glances at the supposed “Angel Alastor”.

You sigh, “Okay…okay” You rub your temples, “Can I have a glass of water please, it’s for him…” Husk hands you the glass of water and you walk away from the group heading towards Angel Alastor, taking a seat next to him.

However, Alastor, the Alastor that sits by the bar… Alastor the Radio Demon… is seething. Of course, he is a bit curious seeing that this supposed “Angel Alastor” is another version of him, a version of him that has wings, white hair, and a staff eerily similar to his. Why are you sitting next to this fake? That fool is nothing like him.

“Here, have some water… you probably need it from falling from wherever you came from.” You pass him the water and he drinks it.

“Thank you my dear….” Angel Alastor looks around the room, “This is a darling little place you have here chère! But what exactly is this?” He turns to you.

“Oh! This a hotel ran by the Princess of Hell, Charlie, she’ll explain more once she gets here, I wanted to ask… how did you get here?”

Angel Alastor places his drink down on the table, “Well, I woke up as I usually do, then I went to my radio station…I was doing my usual routine, reading my scripts, telling everyone what the day had planned for them, after that was done I let some music play then I just walked around my broadcast room and suddenly this little spiral appeared right in front of me.”

“Spiral?”

“Yes, its was red and black… I gave it a small poke and it grew larger. I will admit, I got a bit curious about it, so I stuck my head in it.”

“You stuck your head in it? What if you got hurt?”

“Well, you know what they say curiosity killed the cat Ha-ha-ha!!” Angel Alastor jokes, “But in this case the cat lived! Oh-ho!” He begins to wipe a fake tear. “Once I stuck my head through the spiral, I saw a city down below and decided to take a look!”

You tilt your head to the side, “You wanted to take a look?”

“Yes!”

“That sounds silly.”

Angel Alastor laughs, “Now my dear I believe I told you my name already, what might yours be?”

“That’s right, I haven’t told you my name, it’s Y/n.”

“My, that’s a beautiful name…” Angel Alastor smiles at you sweetly, reaching for your hand.

Angel Dust walks over to the both of you and leans on the edge of the couch, “Listen…. “Alastor”, you called me “Anthony” … Why?”

Angel Alastor turns slightly towards Angel, “You look like Anthony, a fellow I know from heaven, he always calls in so his song can play, in fact,” Angel Alastor looks to the bar and points at Husk, “I also know someone that looks like that gentlemen as well, though he doesn’t look so…” Husk flips off Angel Alastor, “so off.”

Angel Alastor then turns his attention to… himself?

The Alastor at the bar grins, his smile stretches upwards, “And?” He taps his fingers on his staff, “What about me?” He tilts his head slyly.

Angel Alastor stands up, “Well, I’ll be…” He wipes his monocle with a handkerchief and his wings puff up slightly.

Alastor teleports in front of “Angel Alastor” from the shadows on the floor below.

Both Alastor’s tilt their heads, both hum, both grin at each other.

“Your me.” They both say in unison.

Alastor has a red and black color coordination (red being more dominate) while Angel Alastor has a white and blue color coordination (white being more dominate). They’re both similar. The only attribute that separates them both is the golden halo above Angel Alastor’s head along with the large wings on his back.

“So, you’re from heaven?” Alastor circles around this supposed Angel, “You said that there’s others that look like our spider fellow here and the drunk behind the bar…. Are they also angels?”

“They aren’t demons! Ha-ha! But I will say….” Angel Alastor looks down to you as you still sit on the couch, “I’ve never seen anyone that looks like you.” He smiles.

Alastor sneers for a moment but it was quickly replaced by a grin, “Well! Maybe they're in your hell! Did you think of that?!”

Angel Alastor pushes Alastor with his staff, “I assure you she wouldn’t be there.” He takes a glance at you then looks back at Alastor. “There is no hell.”

Angel Dust spits out his drink, “NO HELL?!”

“You heard correct.” Angel Alastor turns towards the bar, “We have no hell.”

The front doors open and in walks Charlie and Vaggie.

“Uh what’s this talk about no hell?” Charlie says as she looks around the room and freezes as she spots Angel Alastor.

“Who the fuck is that!?” Vaggie yells, arming herself with her spear racing towards Angel Alastor.

However, before Vaggie can make contact with Angel Alastor, you put yourself in between them raising your arms out. “WAIT! WAIT!” you yell out, “He’s okay! He’s not gonna hurt us!”

“Then what the hell is he doing here?! And why the fuck does he look like Alastor!?”

“Vaggie calm down!” Charlie rubs her girlfriend’s shoulders then looks to Angel Alastor. “Who are you?”

“I’m Alastor! Pleasure to meet you! I assume your Charlie the Princess of Hell!” He grins while shaking her hand.

Charlie stays silent for the moment and huffs out a laugh, “I’m sorry… WHAT?”

“We’ve been over this before you got here toots…” Angel stands up right, “This is Angel Alastor and supposedly there’s versions of us in his heaven but get this, there’s no hell!” Angel Dust says as he somehow has a popsicle in his hand and takes a bite, “Crazy right?”

“This is all very weird!” Charlie says as she waves her arms. She walks around Angel Alastor. “So, you’re an Angel that fell from heaven, but not from our heaven… am I getting this right?”

“I believe so!”

“And there’s no hell?”

“Correct!”

“And there’s people that look like us? There’s an Angel in your heaven that looks like me?”

“Yes! Her name is Charlotte, but she also goes by Charlie. She’s a lovely girl, very friendly, happy go lucky,” Angel Alastor looks at Vaggie, “You are also there too, hand in hand with dear Charlie.”

“Now we need you get back to your heaven…… why did you even fall down here?”

“I was curious!” Angel Alastor turns to you, “Might I say… it was worth it.” He grins.

You start to feel flustered and look away.

Alastor stands beside you as you sit on the couch, while your flustered self would usually fill him with glee, especially if he was the reason, this fake was the one who made you turn away.

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While heaven was a joyful beautiful place, hell was the complete opposite.

Angel Alastor sits on the balcony sipping his coffee, waiting for you to join him. It’s been a couple of days since he’s been here, and you…. he’s never met anyone like you. It’s strange, so far everyone he’s met is someone he knows from his heaven, even Nifity was here although she was a bit more deranged, killing bugs left and right. Nifity had told him he should be a “bad boy” instead of a “good boy” whatever that meant.

“Hey! I’m sorry for being a little late I was helping Charlie print out some flyers.” You say as you take a seat.

“Not to worry my dear!” Angel Alastor smiles as he passes you a cup and plate of sweets near you.

“Thank you.” You take a bite out of the sweet treat, “How are you liking it down here so far? I-I’m sorry that its nothing like your heaven, I’m sure you miss it…”

Angel Alastor places his cup down, “I… I do miss it sometimes, my radio station mostly, but you… you make this hell seem like heaven.” He grins at you.

You quickly take a sip of your drink, and Angel Alastor laughs.

From his tower in his station Alastor watches as you speak to the fake.

Why?

Why aren’t you with him?

You knew him before this fake.

So why????

Alastor’s grin tightens and teleports himself to the both of you.

“Well! Isn’t this…,” Alastor looks between the two of you, “A lovely little moment!” His grin stretches upwards.

“Good morning, Alastor!” You say smiling at the Radio Demon.

“Good morning my dear!” Alastor summons a chair, “I hope you don’t mind that I join you! It’s been such a busy morning, and I would like to spend time with someone who isn’t a nuisance! Ha-ha!”

“I don’t mind, but Angel Al is the one who invited me…. you don’t mind do you Al?”

“Not at all darling!” Angel Alastor smiles (clearing lying through his teeth, but you don’t see that) at you as you take another sip of your drink but glares at Alastor, the so called “Radio Demon” (more like the Radio Fool).

The fool is smiling at him with glee.

“So! My dear, what do you have planned today?” Angel Alastor asks.

“Oh well I-”

“They’re spending the day with me!” Alastor says as he light smacks the table with his mug, “Isn’t that right my darling?” He tilts his head at you with his signature grin.

“Yes... but you never told me what we’ll be doing.”

“I’ll shall gladly tell you right now!” Alastor scoots his chair closer to you, Angel Alastor scrunches up his face but quickly puts on a smile as you take a glance at him.

“We’ll be heading to Cannibal Town! Rosie hasn’t had a chance to chat with you in a while!” Alastor places his hand over yours, “It seems like you’re taking my good friend away from me! Ha-ha!” He says rather dramatically, “After we had our chat, I’m taking you to one of my favorite clubs! Its nothing like the ones that our feminine fellow speaks about, but I won’t say anything more, I’d like it to be a surprise!”

“That sounds wonderful Alastor!” You say excitedly.

Alastor nods his head seeming excited himself.

“Yes… it sounds delightful...” Angel Alastor mumbles as he grits his teeth.

Alastor glances at the fake next to him with a sly grin.

You look towards Angel Alastor, feeling a bit sad that you have to leave him here. Charlie said that he can’t go anywhere due to him being an angel, it’s not safe for him, especially since he looks like Alastor.

“Well, my dear it’s almost time! We should be on our way!” Alastor stands up holding on to your hand beginning to pull you up with him.

“Hey, Al?”

Both Alastor’s look at you. Angel Alastor holds his breath.

“I know you can’t really leave the hotel to do anything so… how about we just have a day for ourselves tomorrow? We can do whatever you want!” You smile brightly at him.

Angel Alastor gives you his own smile, a smile that can certainly light up the heavens, a smile that clearly states that he’s an angel from above.

“I’d like that a lot mon chère…”

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After the little gossip sesh with Rosie, Alastor had surprised you with a little with a Jazz club. It was small but the music, oh the music, was stunning.

“How… how did you find this place Alastor?” You ask looking around, there’s sinners sitting at their tables chatting, eating, everybody here seems at peace here.

“During my first years in hell, I got a bit homesick….I missed the wonders of true music, I missed…..” A waiter waves you both to a table and Alastor leads you with a hand on your waist and pulls your chair out for you. The waiter takes your order, and you begin to listen to the music. There’s a sinner singing on stage, her tune sounds so dreamily, the members of her band fall into sync with her.

The waiter brings you both the food you ordered, and you begin to eat the meal. The conversations between you both were rather sweet.

“You know my dear…” Alastor puts down the fork, his meal was a venison wrapped in bacon, (it was rather delicious). “I…. I know I might not always say this to you, but….”

You place your utensils down giving Alastor your full attention.

“I apprec-”

“ALRIGHT LADIES AND GENTS!!!” A man on stage speaks (yells) into the mic, “Its that time again where you grab that special person and move oh so slowly to song of our loving sweetheart!” The singer on stage nods and takes hold of the mic and sings her sweet tune much more calmly.

You take a glance at the sinners slow dancing, smiling softy at each other.

Alastor notices this and stands in front of you, holding his hand out to you, “Care for a dance my dear?” he asks tilting his head.

You stay silent for a number of seconds before nodding your head and putting your hand in his. Alastor pulls you up and brings you to the dance floor.

Placing your head on his shoulder, Alastor sways the both of you. Since you’ve known Alastor, he’s always been a force of nature. He’s unpredictable. He’s… he’s a manipulator, you know that. Everyone around you knows that, yet you feel as if there is a change in his demeanor, at least around you. He still acts the same around the other hotel guests, but to you he’s been rather kind (or whatever he deems kind).

As he sways you from left to right you hear Alastor hum along to the song, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You remove your head from Alastor’s shoulder and look into his eyes with a smile, “I very much am… thank you for taking me here…” Alastor removes his hands that holds yours and wraps his arms around his waist and you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I appreciate you… I hope you know that…” Alastor mutters quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, my dear…”

Alastor spins you around and bends you down slightly he then pulls you back up close to his face. He smiles rather softly.

You pull yourself from him, making just enough space for the two of you. You are aware that Alastor is not fond of closeness, or rather him being touched, you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Alastor’s smile drops for a second but is quickly brought right back up and the dancing continues like before.

Your mind begins to wander…. How is Angel Alastor doing? You don’t know why you care for that Angel… maybe it’s the way he looks at you or the way he actually wants to be near you, speak to you. Your mind feels at ease whenever your near him, you feel yourself smiling.

“Happy now, are you?” Alastor asks his palm cupping your cheek.

“Yes, I am…” You try not to lean into his hand.

Alastor rubs a claw on you cheek, “Something on your mind?”

You want to answer him, but you don’t want to ruin the mood that was created. Alastor and Angel Alastor seem to have tension with each other, you don’t know why (They’re the same person, just… different).

“….honestly, I’m a bit worried about Angel Alastor,” You whisper the latter, “He just fell on top of me, and I kind of feel bad about it….”

Alastor stops dancing, his grip on you tightening.

“He says he doesn’t mind being here, but I know deep down he wants to go back home….” You say looking a bit sadden.

Fake. You are speaking about that fake when you are clearly with real deal.

“I… I just… Oh, I don’t know….”

That fake is taking up too much, far too much space in your mind. Ever since that fake showed up you’ve been spending too much time with it. Why?!

“Why…”

“Huh?”

“Do you care for that fake?” His grin begins to stretch.

“Fake?”

Alastor looks away for a moment then turns back to you, “We should return to the hotel! Can’t leave that little fake by itself, right! Ha-ha!!”

“Ala-”

“No, no darling that fake needs to be coddled right now!” He walks out of the club with you following behind him.

“Alastor!”

Alastor looks at you, shakes his head, “I… I apologize for acting out of sorts…” He raises a palm to his head, running his claws through his hair.

“Alastor, you mean a lot to me….. if you’re talking about “Angel Al”, he’s… he’s just another person. Your still my good friend and nothing’s ever gonna change that.” You smile at him.

Alastor smiles back and huffs out a laugh, “Oh, darling!” He cups your cheek once more, “You are just too sweet Ha-ha!” He gives you his arm to hold, you take it, feeling a bit flustered.

You both begin the trek back to the hotel when you turn to face Alastor once more.

“Alastor?”

“Yes?”

“I care for you.”

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Angle Alastor has had the time of life (afterlife?), you have truly been the light to his darkness. Sure, when he was in heaven there were plenty of people that kept him company. People that made him laugh, people that made him smile but you… he doesn’t understand this feeling he has when he’s with you. Why does your smile make his day brighter? Why does your laugh bring him joy? Why does he feel his heart thumping whenever you are near? Do you share this feeling? This feeling of happiness you feel it too…. right?

“What’s your favorite meal Al?” You ask Angel Alastor, you both decided to cook in the kitchen for your day together.

“Hmm… at the moment I would have to say any meal that includes venison! It could be stew, roasted, steak, it’s all delicious!” He says as the imagines the meals in his mind, “Although jambalaya never fails to make me smile!”

“I’ve only recently started eating venison… Alastor has certainly made an impact on my dinner time!” You smile at the memory of Alastor first giving you the taste of his venison stew (he almost gave you the meal raw, but you immediately declined).

“Yes…yes… hell’s version of me...”

You take a glance at him as you set the plates on the table, “Al?”

“Hmm?” He looks up from the cutting board.

“Do you get along with your other version?”

Angel Alastor scrunches his face a bit then goes back to cutting the venison, “I can’t say that I do…”

“Can I ask why?”

Angel Alastor puts the cut venison into a pan on the stove, making it sizzle, “We may be the same person, but we are…. how should I put this…...we are not exactly alike.”

“How so?”

“That demon…. we just don’t mix well together…” He shakes his head.

“That’s okay!”

“It’s…. okay?”

“Yeah! It’s okay that you aren’t alike, no one is meant to be the same person even if its another version of you!” You place the knives and forks down near the plates. “What about everyone else?”

“They’re all alright…. I understand they aren’t my friends from my heaven, Charlie is practically the only one that is still similar, but this is simply another… another world.” The venison is finally cooked, and he takes it to the plates on the table setting two for you down and one for him on the plates. He takes the asparagus he had on the stove and wraps it around the venison, putting mashed potatoes on the side. He still has a smile on his face as he pulls your chair out for you and then sits in his respected seat.

“I am glad that you’re here…. I don’t think that I would have lasted too long out here if it wasn’t for you or dropping on you! Ha!”

“It’s no problem at all! Really! I like spending time with you!” You smile at him as you take a bite out of your asparagus. “You’re a good cook Al!”

“I know I am, Ha-ha!”

Once you both finished your meal Angel Alastor walks you back to your room (his room is near yours since he feels more comfortable around you).

“Thank you for everything Al, really…” You say rocking yourself back and forth on your feet.

“The honors all mine….” Angel Alastor grabs your right hand and bends down slightly to kiss it, then pulls himself back up and looks into your eyes, still holding your hand.

“Y/n….thank you for everything….the days you spend with me are nothing but hours of joy.” He cups your cheek.

You feel yourself leaning slightly into his touch for a moment, then you look into his eyes.

He smiles softly at you and moves closer towards you.

You hold your breath.

But….

You move backwards holding your cheeks with your hands, you give an airy laugh.

“I’m sor-”

“Nothing to be sorry for my dear!” He lets out a laugh.

You nod your head, still laughing slightly, you tilt your head down but then look up Angel Alastor, he’s still smiling at you.

You grab the knob to your door, open it and walk in, “Al?”

“Yes, cher?”

“Lets… have another day together, yeah?” You look at him feeling a little nervous, “Next time I’ll choose what we do, okay?”

“Of course, anything you choose will done with my heart’s content.” He smiles at you with his hands behind his back.

You nod your head and close the door.

Angel Alastor lets out a sigh and walks to your closed door and places his hand on it tracing it. He begins to walk away when a shadow starts to bubble up from the floor beneath him. The shadow forms upwards and takes the shape of the Radio Demon.

“Well, well…. I’ve been watching you….” Alastor walks around the fake.

Angel Alastor still with his hands behind back stays perfectly still, and his wings puff up, “So you have…”

“Do you think you have a chance?” Alastor’s radio voice comes out full force, he takes a small glance at your door and decided to teleport the fake and himself to his radio tower.

Angel Alastor is consumed by the darkness and is then brought red studio.

“So, this is your dainty little…,” He looks around the area and scrunches his face, “station.”

“Enough with the chit chat…..”

Angel Alastor tilts his head, “What exactly do you want?” he says with a grin.

“I want you to stop what your doing…” Alastor eyes begin to turn into dials.

“What exactly am I doing hmmm?” Angel Alastor’s grin tightens.

“I want you to stay away from them….”

“If I don’t?” He teases.

“I’ll-” Alastor’s antlers start to grow.

“You won’t.” Angel Alastor wings rise.

“What makes you think I won’t?”

Angel Alastor walks around the station, fiddling with the buttons, “They care for me…. you care for them… if something were to happen to me, the blame would be put on you…and then they’ll be sad…. you don’t want that, right?” He faces Alastor with his everlasting grin.

Alastor huffs, “You don’t know who you’re messing with…”

“Oh, but I do…. after all I am you.”

“You’re a fake.”

“Ah, ah, ah…. I am you, just from another world, or did you forget?”

“You’re nothing compared to me….”

Angel Alastor laughs.

“Your no Angel, are you?” Alastor grins.

“I am! Just not when it come to something I want… and I want them…”

Alastor laughs, “What a joke!”

“You laugh, but you want the same thing.”

“Maybe I do, but you…. I don’t want you here...” Alastor sneers.

“And I want you gone. You see…. we are similar in some ways….”

“Let me repeat my question ...… do you think you have a chance?”

Angel Alastor puffs his wings out, “Of course I do!”

“You don’t, I know more about them then you ever would in a single lifetime.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so!”

Angel Alastor walks to the door of the station, “We’ll see who they’ll choose…but let me tell you one thing….you won’t win..” Angel Alastor laughs and shuts the door with a slam.

Alastor stares and the door then he suddenly laughs. And laughs, and laughs.

Then he walks towards the windows of his stations and stares out with a sinister grin,

“Let the games begin.”

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺⌝❜❛⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺⌝❜❛⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Sorry for not posting for a couple of days! I was going to post 3 stories yesterday, but I didn't :P Anyways, more to come!

WordCount: 5573

destinyisastar 2024

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor the radio demon #angel alastor #x gn reader #hazbin #angel alastor x reader

154 notes · View notes

skzdarlings · 11 months ago

Text

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 2/2

masterlist.

PART 2/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. cat-and-mouse. dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. brat tamer!felix and brat!reader. everything that transpires is fully consensual with implied conversations on kink preferences, and an established colour safeword system before the scene. that being said, they still get a lil kinky. please heed the following content warnings: fear kink/cnc, hiding, chasing, lots and lots of dirty talk, fingering, blow jobs, face fucking, throat fucking, a little bit of crying, penetrative sex. (protected but dirty talk like it's not.)

(chapter word count: 7750 words.)

enjoy! <3

The gentlest nip of a summer breeze moves through the settling blue darkness. Everything feels romantic. Everything except the handcuffs chaining you to Felix, Security Guard of the Year, Man of the People, and Defender of Propriety and Pop Star Penis.

Felix does not look at you as he drags you away from the stadium. He smiles sweetly at passersby, doing his best to hide the handcuffs no thanks to your flamboyant gesticulations, but it dissolves again to that grim, determined countenance.

Felix has an interesting face, so many sharp lines, but the overall effect is somehow delicate. A body of contradictions, slender but strong, a stark masculinity rippling beneath the glittery prettiness he happily indulges in. Blue hair should not look that good on anyone, but you doubt anything could make him look bad. He sparkles like the glitter star on his cheek.

You poke that cheek. A muscle in his jaw twitches. He looks at you sideways, all pretty brown eyes and a constellation of even prettier freckles.

“Do not,” he says.

“Do not what?”

“Just. Do not.”

You obey his demand for silence. For about six seconds.

“So how long have you been a security guard?” you ask amiably.

“You’re really trying to have a normal conversation with me,” he says. “Now? After that introduction?”

“I prefer the term meet-cute.”

“We wrestled on the ground then you handcuffed us together and threw away the key—”

“Adorable.”

“Right.” He picks up his speed. You could easily keep pace but you decide to stagger along like he is too fast for you, whining as he drags you behind him. Felix sighs but slows his pace. To your surprise, he answers your question. “A month,” he says. “I’ve been working there a month.”

“And you’re already gunning for CEO,” you say. “Considering how dedicated you are to bringing justice—”

He slams to a stop. Your chain jingles when you collide, hands smacking together. He faces you. Wisps of blue escape from his half-ponytail to dance across his face.

“I already told you,” he says. “My job is checking tickets. Chasing you down was my personal pleasure.”

“You’re a sick bastard,” you say.

He smiles. It is a gentle smile, seemingly sympathetic out of nowhere, his eyes softening with the lift of his brow. He has an uncanny ability to make softness more threatening than roughness. It gives you a shiver.

“Let me guess,” he says. “You don’t have a job, do you, sweetheart? You can’t hold one down. You don’t know how. Your parents have money and it’s nice, sure, but they were overbearing your whole childhood, weren’t they? Until one day they decided you were grown and just stopped caring. And now you’re out in the world with no more rules and you don’t know how to deal with it. Except by acting out. It’s fun, right? Looking for trouble. Makes you feel something for a minute. Because even though you have everyone fooled into thinking you’re this wild and carefree person, you’re locked up inside. You’re not scared of consequences because you’re already trapped. Oh, uhh, stop me if I’m getting cold, yeah?”

You just stare as he blithely runs his pretty mouth.

“You don’t really care about the prize, it’s just about the chase,” he continues. “You told me I was a good boy, yeah? Your words. And you think you’re bad. A bad, bad girl,” his deep voice drops even more, like the heavy-handed thud of a low blow, striking some place intimate inside you, “but that’s not really true, is it?”

He smiles that particular smile again, full of affection and tenderness, an expression that is completely alien to your brash and aggressive nature.

“Deep, deep down, you just want to be good,” he says. “But you need to earn it to enjoy it, don’t you? You need someone to tell you that you can, that it’s okay. But you don’t make it easy. And you’ve been running for so long, you probably can’t even remember how it feels when someone cares enough to catch you.”

You suddenly feel the weight of the handcuffs. You expected this dull pretty boy to have a hidden mean streak to rival your own, not for him to blast through your barriers and drag your innermost thoughts to the surface. To say nothing of his perfect speculation on your background.

“So what, you’re some kind of stalker with a philosophy major?” you ask.

He is still smiling.

He laughs, a low chuckle. He looks like a star, glittering silver and blue in the moonlight.

“No, I’m not,” he says. “I’m just the same as you. Vexatious, apparently, because I’m all smiles all the time. Just so good, you know?” He is almost theatrical in tone. “Of course, that’s technically the opposite of you. Isn’t it?”

When you don’t answer, he touches your chin, just his fingertips. It is still enough to guide your face to his, locking eyes.

“I said, isn’t it?” he asks, his tone sharper.

If he is insinuating that you are only pretending to be bad, then that means he is only pretending to be good. If you are secretly good, then he is secretly—

His mouth hovers close to yours. He abruptly steps back.

Oh. You blink quickly. Yes. Of course. It is always the real bad boys who take care to be good, isn’t it? He does not need to flaunt it. He can just smile at you.

“Come on,” he says, interlocking your fingers with his. He tugs you along, humming to himself as he leads you down the street. So seemingly innocent. Grinning to himself like the cheshire cat.

You stare at those freckles, the glitter stars, his dimples.

A vexatious vixen, indeed.

“So that Jisung guy,” you say. “The one who gave you these handcuffs. He thinks you’re a nice guy who needs some adventure in his life. It was just a prank gift and he thought he was being funny.”

“Yup,” Felix says, popping the sound.

“Little does he know you’re actually some sick and twisted pervert,” you say.

“Tsk,” he says, looking at you with a cheeky grin, as if to say what a silly girl you are. “I’m not sick. See, unlike you who bothers everyone whether they like or not, I only chase the ones who like to run. Twisted, on the other hand… well…”

The handcuffs jingle, strung around your joined hands like the red string of fate. You look at each other, starlight on your faces, a noisy arena behind you and a game ahead of you.

You smile back at him.

You still intend to win.

It is a twenty minute walk. Your conversation weaves around implications, some very forthright flirtations, and a couple scandalizing explanations. Despite his previous goading, Felix is far more reserved in his desires. He blinks when you describe a very dirty scenario and get detailed. Very, very detailed.

“Um, right,” he says. “Fun as that sounds, I’m pretty sure that constitutes as a human rights violation.”

“So?”

“I, uhh, prefer to do things that don’t get me put on an Interpol watch list.”

“Coward.”

You nonetheless accept this and describe a totally different scenario. He looks a little wan.

“Where would I get a rocket launcher?” he asks when you are finished.

“I dunno, get creative. My friend Seungmin once—oh shit, my friends!”

“Wait, huh? Your friend Seungmin has a rocket launcher…?”

You take out your phone to find a gathering collection of texts from Seungmin and Minho, ranging from teasing you about losing your touch to asking if you got arrested and they need to bail you out. Your friends are a nightmare which is why you like them, but they always get you out of trouble in the end.

You confirm you are safe, that you already left, and that you are trying to have sex with a hot, insane, kinky sadist of a security guard.

“You know I can read everything you are typing right now,” Felix says. “I am standing right beside you. You’re typing with a hand literally attached to mine.”

“Well, mind your own business.” You do not bother hiding your texts.

“You are giving them my name and address,” Felix replies. “It sounds like my business.”

“Well, it’s not. We’ve already established the world revolves around me. You’re the supporting character, pal.”

“Right,” he says. He blinks at the screen. In a more serious voice, he asks, “Do you want the postal code too?”

It never hurts to be thorough. You type the address and send it to the boys.

Good thing you waxed, Seungmin writes.

Felix squints at the screen and tilts his head like a curious cat. “You waxed for a concert?” he asks, giving you a once-over. “What did you think was gonna—”

“I am prepared for every eventuality,” you interrupt. “It’s why I always win.”

He holds up your handcuffed wrists and cocks an eyebrow. “Is this what you call winning?” he asks.

You smirk, your whole expression bright despite the suggestive wiggling of your eyebrows. “Matter of opinion, I suppose,” you say. “And my opinion is the only one that matters.”

“Right,” he says, forcing a frown. Despite his efforts, a smile is tugging at his lips. He suffices to roll his eyes and march ahead, yanking you along behind him. “Come on,” he says. “We’re almost there.”

Once your friends have your information, you put your phone in your little purse. You turn the corner and find yourself looking at an absolutely gorgeous house. Your jaw drops as Felix leads you up the driveway. It is an ostentatious design to say the least. You pass a gate mounted with two lion statues.

“Not my style,” he says when you gawk at the stone kitties. “This place belongs to my parents. They usually rent it out but they let me live here while I go to school.”

“So you weren’t kidding,” you say, a funny sensation in your chest and stomach. “About your background, I mean. You and me really are alike.”

You realize the sensation in your chest is an inkling of feelings. Genuine, heart-felt, soul-stirring feelings. You look at Felix and see a lot of yourself, though he is like a mirror version, exactly the same and completely the opposite. It makes you huff, holding a hand to your stomach like you can control the butterflies there.

“What’s wrong?” Felix asks, pausing at the front door.

“When was the last time you had a feeling?” you ask.

“A… feeling?” he asks. He stands silent for a long moment. When he realizes you are not going to elaborate, he asks, “What kind of feeling?”

“Just a feeling,” you say. “You know.”

“Uhh.” He blinks quickly. “I have feelings all the time. Every day.”

“Wow,” you say. “That sounds exhausting. Explains a lot about you.”

“All right.” He shakes his head. He reaches into his back pocket and fishes out a set of house keys, twirling them around his fingers until he finds the right one.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if I threw those keys too?” you ask.

He gives you an exasperated look. You grin.

With a shake of his head, he sighs and unlocks the door. The foyer lights flicker to life and the house alarm starts ringing. It gives you a punch of adrenaline which has the predictable effect of getting your blood pumping. Your body does not know the difference between fear and desire. You have only been here two seconds but you are already licking your lips.

Felix is none-the-wiser. He flips open the alarm panel and punches in a code. It beeps and goes quiet. You look at each other in the soft golden glow of the foyer lamplight. He still looks stupidly pretty, blue hair and glitter, sleeveless shirt and jeans. Unassuming, gentle, sweet. Not at all like he could throw you over his shoulder or manhandle you in the grass. But he can. He did.

“Come on,” he says, tugging on the chain between you.

You feign disinterest but your eyes scour his space. You pass through the kitchen where there is an array of baking utensils drying in the dishes rack. The entire kitchen is clearly maintained with great care. The rest of the space is a little chaotic, shelves and desks and units overflowing with technological equipment that you can neither recognize nor name.

“I build computers,” he says, catching you staring at the pile of miscellaneous parts. “Sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting company.”

This is uttered dryly and you wave it away. You do not want to admit you find it somewhat endearing. Your hobbies primarily consist of keeping the local PD on their toes, but you appreciate the practice of a craft. It only adds another layer to this weird dude, pretty but athletic but intelligent but ridiculous but charming but geeky. And just as competitive and crazy and freaky as you.

“Bedroom’s this way,” he says. “And, uh, don’t get any ideas.”

“Too late,” you answer, though truthfully your filthier fantasies are fracturing in wake of the reality of him. The computers, the baking tools, the wall of games and consoles, collectible toys and ughhh why did he have to be kind of adorable and secretly have a personality. Mutual objectification is more your style. Not quivering under a gentle touch and feeling… feelings.

“You look like you are thinking way too hard,” Felix says, pausing at his bedroom door. “It’s freaky.”

“Not thinking anything,” you say, because you are too busy feeling to be thinking. Ugh. You shake it off and push open his bedroom door.

He shakes his head and leads you in. He has a pretty elaborate gaming setup, the rest of the room plain in comparison. His bed is neatly made and you cannot help but envision a mess of sheets. Yes. That is more your thing. Taking that sweet and gentle façade and corrupting it, right down to the core. You want him to lose control. You want to drive him crazy. You want to draw this out, use the handcuffs and—

“Aha,” he says. “Right here.”

He pulls open a bedside drawer. A pair of handcuffs is sitting inside it, the key right on top. He takes it out and immediately unlocks you.

The cuffs fall to the floor. He scoops them up and jingles them in your face.

You stare at them then slowly meet his gaze.

“Oh,” you say. “You evil son of a bitch.”

He looks at you with a soft little pout, like he cannot imagine why you would be upset and you are hurting his oh-so sensitive feelings. But he knew you wanted to play him. He knew you wanted the handcuffs a little longer. Now there is no reason to linger. Now you can just walk out the door and never see him again.

He is going to make you ask for it.

That is not your style. You hate being out-smarted. And you really, really, really hate losing.

“Right,” you say. “I guess that’s it then.”

“Guess so,” he says. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

You are still standing in his bedroom. It is dark but there is an elaborate lighting rig around his computer, all bright blue neon and blinking lights. You are swimming in blue, breathing it in. His hair, the room, and moonlight.

You will never see this colour the same way again. Of that much you are certain.

“Blue,” you say.

His brow crinkles. “Blue?” he repeats.

“Mm.” You look around the room, pretending you are unbothered by the intensity of his gaze. “Red. Yellow. Green. Colours can say a lot, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” he says, exhaled on a breath. The neon light catches the little star on his cheek, glinting at you. He is dazzling. This moment is larger than life.

You take a step back, holding his gaze.

“Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go…” you drawl, backing out of his room. “It’s amazing what you can say with just a colour…”

“Uh-huh,” he says. He looks at you like he did at the arena, maybe even more intensely. Now he knows what you are capable of doing. Now you understand each other.

He follows you, assessing every step you take. There is a subtle flex to the lean muscles of his arms, reminding you that while he is beautiful, he is also capable of more.

“And what does blue mean?” he asks. “To you?”

You walk backwards, an unspoken understanding that once you turn your back, the game begins. So you hold his gaze, smirking, inviting. The foyer lights flash on and gold light fills the space between you, casting shadows across your smiling faces.

He walks like a predatory cat, slow and smooth. His confidence is easy. He needs no grand display of machoism. He just smiles that pretty pink mouth. The glitter on his cheek sparkles.

“Blue is the colour we show on the outside,” you say, “when deep down we really want something else.”

“I see,” he says. Abruptly, his intensity vanishes when he laughs and says, “Put it back.”

Somehow, despite diverting his attention, he still saw your slight-of-hand. You swiped the closest object, a little jewel-encrusted clock on the nearby table. You waited until your body obscured the view but he still saw.

He can read you that easily, predict your moves that well. Because it is not as though he loves the clock. It stands out from his things, clearly one of the ostentatious designs, courtesy of his parents. You can read him that easily too. He does not like gaudy, shiny little knick-knacks. He likes neon and blue and you.

“Put what back?” you ask. You have reached the front door. Your hands are behind your back, the bauble in one, the other twisting the doorknob.

“I’m not gonna ask twice,” he says.

You push the door open.

“I’ll give it back, if that’s what you really want,” you say. With a suggestive little smirk, you ask, “So what’s your colour?”

Red to stop. Yellow to pause. Green to give in.

“Blue,” he says. To play.

You smile. You hold up the bauble, wink, then zip it into your purse.

“In that case,” you say, “you’ll have to catch me first.”

His expression changes in an instant, that playful giggling gone as quickly as it came. He breathes and it fills him, makes him look sturdy, makes him look ready.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “Don’t make me do this.”

The softness of the pet name is completely undone by the dark tone of his voice. There is nothing soft about him. He is ice cold blue and burning red heat at once, searing you with his eyes, the way they rove your whole body. You feel each glance. A shiver races down your spine. Instinctively, your body braces itself, fearful of that voice and that gaze.

It also gets you so, so hot.

All that tension snaps.

You turn and run, bolting down the driveway and past the fancy gate. You are quick on your feet, practiced and lithe. You show him no mercy this time. Earlier you were unprepared, severely misjudging his capabilities, but you will not make the same mistake again.

You glance over your shoulder. He is no where to be seen so you slow your pace, bemused.

A minute later, he comes tearing around the corner and your heart starts pumping again. Just like back at the arena, he grins as he thunders after you.

An instinctive little yelp leaves your mouth. You resume your pace, booking it for the corner of the block. There is a little patch of green park so you run there, disappearing between the bushes.

It seemed like a good idea but the streetlight barely breaks the thick tree branches. It is darker and eerier here, genuine fright overcoming you. You come to a clumsy stop, fumbling with your purse to grab your phone. A flashlight will stop you tripping, but it will also lead Felix right to you.

You hear him behind you, clambering through the bushes. Your heart leaps. The darkness makes you forget this is all pretend. You run without a light, dashing down the narrow path and squinting for even a glimpse of street light. You need to get out of the bushes otherwise you risk falling on your face, then he will be right on top of you in seconds. But running on the road will expose you too quickly.

You will not surrender that easily. He knows that.

Torn between the garden and the road, you get a brilliant idea. You dash back onto the street and hope it takes him a minute to follow. He is not behind you so you race back to his house.

There is no way he will circle back here. He knows you want a chase, so a chase is what he anticipates. He would never guess you ran back into his house. Oh, you can’t wait for the look on his face when he finds you perched on his bed, feigning boredom as you wait.

You run back up the driveway. The front door is closed and you crash right into it, assuming it would be unlocked. Nope. He locked it. Maybe that is why he was delayed.

You spin around, halfway expecting to find him there, ready to push you up against his door and cage you in. But no, you are still winning. He is undoubtedly still running through those bushes. He will circle the whole block before heading back here.

You hurry down the side of the house, looking for any open windows. You do not think he had time to set the alarm. Did he? Maybe that is why he was so far behind.

The side gate is unlocked so you slip into the backyard. You come to a surprised stop because it is a beautiful landscape. The greenery is pristine and there are little couches and chairs scattered around. There is a shed, some storage trunks, a fire pit. In the middle of everything is a pool, sparkling blue in the golden lamplight. Of course.

You do not rush. You cross the yard in a slow walk, taking a moment to catch your breath. You strategize your next move. Should you pose on one of the pool chairs? Wait by his back door and knock when he gets home?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a low hum. Someone is making their way down the side of the house.

You panic. You are often caught scampering around places you are not supposed to be, so instinct propels you to hide. You run to one of the storage trunks and duck behind it.

No sooner have you hidden does Felix stroll into the backyard. He is a little dishevelled, a few strands of hair escaping from his half-ponytail, but he seems mostly unbothered. He moves at a leisurely pace, humming to himself as he swings the gate open.

He pauses there, leaning against the tall fence. You are quite certain the world has never been this quiet.

“I know you’re here,” Felix says, his deep voice shattering the silence.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You should have known better. Of course he had the same idea as you. Now what? How can you outsmart someone who can predict your every move?

You peek around the storage trunk. Felix is smiling, all dimples and delight. Even his eyes are glittering as he swings the gate shut. He looks across the yard as he curls his fist around the padlock. He slams it shut, effectively locking you in with him.

So that is why he took so long. He unlocked the gate before giving chase. He laid a trap and you ran right into it.

His walk is more of a prowl, a slow but steady tread across the grass.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs, uncannily chipper.

You cannot believe you are about to be beaten so quickly. It has your head spinning, your heart racing from your run, your adrenaline pounding as he approaches.

Your heart tempers itself when he stops. He pokes his head around the fire pit to see if you are hiding there.

“Sweetheart,” he says, casting his gaze around the yard. “You don’t need to hide. I promise I’m not mad.” He strolls around the pool, looking from here to there, even up at the trees. He hums thoughtfully to himself. “Now, now… If I was a troublemaker who needed to learn a lesson, where would I hide…” He ducks behind a pool chair, frowning. “Hmm, hmm, hmm…”

He stands for a minute, tapping his chin. You want to glean some semblance of your surroundings, but you do not want to take your eyes off him. You are convinced if you do, he will manifest right beside you. So you look at the house then at him, the gate then at him, the trees then at him. You almost want to scream. He is not even moving and he has you completely captivated, every last sense in your body attuned to him.

“Pleeeeease,” he says in a long drawl, a cute little tone. He ambles over to a different storage trunk and lifts the lid. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

He slams the lid down so hard it makes the unit wobble. Even though you are far away, it makes you jump. You have to cover your mouth to stop a yelp from escaping.

You stare as he leans over the other unit, peering behind it. He huffs in frustration when he finds nothing. Despite the angry grimace, when he stands upright, he is wearing that saccharine smile.

“You’re hurting my feelings, sweetheart,” he says. “I thought we were turning into friends. Don’t you want to be my friend?”

He flings a chair out of his way, then swiftly drops to his knees to peer under the picnic table. He is getting closer, bit by bit, which is somehow more terrifying than if he beelined right at you.

He is giving you time, you realize. He wants you worked up. He wants your heart racing. He wants you quivering and soft and afraid.

You look around frantically, searching for an escape.

Your hope rises then plummets. The back door is ajar but that is an obvious trap. It leads into the house but there is no way you are crossing the yard without him seeing you.

You jump at another slam. It was the shed door. He is stepping inside it, rifling through the yard tools in case you are crouched inside.

“Come on,” he says into the shed. “Don’t be scared.”

You take a deep breath. You have only seconds to cross the yard while his back is turned. You do not waste another moment, jumping to your feet and running as quietly and as quickly as you can.

He is just as quiet. You shriek at the sudden arm that catches you, just like it did at the arena. Felix tackles you onto the grass again, pushing you down on your back and covering your mouth.

You wrestle him, just like last time, ignoring his laughter as you claw and bite at him.

“You’re a little mean, you know that?” he says, waving his hand after narrowing dodging your teeth. He dives back in, undeterred, grabbing your face in one hand. “Yeah, that’s it,” he says. “Fight me. Brat.”

You do not surrender easily, but he manhandles you with the same effortless skill as before. There is no doubt he has training that you lack, flipping you in his arm then pushing you down on your front. You kick your legs as he straddles your backside. He brings your hands together on the base of your spine.

You know what is coming and it makes you shriek with frustration. Just like last time, he slaps the handcuffs on your wrists and locks your hands behind your back.

“You stupid little—” you start, your words stifled when he puts his hand over your mouth and yanks your head up. He holds the handcuff key in front of your face, then makes a show of throwing it. You are pretty sure it is still in his fist, but the very idea has you whimpering into his palm.

“That’s better,” he says, slowly taking his hand off your mouth. It hovers like he expects you to start screaming. You just exhale heavily, glaring. “All right,” he says. “Very good. Come on.”

You play at obedience long enough to get off the ground. He helps you stand, then you immediately kick at him. He tries to grab your leg but you dodge the swipe of his hand, running the opposite way.

Your balance is thrown, dizzy from the takedown and the handcuffs. He catches you quickly. You yelp when he sweeps you off your feet, boasting all that hidden strength again.

He carries you over to the deck where he drops down, sitting with his legs spread to fit you in between. With your back to his front, he pulls you against him, an arm across your chest to keep you pinned together.

“Oh fuck you,” you say, wriggling helplessly.

“Not quite,” he says, laughing. “I’ve been picturing something else.”

He covers your mouth again, catching your shriek when he tugs your shirt open. The flannel falls down your shoulders and he yanks the tank top down, getting a handful of everything you inadvertently flashed him earlier.

Despite the force of his initial touch, he is not rough. You might have kept your cool if he was; you are used to rough, fast, hard. But his hand is tender, almost loving, a slow touch that trails from your neck down your chest, thumb circling the peak of your nipple before he squeezes your curves in the cup of his hand. It is maddeningly slow and careful, your whining trapped in the palm of his hand.

“This is what I was picturing,” he says. It sounds like a growl, his deep tone just above a rough whisper. His lips graze your ear and you shiver.

You gasp, taking in deep gulps of air when he frees your mouth. A weak whimper is all you manage when he hooks his legs around yours and pries them apart. His hand dives down to your shorts, making swift work of the buttons.

“Yup, just what I thought,” he says as his fingers sink inside you. “Do you feel that?” he asks, as if your attention could be on anything but the thorough, rolling touch of his fingers, torturing the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs. He slides his fingers into you with no resistance whatsoever. He starts finger-fucking you, laughing when you moan, when you rear up under his hand for more. “Mmm, yeah, you want it don’t you?” You try to resist but it is hard, especially when he teases you, making you chase him with your hips. He just laughs again, slowing his touch maddeningly. “God, that’s hot,” he says. “You might be a brat but your pussy... It’s begging for it, isn’t it? Does it like this, sweetheart, hmm? Hmm?”

He is absolutely torturing you, rubbing those swollen nerves to the crest of an orgasm then withdrawing, again and again, until you swear it burns. You make a strangled sound, clutching his hand on your chest, still cupped possessively on your naked breast.

“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me how much you want me to make you come.”

“Mmmph,” is your oh-so intelligent reply.

“You can do better than that,” he says. “Come on. Show me how much you want it. You can’t lie to me, sweetheart. I can feel it, hmm? Gonna feel it when you come. Gonna feel your pussy get nice and tight around my fingers, asking for it, baby—oh yeah, what’s that? What’s it want?”

“Ugh, fuck you,” you whine.

“Nuh-uh, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuck you. You can run that pretty mouth but I know what you really need. You’re gonna be begging me for my cock, to fill you up and make you feel all full for real. Isn’t that right? Go on. Show me you want it. Show me.”

Your chest is heaving. Your eyes close. You concentrate on that orgasm, chasing it desperately. It approaches rapidly and your thighs start shaking.

He covers your mouth again, once more predicting you. He knows you are about to come. This time he takes you right over, groaning in your ear, clutching you tight while never once slowing the deft thrust of his hand. You scream into his palm, the intensity of the orgasm washing over you. The blue light of the pool flickers even with your eyes closed, seeing nothing but blue, blue, blue. He surrounds you, his voice, his moans, his touch.

Your hips buck, your heart skipping a frantic beat when pleasure turns to sensitivity. He chuckles but stops, dropping his hand off your mouth. You catch your breath, slumping against his chest.

He touches your face with the hand he just used to fuck you, wet fingers streaking across your mouth as he turns your head. You blink at him and part your lips just for him to shove his fingers in your mouth. You cannot help but moan, eyes closing as you suck the tangy wetness right off his fingers. You watch when he takes them back, when he licks them for himself. Strands of blue fall across his forehead. He looks as flushed and filthy as you feel.

He grins around his fingers. Then he grabs the back of your neck and pulls your face to his. He kisses you for the first time with the taste of your pussy on both your mouths. His kiss is deep and bold, as if you are already his. You are dizzy when he stops, gasping when he pecks your lips with sweet, chaste little kisses.

“Gonna uncuff you now,” he says softly. “Because for what we do next…” He grabs you by the throat and you mewl, clenching around nothing when he rolls his hips under you, showing you how hard he is. “Yeah, sweetheart. For that, I need all of you.”

You sit quietly while he uncuffs you. You feign complacency, standing on shaky legs when he guides you upright. You fix your shirt, glaring at him, though it is a little harder while you are still catching your breath.

He was right about one thing; you need him like you have never needed anyone. You are throbbing, completely and totally aching with the loss of his touch. You have never felt such clear pulsations, your body begging for more even while your expression is petulant.

You follow him to the open door. One step, two steps.

Then you say, “Blue.”

You take off running into the house.

He laughs incredulously, not even making an attempt to grab you.

He slams the door shut behind him. You skid to a stop in the hall, listening to the gentle beeping of the alarm as he arms it from the inside. It is the same quiet threat as the padlock; there is no escape.

Giddy, excited, practically vibrating with anticipation, you run and hide. There are boxes and tables piled high with gadgetry, not to mention his couch and bookshelves and general appliances. Plenty more places to hide than that big back yard. And when he finally does find you, when you have worked him up the way he worked you up—

That is what winning is all about.

You sit in your hiding place, breathing hard.

“Sweetheart,” Felix says in that too-sweet voice. His footsteps are slow, unhurried, casual. “Stop hiding. I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but if you keep this up…”

You peer at him between some boxes. He stops in the middle of the room, catching his breath too. The glittering amusement has left his eyes. They are narrowed, his flushed cheeks and sweaty hairline only exacerbating his predatory air.

He unties his half-ponytail, then bends over to run his fingers through the length of it. He flips back up, all that blue falling prettily in place. He licks his lips as he prowls through the room, looking behind boxes, ducking under tables.

You shuffle with him, moving when he does. He checks your previous hiding space with a jaunty, “A-ha!” then curses.

“Come on now,” he says, turning around. He smiles like a shark, all teeth, hungry despite the innocent flash of a dimple. “You’re only hurting yourself,” he says. “I know you, sweetheart. You’re in here somewhere, and you can’t tell me you’re not thinking about what it’s gonna feel like when I catch you, yeah? Hmm. You’re fast. I bet you’re flexible too. I bet I can get you into all sorts of positions. Get you making all sorts of noises for me…”

It is a struggle to be quiet as you move. Your limbs are still shaky. Every word out of his mouth makes your breath catch.

You swallow hard, freezing when he pauses. Did he hear that? Maybe not. He turns the other way, heaving a deep sigh before he laughs. It lacks amusement, a harsh sound as he turns and turns.

“Come out, come out,” he sing-songs. In a harder voice, he snaps, “Stop hiding from me.” Then he smiles again. He turns in your direction slowly. “You’re not scared of me, are you?”

You cover your mouth, cowering down when he seems to look right at you. Your heart is pounding so hard, you would not be surprised if he could hear it, even feel it, shaking this whole damn house.

“If you come out on your own,” he says, “I promise to make you feel good. You’ll come so hard, you’ll forget how scared you are.”

You keep that hand over your mouth, fighting to keep quiet. It stifles a shriek when he suddenly waves at you, a drole little finger-wiggle.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he says. He crouches down, putting himself at eye-level, peering between the boxes that shield you. “Don’t make me come get you,” he says. “I’ve been nice, haven’t I? Don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”

You shuffle to the side. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head while he laughs.

“Right,” he says. “Fine. We’ll do it that way.”

You bolt when he does, shrieking as you clamber around some equipment to get away. You manage to escape to the foyer, cursing when the automatic lights flash on. It feels like a spotlight, illuminating you in the middle of that big empty space with no where to hide.

You can hear Felix stomping after you. You scurry into the kitchen, looking around frantically for somewhere to hide.

You yelp when he bursts in behind you. This time, he does not give. He grabs you roughly when you try to run again. With very little effort, like you are scarcely more than a mild inconvenience, he lifts you off your feet and slings you over his shoulder. He says nothing while you curse and squirm and slap his back.

“You know what I wonder?” he eventually says, marching you right into the bedroom. “I wonder… if I make you cry, is that gonna make you tighter, you think?” He slides you down his body, holding you flush against him. He smiles. “Worth a shot, no?”

And then he handcuffs your wrist to his wrist and tosses the key across the room.

“Oops,” he says.

He grabs your throat and you gasp, spilling onto the bed when he pushes you. He puts your on your back then straddles your chest, swiftly unbuttoning his jeans.

“Open up,” he says, practically prying your mouth open, just giggling when you bite at him. “If you bite me,” he says, two fingers shoved deep in your mouth, “I promise, I’ll give you something to be fucking scared of.”

You were right. You will never see the colour blue the same way again. You will never be able to settle for anything less than Felix again.

With a whimpery sigh, you relent, blissful as your mouth falls open. He shoves his clothes out of his way, just enough. He is rock hard and wet at the tip when he guides your mouth around his dick. He cradles your head gently, even if the rest of him is not gentle.

You moan, your pussy literally twitching for attention as he shoves into your throat and makes your eyes water. You take him well and he groans, pulsing in your mouth when tears start running down your face. He fucks your mouth and throat, a back and forth that has your seeing stars. Eventually he pulls back, laughing as runs his fingers through his hair.

“Oh, baby,” he says. He reaches down to wipe a tear. “I wanted to do that the second you started mouthing off to me.”

“Asshole,” you say, though it comes out with a giggle.

He laughs, sliding down your body to get between your legs. He gets your shorts and underwear out of his way, kissing across your pussy and up your stomach. He lifts your shirt and crosses your breasts with his mouth, leaving little bite marks in his wake.

With the hand cuffed to yours, he interlocks your fingers sweetly, pressing it into the mattress. Then he swoops up. He kisses you, his tongue a soothing touch after everything.

You moan, literally shaking with need as he smiles against your lips. He speaks in that low, rasping voice when he says, “I can’t wait to see the look on your face when you realize you’re gonna come all over my cock.”

“Oh god,” is your rough reply.

“It’s Felix,” he says. “You’re gonna be screaming it in a second, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

He has a condom in his bedside drawer. Though you see him put it on, he still leans down to dirty talk, holding your throat as he whispers, “Was gonna be nice and wrap it, but you don’t like it nice, do you?” He spreads your legs with his own, pushing down with his hips. You whimper when the head of his cock glides over where you are very wet and very needy. “No, sweetheart,” he says. “I’m gonna have all of you. And you – are gonna – take it.”

He punctuates this with short thrusts, gradually easing inside you. You moan, canting your hips to meet him, needing more. When he starts fucking you in earnest, your whole body gets pliant like it never has before. You let him hold you, tethered to him by the handcuffs and something else, something to do with those feelings inside you. You let them melt into the physical sensations. When he touches you, working you into an orgasm while he is deep inside you, it all washes over you. You come with a cry, screaming his name just like he said.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he says. Your bodies are flush together, chests touching, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. His face is in your neck when he laughs. It is not a fake laugh, not coloured darkly, but ringing with true amusement. “What’s your name?” he asks.

You laugh too, whispering it against his mouth when he leans in to kiss you. He groans, kissing you, and says your name against your lips when he comes. It binds you to him more effectively than the handcuffs.

You lay there for some time afterward, all that pent-up adrenaline taking its time to dwindle. He lays on your chest, your free hand in his hair, stroking it. Eventually he looks at you with wide eyes.

“I’m not, you know, like that, I mean—” he says.

“I know,” you reply, massaging the nape of his neck. You get uncharacteristically bashful. Usually your partners, being more dominant, are the ones offering consolation to you, and you seldom need much. Felix, you can tell, needs something, and it draws something out of you that you hardly knew existed. Something tender and soft, that enjoys touching him and soothing him and making him smile.

“Do you still have that, uh, feeling?” he later asks.

You nod. He smiles.

“Me too,” he says.

“That’s nice. Can we get the handcuff key now?” you ask, making him laugh.

The handcuffs end up on the floor with your clothes.

This is usually the part where you run away, but you think you are done with running for a while. You lay down with Felix, side by side, washed in the neon blue light. You take a breath and roll onto his chest, resting your head there, and he runs a hand down your back in a soft caress.

“I’m just glad I didn’t wax for no reason,” you break the silence, making him snort. He slaps a hand over his face, shaking his head. “What! Don’t look at me like that or I’ll try and sneak into another concert when you’re on the clock.”

“Mm, will you?” he asks, grinning. “I better be prepared.”

“Oh no, I’m not messing with you. I’m picking an easier target next time.”

“I’ll find you anyway,” he says. “Can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

“Hmm,” you say, hiding your face because that squishy feeling in your chest is back. “I still won this round.”

He lifts your face so he can look at you. Your eyes close when he swoops in and kisses you. You can’t even pretend to be annoyed with him anymore. Vexatious vixen, indeed.

“I think,” he says, “we might have tied this round, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you say. You kiss again, long and sweet. Then you bop him on the nose. “But next time it’ll be me.”

He sighs but smiles, shaking his head. Then he cups your face and pulls you in for another kiss.

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #skz x you #stray kids x you

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starkidmunson · 1 year ago

Text

glitter & crimson

It’s both exciting and terrifying to be in Chicago when they arrive Thursday afternoon. This is, unfortunately, very often as close to hometown shows as the band gets to these days. They have the night off, before the show tomorrow, when the band will find out if Steve and his friends actually show up to the gig or not. Despite not having a show, the band doesn’t get the whole day off; Paige had booked a few radio interviews before the gig to drum up attention.

He should have seen it coming when the radio host brought up the TikTok exchange. “So, be honest, have you guys coordinated with Harrington and his friends to get him to your show tomorrow?”

“Not really. Our manager sent info and Steve gave it a thumbs up, but that’s really been it? But we’ve been busy with shows almost every night, and he’s had a lot of travel games the last few days, so we’ll have to wait and see if he’s able to make it out.” Jeff takes over the answer with ease, probably having predicted the attention.

“Did you really not recognize him, Eddie?” The host goads and Eddie lets himself chuckle.

“It may sound kind of ridiculous, but the genuine answer is yeah. I haven’t seen him in, like, 6 years. And, believe it or not, we didn’t exactly run in the same crowds. We knew of one another, I think, but there were hundreds of kids in our school.” Eddie always defaults to the truth in interviews; it’s the simplest route and leaves less room for people to poke holes in the narrative if he’s just honest.

“Will you guys be going to the Blackhawks game on Saturday?”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, man,” Gareth laughs, and just as quickly as the segment started, it’s over with their own latest hit playing them out of the studio.

A Thursday night off in the city wasn’t the most exciting thing in the world, but the band collectively made a trip to the bar closest to their hotel for wings and a few drinks. One of the guys must have posted something on social media about being out because as Eddie’s walking into his hotel, he happens to check his TikTok to find a message waiting for him.

harrington94 should I take it personally that you guys went out in my town and didn’t ask for recs or anything?

eddiecc I honestly figured you’d be too busy and didn’t want to bother you.

harrington94 never too busy to show a friend around town. But I do appreciate having a down day, so thanks.

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure how to answer as he processed Steve’s message. Friends? Is that what they were? Could they even really consider one another that? He ultimately decided not to think too much of it, in favor of keeping the conversation going. Maybe the more they talked, the less awkward the next two nights would be.

eddiecc I totally get it if you want to skip the show in favor of another down day.

harrington94 no backing out on me now, Munson. I’ve finally got the cool card with the Party. We’ll be there, no doubt.

Eddie feels a little smile creep over his face and his ears feel a little warm, but before he can answer that, text bubbles pop up again. He waits to see what else Steve is going to say before he does something embarrassing.

harrington94 now feels like a safe time to confess that I haven’t really listened to much of your music, though, so don’t think I’m rude if I’m not headbanging along with the boys.

That was more like the interaction Eddie had expected from their TikTok exchange. He never expected Steve to know their music and was shocked he even knew their band name when his response had been posted on TikTok.

eddiecc I honestly cannot exactly say I’m surprised to hear this. You never exactly struck me as a headbanger, anyway.

harrington94 i feel like that’s some kind of thinly veiled insult that I’m missing, but you’re not wrong.

The text bubbles appear again, and Eddie waits for him to finish the thought rather than respond.

harrington94 why don’t you text me instead? It feels easier than paying attention to this app I don’t really know how to use.

Eddie was quick to copy the number Steve sent and shoot off a text, weirdly enjoying the exchange the two were having and not ready to call it a night just yet.

__________

A particularly ridiculous meme from Eddie had Steve snorting from his spot lounging across the sofa. The next thing he knew, a pillow was flying at his face. He was able to react quickly enough to block it with his arm, dropping the phone to his chest, before glaring at Robin. She was watching him from the recliner across the living room.

“What the fuck?” He asks, tossing the pillow back in her general direction, more gently than she’d tossed it his way.

“You’re grinning at your phone like you’re setting up a hot date. Please don’t tell me you’re talking to Heidi again.” Robin pleads dramatically, twisting her body in the chair to face him.

“I’m not grinning at my phone, shut up.” He grumbles, ignoring how hot his neck feels as he blushes. Instead, he picks his phone back up to finish the thought he’d been typing before he’d been interrupted. “I’m just texting with Eddie, that’s all.”

Robin’s eyes widened immediately, and she sprung from the recliner toward the sofa. “Give me your phone!” She demands, grunting as she fell face first into the sofa, missing Steve by an inch. He manuveres away from her without looking up from his phone, making his way down the hall to his room. “Steve, come on!”

“It’s not a big deal! We’re just talking! It’s fine!” He insists, tucking the phone into his back pocket as he turns into his bedroom.

But maybe it was a big deal? Steve couldn’t tell; this was the part he was never really good at. He had a tendency to miss signs everyone else thought were obvious, and he didn’t want to risk making things weird with Eddie if Robin thought he was missing something that wasn’t actually there. The texts with Eddie had shifted from Steve confessing his knowledge of Corroded Coffin was strictly limited to whatever the Party played in the car when he drove them places, to Eddie confessing he knew next to nothing about hockey. It seemed to level the playing field between the two of them, and at least made Steve feel more at ease about the time they’d be spending together between the concert and the game.

When Steve had asked how the tour was going so far, Eddie had shared a link to an instagram, where fans were finding something to meme from each night of the shows. To which Jeff and Gareth were making memes in response, picking on one another in a way that felt like with some of his teammates. The message that had prompted the most reaction from Steve was the last thing Eddie had sent before Robin threw the pillow; a meme of Eddie looking confused, which Jeff had edited “So he’s not Joe Jonas?” over his head.

In his room, Steve leans over to pick up his charger, but he feels his phone lift free from his pocket. “Hey!” He calls after Robin, who’s sprinting down the hallway, laughing like the menace she is.

“I just want to see what you’re talking about!” Robin says, unlocking his phone. He’s just about to catch up to her, as she slides on her socks into her bedroom, closing the door behind her, right in his face.

“You’re being a child, Robs, c’mon. Give me my phone back.” He sighs, resting his forehead against the door. He jiggles the handle, but as he’d guessed, she’d locked it behind her.

“Do you like him?” She asks through the door, and he sighs again.

“I don’t know,” He answers, honestly and exhaustedly. “I don’t even know him, you know? We weren’t friends, it’s not like I could tell you anything about him other than Tommy used to buy weed from him and he would stand on tables and yell in the cafeteria.”

There’s a long silence before Robin opens the door, meeting Steve with a little smile. She shoves the phone back into his chest and pats his hand when he takes it from her. “I think this could be good for you. That this could be good for you.”

“I’m trying not to read too hard into it.” Steve mumbles, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He glances back down at the screen, to see what while Robin had taken the phone, Eddie had sent another text.

Eddie: How were your games? Are you doing anything special for your day off?

It makes something twist in his chest, that Eddie even cares, and he doesn’t quite know why. It must show on his face, some part of how he’s feeling, because Robin just smiles and nods. Maybe she knows how he feels, part of their weird unspoken telepathy, because she walks further into her room and pats the edge of her bed as she goes.

“Are you going to let me paint your nails for the concert?” She asks. Everything inside of Steve appreciates how she always knows when to give him space to try and figure his shit out on his own.

“Obviously.” He laughs softly, following her into the bedroom to sit on her bed and watch her move around collecting things to paint his nails.

~~~

The following day, Steve spends more time than he would like to admit picking out an outfit to wear to the concert. He can hear the Party starting to get antsy in the living room, even though they’d still be plenty early if they left right now, so he decides to just roll with the white shirt and fitted khakis he’d dressed himself in several hours ago before he started overthinking his choices. He finished the outfit off with a black zip-up fleece and black and white Nikes.

A final check of his hair had him walking out of his room and into the living room, where chaos erupted.

“It’s about time!” Dustin exclaims, practically bouncing up and down with excitement on the sofa.

“It took you that long to come out looking like that?” Mike asks, but Max just snorts and shoves his shoulder.

“Let’s just go.” Steve rolls his eyes, glancing over at Robin who jingles car keys she’s already holding, before leading the way out of the apartment.

In the car, he shoots Eddie a quick text to let him know they’re on the way. Eddie’s quick to reply, giving the message a thumbs-up reaction. Unbelievably, the Party somehow manages to get even louder than usual once they were inside, and it doesn’t take long for a security guard to find them. They’re led through the back tunnels of Wintrust Arena, and Steve gets a little nostalgic for playing hockey in college. He’s snapped out of it when a girl passes out their pass lanyards and gives each of the Party a voucher for free drinks and snacks.

“This is too much, really,” Steve protests as she hands him the voucher, but Paige insists with a kind smile.

“We get this kind of stuff from every venue and rarely get to use it to its full extent. The guys want to do this for you and your friends, just enjoy it.”

The Party loads up on treats at the nearest food station, while Steve and Robin grab beers with Paige. As she collects her drink, Paige hands Steve a palm-sized bag of earplugs. He frowns at them, which makes her laugh.

“Eddie said this isn't really your usual kind of scene, and these shows can get loud,” she taps her own ears to show she has similar earplugs in. “Should also help prevent headaches or anything else that might keep you off the ice tomorrow.”

“Please, he’s too stubborn to stay off the ice. The amount of migraines he’s played through is outrageous,” Dustin bounds back into the conversation, earning a chuckle from Robin. Steve throws his arm around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him just a little too close and too tight. Dustin exaggerates choking noises, flailing around and making a scene, but Steve refuses to let up.

_____

There’s more anxiety than usual thrumming through Eddie as he and Jeff make their way through the arena, to where Paige had said she’d take Steve and his friends for snacks. As they walk up on the group, however, Steve quickly pulls a younger boy with a head full of curls into a headlock. He lets the scene continue for a moment before he nudges Jeff.

“At what point fo you think we should intervene?” He asks with a smile, making Jeff chuckle. Steve, however, freezes, then shoves Dustin away. He turns to give Eddie a sheepish smile, and Eddie can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

Steve lets out a huff of a laugh, running his fingers through his hair, shrugging and tipping his head in the boy’s direction. “This is Dustin. He’s like my little brother. I’m allowed to pick on him when he’s being a shithead.” Dustin nudges his elbow into Steve’s gut, who’s quick to smack his arm in response. Before Eddie can stop himself, he’s twisting a curl around his finger and biting back a grin. He does, however, make a conscious effort to not chew on his hair. He knows he’d never hear the end of it, fawning over Steve Harrington after a whole 10 seconds.

Eddie offers a hand out to Dustin, hoping Jeff and Paige would let his little tells fly under the radar. Just this once, they seem to, as he greets the Party. “Hey man, I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are, holy shit, man.” Dustin eventually fumbles through, shaking Eddie’s hand and grinning up at him.

Steve rattles off the introductions for each kid, like a proud mom, and Eddie greets each of them politely, but his eyes keep falling back on Steve. He catches his little smiles and the way he nudges different members of the Party, squeezes their shoulders, ruffles their hair. It’s gentle and sweet and it sends a warm feeling through Eddie’s chest. His smile softens as he watches their interactions. All too soon, Freak leans into the area they’ve gathered in and whistles.

“Shit, guys, we gotta go.” Jeff sighs, and Eddie pats his shoulder before he turns back to the group with a grin.

“Just hang with Paige and try not to get into too much trouble, we’ll get drinks after?” Eddie asks, looking at Steve, who smiles back and gives a little nod.

As Eddie runs to catch up with Jeff and Freak, he wonders exactly what he’s gotten himself into here.

____

It’s more fun than Steve expects, the concert. The excitement of watching the show from the suite quickly bores the Party, as they realize it’s the same as watching hockey games from a guest box. They eat their snacks and drink some through the openers, but during the break before Corroded Coffin, Lucas and Dustin drag Steve around to the side stage. Robin promises to stay with the others, and reminds Steve to wear the earplugs.

He’s grateful Paige had slipped them to him as they get beside the stage and he realizes just how loud the crowd is when the lights go down. From where they’re standing sidestage, he can see Eddie, Jeff, Gareth and Freak in a little huddle. They bounce around with their arms around each others backs, before yelling something Steve can’t quite make out. They’re handed their instruments by the crew. As they’re taking the stage, Eddie walks up in their direction and pokes his tongue out at them, before ripping into a guitar riff to make his entrance.

Despite himself, Steve finds his head bobbing along to the drum beat, and even sings along to the songs he recognizes. It’s hard to take his eyes off Eddie through the whole production. He’s a little ball of energy, bounding around from one end of the stage to the other, bantering with the other guys in the band and drawing the fans into his chaos during talking breaks. During a drum solo, Eddie climbs onto the front of the kit and holds his guitar up in the air over his head. Steve watches, mesmerized, as Eddie holds his gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity but is probably only a few seconds. Eddie winks at Steve, then, before he leaps back into yet another riff. It shouldn’t have had so much of an impact, but Steve finds it kind of takes his breath away.

It’s over before long, and Paige is quick to guide Steve and the boys back to the club box. He smiles as they walk behind Dustin and Lucas, gushing over how great the show was. Back in the box, Steve and Paige agree to meet across the street at Fatpour. He charms his way into using the upstairs as a private room with a signature to the manager and flashes a smile and wave to the few people downstairs who seem to have recognized him.

The band makes a loud entrance as the Party works their way through appetizers, and Eddie is quick to find his way to Steve. “You seemed to have enjoyed yourself, was it more fun than you expected?” He asks around a grin.

“I never said I wasn’t going to have a good time,” Steve defended through a smile, making Eddie laugh and Steve thinks that might be the best sound he’d heard all night, despite having just seen the concert. Eddie glances around then, locking eyes with a bartender to get their attention.

“What’s your poison?” Eddie asks in the most cliche way, wiggling his eyebrows a little, but Steve shakes his head.

“Strictly on water tonight. Gotta get up early tomorrow.” He says, and Eddie softens and nods. Once their drinks are in front of them, he holds his glass up to Steve in a mock toast.

“To making it the fuck out of Hawkins?”

“Cheers to that.” Steve laughs, clanking their glasses together and taking a sip.

“Any reason you stayed in the Midwest?” Eddie asks, before he can stop himself. “Sorry, you don’t have to… you don’t owe me an explanation.”

“Nah, it’s… a few reasons. Couldn’t go too far without them, and most of ‘em followed me here, anyway. And then the chips fell and I ended up on the Blackhawks and there’s kind of no other team I’d rather play for.” Steve explains, leaning a little closer to Eddie with a smile. “Speaking of; are you ready for the game?”

Eddie can’t help but grin back at Steve and laugh a little. “You know, I honestly have no idea what I’m getting in to here. All I remember from watching games on TV is that it’s violent.”

“Not always.” Steve defends quickly, before showing a slight mercy. “It’s cold in there, because of the ice. You’ll want to wear layers.”

“Layers. Noted.” Eddie stores the information away for tomorrow, suddenly concerned he hadn’t even thought about an outfit for the game before the conversation.

As they talk, Robin appears with a basket of cheese curds but pulls it away as Eddie reaches to take one.

“What’s your favorite movie?” She asks, and Steve laughs and shakes his head at her.

“Is this a quiz? I’m not good at tests, I flunked out of senior year.” Eddie whines before he stops to think about it. “Uh, well. The answer you’d probably expect from me is Almost Famous, but it’s actually a close second to Dead Poets Society.”

She narrows her eyes at him but slides the basket in his direction. “I can’t tell if you picked either of those because you thought it was the answer I wanted, or because they’re actually your favorite, so I have to give you curds.”

“They’re actually my favorites!” Eddie laughs around a mouthful of cheese curds.

“Dead Poets is one of Robin’s favorites, too.” Steve offers, and Robin nods.

“Steve will tell you his favorite movie is Risky Business, because he thinks Tom Cruise is hot, but it’s actually Go Figure. You know, the Disney movie about the ice skater who joins her school’s hockey—” Robin is grinning until Steve clasps a hand over her mouth.

“Robin is incredibly annoying when she wants to be,” He grumbles, and Eddie can’t help but laugh at their antics.

“Well, now you’ve got my attention. If Go Figure isn’t your favorite movie, what is?” Eddie asks.

Steve thinks for a moment. “I think Back to the Future feels like a safe answer.” He shrugs, and Eddie glances at Robin to gauge her reaction. She seems to approve, as she gives Steve a soft smile, pats his back, then stands from their table.

“I’ll leave you two alone, I suppose.” She says, leaning close to both of them. “Behave, got it? No funny business before the game.”

Steve flushes and flounders a little, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he just huffs and takes a sip from his water. While Eddie feels his whole face get hot in a blush, he can’t help but laugh a little.

“Is there funny business we could have gotten up to?” He dares to ask, and it’s worth it just to watch the way Steve blushes and bites at his lip.

“Maybe. But I guess you’ve got to wait until after tomorrow’s game to find out.”

________________________________________________________

Wow! Thank you all so much for the overwhelming support you’ve shown this little idea I had! I might just keep this going as a series, with updates on Mondays (Tuesdays at the latest). This is also double the word count of part 1, oops, lol.

I'm going to try to tag everyone in the replies because I hit the character limit! Tumblr wouldn't take them all, so sorry to everyone I missed, I still love you and appreciate the support!

#steddie #steddie hockey au #steddie rockstar au #rockstar!eddie munson #hockey player!steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #dustin henderson #corroded coffin #stranger things #starkidmunson writes #glitter & crimson

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marsoid · 5 months ago

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answering these in one go

i got Sugar off a craigslist ad in 2016. she was listed for $9k but i got her for $8800, the seller knocked down the price literally just because he was nice and could tell i loved the car so much 🥹 my bank wouldn't let me pull out all the cash at once so i drove her home and paid him that Monday which is CRAZY but he trusted me to pay him and i did

when i first got her she didn't have power steering or power brakes (turned like a land yacht and stopped when she felt like it) so that was the first thing to address. fixed the horn and some other minor stuff that needed it. i also made the decision to replace the carburetor with EFI, which is kind of controversial in the classic car world lol but it's more fuel efficient

the EFI i had installed actually gave me the most problems over the years it was ALWAYS having issues and breaking down. but i recently had it reinstalled by someone who is NOT an idiot and I've had no problems for like 2 solid years I'm so fucking glad lol now she's more reliable than ever

she has a 350 small block V8 and auto transmission since she's my daily driver and allows for the smoothest ride possible as a commuter car. i don't race but she is fast lmao. I've never put pedal to metal but I've gotten her up to 80mph before without even flooring it so 😭 she can fucking Go lol. she kind of defaults to 30mph coasting so i have to have my foot on the brake to keep the speed limit in residentials

what else uhhh the cabin smells so good.... i love old car smell. I'm so lucky in her 53 years of being on the road she's apparently never had an owner that smoked inside the car i would have gone crazy if it smelled like cigarettes in there lmao

she has bench seats in the front and back which are like two little sofas. i used to nap back there on breaks when i was still working at a studio.

she has no airbags and you have to tighten the seatbelts yourself. there's an over the shoulder belt and separate waist belt. the passenger shoulder belt you gotta tug on after clicking it bc sometimes it comes loose on its own 😭 she is a death machine with no crumple zone so if i crash i will die 👍🏾 but I'm a very cautious driver and i don't even drive that much sooo IT'S FINE

she is very low tech besides the EFI and if there's ever an engine problem u can literally just look under the hood and mess with stuff until it's fixed. it's very spacious in there with a lot of room to poke around. cars in the 70s were made to last and because they are still so beloved to this day there's endless info online from enthusiasts about fixing stuff that pops up. some companies are still making new parts for classics so we don't have to dig through junkyards when we need replacements... unless u want to ofc, the hunt can be fun too LOL

i get people waving me down daily to ask me what year she is and tell me they used to have a Nova when they were younger or knew someone that did and how much they loved them and IDK IT'S SWEET!! ppl are always so happy to see her......... the antithesis of the cybertruck

thanks for reading here's some thirst traps

#ask mars #sugar

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such-a-daydreamer · 21 days ago

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*flutters eyelashes*

Me when I oc x cannon but it's platonic and I also get to expand on pre-existing lore with my random ass world building.

Check under the cut for a fic drabble of this scene and the oc info

My Gf Oc Manny!!♡♡ :3 (I want to be him so bad the gender envy hits HARD grrrgrrgrgrgrgrrrgrgrgrgrr)

He is a closeted gay man and cursed so every cryptid in a 20 mile radius wants him dead.

Now onto the story explaining the comic scene!!!!!!!

Lil' warnin, but there be blood!!!

✄----------------------------------------------------

The three men wander the halls in silence, they each know the importance to stay quiet in times like this, and each man has decades of experience in stealth.

The hospital -a real classy choice- is full of spiderweb decor, and each room has decayed into an unrecognisable square full of debris and metal skeletons.

Stanley wishes he stayed in the van, while Ford's mind is occupied with suspicion regarding their new "travel companion."

"So, Manny," Ford breaks the silence with a directed whisper. He doesn't miss the way the other two flinch despite his soft volume. "Since you're the "renowned expert" when it comes to cryptids, I'd like to ask you about this particular case."

Stanley feels the tension crackle between them, and suddenly regrets standing in the middle. Then again, if they decide to jump at each other's throats, he'd better stay put. Not that he'd like to break up a fight in the middle of a possibly-haunted run-down hospital, but he's done worse in worse places.

"It's a curious case." Manny mumbles out. "I've never seen a ghost report like this before, but considering it seems to be a location-bound spirit, I'm not exactly surprised. They tend to get more bizzare the longer they "ferment."

"Location-bound?" Ford repeats.

Manny gives his rival a sideways smirk. "C'mon now, this is basic ghost knowledge. You tellin' me you don't know?"

"I prefer to sort them through catagories, is all." Ford dismisses the subject in favour of staring at his EMF reader.

Another round of tense silence goes by, yet the three of them have come across nothing. Stanley is beginning to think this is just a huge waste of time.

Manny holds a similar sentiment as he pauses to shine his UV light around one last time.

"Welp, if nothing has come to get us by now, there's probably nothing here. This place is a bust, let's wrap things up." He points his finger up and swirls it before pointing to the exit.

"What, just like that?" Stan grumbles out as he lowers the flashlight. "Ya couldn't have made that decision any further back?"

With the light now pointed at the floor, it leaves everything above their waists in a dark abyss. The only other light source is from the UV lamp Manny holds.

"Scared, are we?" Ford asks, but there's an undeniable mocking tilt to his tone.

Manny rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, the UV light in his hand makes the side of his shirt glow.

"No, it's just that I've got something you don't."

"And what's that?" Ford crosses his arms in a similar fashion.

Manny does a little flourish with his hands. "Magic."

Stan and Ford scoff in sync.

"I knew I shoulda stayed in the van." Stan begins to make his way back to the exit while the other two continue their squabble in the growing dark.

"So, this "magic" lets you know when ghosts are about?" Ford asks, partly curious, and partly to jeer at him.

Ford isn't poking fun at Manny because he doesn't believe in magic, it's just that if a spell to detect ghosts were in use, Ford would be able to tell. So far, Manny doesn't have anything on him that could be used for such a spell.

"Not just ghosts, but yes, it does. And it's totally real, by the way!" Manny spins on his heel to follow Stanley out before he pauses abruptly.

"Actually, nevermind. I think we've found our ghost."

Ford follows Manny's gaze down the empty corridor. The shine of the UV light does little to illuminate their surroundings, unlike the flashlight Stanley had.

Ford feels his blood run cold.

"Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking." Ford replies evenly.

"Really? Because you just broke the EMF reader."

Ford looks down to the cracked device in his hand. Alright, he'll admit this to himself and no one else, but he is very much panicking.

"The ghost didn't trigger the EMF reader, so it's not like we'll be needing this anyway." Ford throws the broken pieces to the side with a little more force than he intended.

"Uh... true, I suppose." Manny shines the UV light around the hallway before spotting drops shining against the cracked tiles. "Okay, we've got a lead, at least."

"And all it took was my brother to find it." Ford grits out under his breath.

Manny lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "I know you probably don't want to hear this right now -and certainly not from me- but let's try to calm down and keep a level head, alright?"

Ford shoots him a deadly glare, but Manny simply holds his gaze with a worried expression. Out of both of the twins, he likes Stanley more, so Ford isn't the only one concerned.

The trail leads to a room, a suspiciously empty room. The far back wall glows brightly under the shine of the UV light, and that's the only thing worth noting. Ford is reasonably upset once he realises Stanley isn't here, but trudges onward into the room anyway.

Ford stares at the wall curiously. He places a hand on it, and it feels completely normal. Dissapointed once again.

"I wonder why only this wall glows under ultra violet light..." Ford murmurs to himself as he raises a hand to place on his chin.

"Up."

"Pardon?"

Ford turns to Manny and sees his horrified expression. Before he has time to register that, something wet splatters against his glasses.

Manny lifts the UV light upwards just as Ford lifts his gaze.

"Ah, I see... Up."

There, strung up by limbs of what can only be assumed to be blood, is Stanley. He looks furious.

Behind him, flat against the roof, glows an almost cartoonish depiction of a human. They laugh, but there's no sound. Slowly, it removes itself from the roof and takes form. It shines hauntingly under the UV.

What first started as a light sprinkle, is now a full on downpour of blood as it looms above them. The stench of it makes Manny gag, but Ford just narrows his eyes at the being while it approaches slowly. It continues to laugh silently; that's the only thing that irks Ford.

"How do you suppose we kill this thing, Manny?"

Manny jolts a bit in surprise at being addressed, then strugles to form a sentence for a moment as he takes a step back.

"Wha- me??? I dunno, usually with ghosts I can just exorcize them with my medallion and be done with it, but that isn't a ghost." He points at the liquid mass that Stanley's struggling to escape from.

Both men would be worried about Stanley possibly suffocating from the stream of blood that covers the lower half of his face, but it doesn't seem to be covering his nose. Which, as relieved they both are, is still concerning.

Could it be using Stanley as bait? What is it planning? Whatever it is, no one's keen to find out.

It continues to move forward, almost sussing the two men out like they are to it. Ford mentally checks his inventory for a weapon that would do the most damage to a creature made of blood.

Predictably, nothing comes to mind.

He lets out a frustrated growl. "We have to do something."

Ford decides to take the inititive, seeing that he's the more capable one out of the two. Not that he's being presumptious of Manny's abilities, but the fact of the matter is that Manny is staring at the creature like a deer in headlights and Ford is inches away from trying to pummel a liquid.

Which also isn't good, but it's better. Ford will take better than nothing.

Flicking open one of his books from inside his coat, he searches through it until he finds what he's looking for.

"I believe this might be a failed resurection spell."

Ford pauses on an old partchment page in a plastic sleeve, the words are written in a dead language, but to Ford, it's like reading english.

"The closest I can find to-"

Ford doesn't get time to finish before he finds himself being shoved to the side. There's a split second where he sees Manny, then he doesn't.

A stream of blood slams Manny through the wall and leaves him lying in a pile of debris in the corridor. A pained groan proves that he's alive, so Ford returns his focus to the task at hand.

Despite the UV light now being broken, the mass of blood continues to glow.

"It would appear you've made your final assesment." Ford says to it while pocketing his book. He's read all he needs to, anyway.

It looses it's human form in favour of creating large waves to try and crash against Ford, but it underestimates his speed.

Manny stumbles back into the room with his madallion in hand. He raises it and the metal glows blue, acompanied by a low hum.

The blood spikes, then looses form. Most of the blood falls to the floor with Stanley, who wastes no time to put distance between it and himself.

Multiple souls writhe and scream as they try to escape the blood, but eventually they fade back into the mass. Manny lets his arm drop as he joins the other two men.

"There should be some sort of tether, we need to destroy it." Ford explains.

"There's a heart-" Stanley starts as he tries to wipe himself clean. He makes zero progress. "-Inside that thing somewhere. It kept movin' the damn thing around though, so I couldn't get a grip on it."

"That's fine, Stanley, thank you." Ford turns to Manny. "Do whatever you did before, and I'll shoot its heart."

Manny, although dazed, manages to nod and turns his attention to the growing ball of blood.

"Do you still have your flashlight, Stanley?" Ford asks as he pulls out his trusty gun. The line along the side of it's triangular barrel glows blue as it whirrs to life.

"Even if I did, it would've been chock-full of blood."

"Alright. Just stay behind me, then."

Begrudingly, Stanley complies. He wishes he could do more to help right now, but he has neither guns nor magic. He would offer to punch the thing, but he's been doing that for the last ten minutes and done no damage.

Once the ball reaches its previous size, jets of blood shoot out from it. Stan and Ford manage to dodge them but Manny gets clipped on the shoulder.

He stumbles back against the wall with a pained hiss. Yet he still manages to lift his hand up to activate the medallion. Ford takes aim.

The blood spikes again, more violently this time, before a large jet of blood slams against Manny.

"Dammit-!"

"Manny!"

Ford takes a shot in the dark, hoping to distract it.

The lazer passes through it with a sizzle as blood get evaporated. The light from the lazer briefly illuminates the inside of the blood enough for Ford to see the heart.

It stops the constant stream against Manny to turn its attention towards Ford. Manny falls to his knees and coughs violently.

"Sixer." Stan calls out to his brother with a warning tone.

"Manny, I'm counting on you here!" Ford takes aim again.

It takes the form of a human again and its expression is livid.

It lunges at Ford with its mouth open too wide for a human in something like a scream.

The being stops a mere inches away from Ford, its hands ghosting around Ford's neck before it writhes. Blue spikes jut out from it as it tries to keep form.

It takes a moment, but Ford can feel something on his shoulder. He glances to his left and sees Stanley with a handful of his coat, his stance tense and ready to run. Ford hasn't seen an expression this serious on his brother's face in a while as Stanley stares down the entity.

Ford returns his gaze forward.

For a split second, he sees the heart reveal itself.

He shoots.

✄----------------------------------------------------

Uhm!!! I like them all a lot :3 Mwah mwah mwah kisses to all. If you read allat then THANK YOU!!! I HOPE YOU LIKED IT!!!!! Lmk if you'd like to see more of this stuff idk

#fic drabble #stanford pines #stanley pines #gravity falls oc #oc x canon #me when platonic ships 😋😋😋👍😋👍👍#grunkle stan #grunkle ford #sea grunks #gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #tw blood

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anakinstwinklebunny · 15 days ago

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SAM MONROE didn’t think the carnival would be this much work.

Sure, he figured Vinnie would lose his little mind over the bright lights, loud music, and all the sugary snacks, but what he didn’t count on was himself having to climb up a gigantic inflating slide. Yet here he was, his Converse left forgotten by the edge of blow-up glide, socks sinking slightly into the squishy surface as he, time to time, helped Vinnie climb further, trying also to keep up with the toddler babbling nonsenses

“Alright, Little Dude,” Sam muttered, reaching the top with a soft grunt. “We made it. You ready to slide?”

Vinnie gave an enthusiastic squeal, little hands clapping together. Sam smirked, heart softening at the sight of his son’s pure excitement. But as soon as he moved the boy to his lap, a voice cut through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

“You can’t be up here!”

Sam turned his head and found himself staring at a little girl--probably six, maybe even seven--with her hands planted on her hips, ponytails and a pink sparkly dress that looked wildly out of place on the inflatable surface. She stared at Sam like he’d just broken every law in existence of the country.

“Uh, yeah, I can,” Sam shot back, tone deadpan as he adjusted Vinnie on his lap “I’m with him.”

She narrowed her eyes, pigtails bouncing as she stomped closer. “This is for kids! Not dads!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Cool. Thanks for the info.”

“I’m telling my daddy!”

“Go ahead,” voice dripping with sarcasm. “Make sure to tell him I paid twenty bucks for this.”

The girl didn’t back down, though. Instead, she got right in his face--or at least as much as a six-year-old could, which only made Vinnie pout in confusion--and poked Sam in the chest. “You’re too big, and you’re ruining it for everyone! My daddy said people like you--”

Before she could finish, Sam reached out and gently--but firmly--gave her a little shove. She tumbled backward, doing a flip, letting out a shriek as she slid down the inflatable slide at top speed, pink dress flaring out comically. Sam watched her go, expression completely unimpressed.

“Problem solved,” he muttered, turning his attention back to Vinnie.

The toddler blinked up at him, blissfully unaware of the drama that had just unfolded. Sam’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You didn’t see that, okay? Daddy didn’t just send some brat flying.”

Vinnie giggled, pointing toward the slide as if encouraging Sam to hurry up. With a sigh, Sam adjusted his grip on his son. “Alright, here we go, Little Dude. Hold on tight.”

So with that, Sam pushed off, the two of them sliding down the slope. Vinnie’s arms flied to his head, laughter and kid's shrieks echoed in his ears and Sam himself even grinned

At the bottom, he helped Vinnie to his feet, ruffling the boy’s curls. “We crushed it, huh?” he said with a smirk, earning a delighted giggle in response.

The little girl was nowhere in sight by the time they walked away, and Sam couldn’t have been more satisfied.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

#sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe fluff #life as a house #hayden christensen characters #christensen hayden #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x you #haydenchristensen #hayden christensen fluff

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see-arcane · 7 months ago

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With a total of 1,176 votes tallied, the preferred plushie poll winner with 28.8% of votes is…

What a close one! Jonathan came in with 27.7%, the mysterious Mr. Morse with 24.9% and, delicious irony of ironies, London Dracula with 18.9%. Rest in pieces. Now, what does all this mean going forward?

First, just to reconfirm: I will absolutely be looking into the costs for having more than one plushie character produced at a time. For all that Mina has the top spot if it comes down to a solo run, Nobody Wants to Separate the Gothic Horror Soulmates, even as wee little plushies. It hurts my heart to think of. Mina and Jonathan deserve to sit side by side on everyone’s pillow. Just as Quinn Morse deserves to haunt the pillow next to theirs while casually throttling and carving London Dracula into pieces. For enrichment.

But beyond that, some other key things:

How is this getting done?

Sadly, I was not a cool enough kid for Makeship to greenlight a collaboration with me. Tragique. But while I was sitting around waiting for them to get back to me, I had time to browse around for other options. During that sniffing around I dug up a couple of promising manufacturers—one of which has some really neat options for not only plush toys, but all sorts of bric-a-brac like stationery, shirts, bags, cups, et cetera—and I plan to reach out to them for quotes to start with. Nothing really gets to move forward until I can nail down prices and the amount of X plushies to be made.

I am more than a little hesitant to tell anyone MAKE ME 1000+ PLUSHIES, PLEASE, THE TUMBLR POLL SAID THEY’RE GOOD FOR IT. These aren’t as simple as print/make-on-demand products, so I need to be careful estimating the amount of folks ready and willing to drop money on the little guys. But I will keep everyone updated on the numbers regardless!

Sooo is this a crowdfunding thing or an investment or what?

Don’t know yet. I am still between jobs at the moment—reminder to check out my Ko-Fi if you want to drop me a buck or commission some art!—but if this is something I can safely drop some of my own money in with the guarantee that it will let me do better than break even, I’ll do what I can out of pocket. However, if the cost of making something of good quality turns out too steep, I’ll start looking into stuff like Kickstarter and Backerkit and so on. I want to be sure I’m not gutting anybody’s wallet to pull this off and I want to be double-sure that what we’re paying for isn’t some flimsy throwaway junk. We are all here on the same Dracula book club starving artist site, so It Has to Be Worth It and not a money-sink for anyone.

Got it. Any other info to spare?

For the plushies specifically, this is when I’ll start:

Polishing up the current four designs into cleaner illustrations with different angles to provide for mockup samples with whoever I pick to manufacture with. If I get stuck on something—(which is likely)—I may throw up another poll to bug everyone about palettes and fashion choices. I have a few more designs I haven’t dropped yet for Epilogue Harkers, a non-Bloofer Lucy, and keychains that I’d love to share too!

Eyeballing materials. I’m already picturing a very close-cut cloth for the build and clothes, but I need to decide on filling too. Stiff overstuffing to hold a pose versus softer/lighter plush for floppy cuddleability.

Poking at other character roughs, ala the Suitor Squad, the Weird Sisters, Van Helsing, Renfield, and Baby Quincey. And if all of those go well…

…maybe some designs for other favorites in the public domain playground. (Looks meaningfully at Clarimonde, Carmilla, Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, the King in Yellow, too many others.) ((But that’s all far-future stuff at the moment.))

Cool! But you also mentioned something about other merch?

I did.

Because goddamn do I want some Dracula-themed stationery. Journals! Memo pads! Pens! Every day we don’t have these things with the Harkers’ mark upon them is a victory for the forces of Count Dracula’s document-destroying evil. Likewise for shirts, totes, mugs, keychains, face masks and other things that could use some novel-flavored goodies. Hell, I’ll probably even get on with making stuff for The Vampyres to link on my website too. Because I am. Maybe behind on that. By several months.

Anyway.

I’ve got to start working on some designs for those too while the plushie process is progressing. Pray that my carpals don’t get tunneled.

Nice! Sounds like your plate is pretty full. So that’s it, right?

Arcane?

:3c

Arcane. I need you to tell me this is all you’re working on.

>:}

Arcane.

Please stand by.

I have a little treat brewing for the Dracula Dailiers and @re-dracula folks in honor of a very special day for our good friend Jonathan Harker.

#I am scheming #my art #my writing #dracula #jonathan harker #mina murray #mina harker #quinn morse #the vampyres #c.r. kane

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jazeswhbhaven · 1 month ago

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A Christmas beneath Heaven P2 | React | Days 1 & 2

Woooo we've made it to the second part of the event ya'll! And just as I expected, this is already crazy within the first two days of content Let's do a little recap though, just in case ya'll are seeing this first hand and not the other posts I've made!

MC is down with what they call a 'christmas cold' in Hell. Solomon had it before as well. The symptoms with MC is in short, they can't stop masturbating or getting horny and it's pretty much draining the life out of them. The Kings meet and decide that they must cure her and with the help of Bael finding an old devil with some information the medicine is located in the Middle Realm that is guarded by the first fallen angel, Achazriel. Because they all can't infiltrate all at once, each King must go one at a time, but it's looking like it's more cumbersome than they expected.

Now that you get the general idea without the extra stuff let's continue- S u M m A r Yyyyy~

The first King to make an attempt to infilitrate the Middle Realm is Belphegor. The problem though, is that everyone, including Belphie himself all turn to Beleth who's confused as fuck until he realizes, he's the one that must go in his King's stead.

When I say, that nobody had his back on this, not even Belphie I mean it. Beleth though says that it shouldn't take him long and he'd be okay.

I find it funny though that it was brought up that it's kinda messed up to send a fallen angel back to deal with other fallen angels and everyone's like ????!!! WAIT as if they didn't realize that.

But then we have Bael, sweet bby worried about Beleth and I have a small ramble about that. Not only are they neighboring countries, but the two of them are literally twins in the sense of they both babysit their King, and pretty much run things for their respective countries. So he has sympathy for him in that regard.

Beel doesn't really care though, saying that everyone should place bets for how long it will take Beleth before he comes back. Bimet is doing the math in his head, Asmodeus guessed it...they have this odd moment...

That odd moment being that Bimet was curious as to what made Asmodeus agree with him that 2 days would be the max and Asmo teases him into saying that he can't possibly believe he'd give away information without 'something' in return and Bimet is just kinda like 'oop. my bad... 😶' when Asmo's like...'these devils not giving me bussy is cruel' (not really but he's probably thinking that)

And well, everyone puts their bets in other than Leviathan and Lucifer because they find it pointless. Lucifer honestly just chooses to not engage due to "professionalism" (lmaooo) Belphie even randomly wakes up and is like "yah 3 days is my bet" and goes back to sleep, Bimet changes his bet too. Like good lord everyone believe in my bby pls.

Well...and just as Asmodeus (and Bimet but sadly he changed his number) guessed it...Beleth is back in two days and the poor babes is beat up badly. But at least Asmo agrees to share the winnings with Beleth (he has a thing for him I swear)

I'll spare you the theatrics of how they tried guessing what happened to him, but there was joke that he was fighting Harumon, which wasn't the issue. The issue is that Beleth was paranoid of the traps set, transformed into his cat self, and well...did a cat thing and got trapped anyway because his size triggered them all at the same time. (Let me add that Lucifer was able to tell what injuries Beleth had just by looking at him and what the cause was a "catfight" is what he called it)

The kings are all laughing at him (aside from Lucifer and Levi) like even Belphie is poking at him and I'm just like??? Leave him alone ????? So what he was a clumsy kitty, cats do dumb shit all the time here on Earth 💀🥺😭 I'd pet him and tell him he's a good kitty.

Levi however, is only upset because he came back with just the info of "there are traps" but nothing else. I think Beleth tried his best, he was just.....not on his A-game sadly.

So the next devil to go is Mammon. He just straight up grabs the dice, rolls it and his number comes up. And with no surprise, he gets through the traps so easily it's second nature to him and his giant hands. But the timeline for traveling through all the traps was half a day compared to Beleth getting beat up for two days. 😭

Now, he DOES make it all to the way the gate, Mammon interested in the door and it's materials, and then it opens on it's own so now he's like OOOO NEW TECH MINE. (one track mind...)

So he walks in, and it looks really pretty btw...I'd probably sleep there and he sees the first fallen (hot asf) angel Achazriel. So it appears that this fallen angel is for the most part docile and just kinda sits on the chair he's in. Though, he does know who Mammon is, though very little is known about him.

He doesn't even want to fight, he challenges Mammon by asking him one question, if he answers it within 10 seconds he won't have to leave. In the Middle Realm, his word is law, so if he loses Mammon will be forced out by that rule.

Guess what the question was? "Who is most precious to you." I was like OH this is easy, MC! Well....our uh big stud here went through all of ten seconds thinking of other things and people even the souls in his body before he realized it was MC that was the answer but it was too late 😒🙃😭😭 Like??? Okay Mammon thanks love you too. Because the point of the entire trip was to heal MC and I'm like??? W T F. Satan could have answered that question easily I bet (he seems to be the OTP Kings wise)

So...Mammon failed, but at least he had more information. He didn't tell them the question that was asked, which I assumed no one asked him directly so he had no reason to reveal. (I bet you Satan would have laughed at him for getting it wrong and be like HA the answer is MC you idiot. or something like that)

Beel is up next! And well...since Mammon did all the footwork, he basically just had to walk up there, meet Achzariel and was straight up like "Give me the medicine." Beel....pls.....

PHEW so this summary was longer than the others because yeah so far Part Two's stories are far longer than Part One's! When I do the screenshots hopefully everything fits in this post. Some may have to be exlcuded ;w;

Let's get to the screencapssssss

idk i found this cute because no Satan you can't do that. Time out chair again.

I feel like this is Luci's polite way of saying..."I ain't got the time nor patience for this foolishness"

Beel. LMAO really now? (this was toward Beleth going first and Belphie was like "I ain't" and went to sleep.) Bael was like.....o k.

He's so worried, let me give him kisses for being a sweetie.

NABE DOG FORM CAMEO (gives him treats and scritches)

AYo??????? We just gon' fap in front of everyone present? ASMO ??

Leviathan was ready to beat his ass like

Like srsly he was done at this point lmaooooo

😭MY BABY OMG

I'm sorry Levi has been irritated this entire event and I'm crying because it's either Beel or Asmodeus annoying the fuck out of him. 💀

They were so mean 😭 like I know they were just joking but this man came back battered and torn being called a rag by Asmo and now they're calling him a clumsy cat. It's okay Beleth com'mere and and I'll give you hugs and smooches. (He seems to not be too graceful as a big kitty and that's okay)

Tryna capitalize on strange self opening doors, okay Mammon

Bye, taking a nap here.

I know you fine as fuck, wait who said that? I'm supposed to be napping

what do you mean, what????

ok.

Pretty much. LOL

And just because there's room to throw this in....

He really said, "you goin' fam." and went back to sleep.

Classic Leviathan roasting.

LIKE ya'll there's so much interactions between the Kings and their nobles in this event, it's really nice to see them acting in their natural state without MC around even if they are simply just in a quarantine room jackin' off to the thoughts of Minhyeok.

Since Beel boldly just went up in Middle Realm and asked for the medicine directly I wonder how that's gonna work out for him...I can't imagine too well since he's...ya know himself lmao

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb kings #whb nobles #whb event #whb screenshots #jazewhbreacts🖤#asmo just whipping it out under the table to jack off to levi's angry face is on brand for him and wild #the crazier asmo is the more i find myself wanting to experience that #this is a trap #lmaooo sorry about these tags ya'll

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ofstarsandvibranium · 2 months ago

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In Stitches

Fandom: Marvel (Mob Boss AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky used to be so in love and so… ignorant of the roles you had to play, which lead to you breaking up. But that didn’t seem to keep you away from each other since you now act as Bucky’s nurse whenever he gets hurt. Based off my mini fic here.

Warnings: depictions of violence

Stitched Together | Pull the Thread | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

He'd won. He came out broken, bloody, and bruised, but he won. At just eighteen years old, technically a man, but still a boy at heart, James Buchanan Barnes was thrown into a cage fight to prove to his father that he can be strong enough to take over the family business.

He came out of that fight looking at his father and a shine of love and pride reflected back at him.

This was Bucky's new reality. Life filled with pain, bloodshed, and darkness. He couldn't bring you into it, especially when his dad said Bucky could use you to get info on what your dad and the department knows about the business. No. He can't use you like that.

He couldn't bring himself to break up with you either so he played the part that everyone expected of him. He became cold and callous, which lead to you breaking up with him. He told himself it was for the best and it was to protect you from his new reality. He loved you and always will, even when he grew up to be someone most thought incapable of love.

___________________________

Bucky: can we swing by? two of our guys got shot.

You read over Bucky's text and you sigh. You pause your favorite rom-com movie and kick off the blanket you had draped over you.

As you head to your bathroom for your med kit, you text back:

You: yup. come on by.

Bucky: ETA is 15min

You: [thumbs up]

It'd been four months now of being a nurse for Bucky and his people. You've come to notice the ones who get hurt often, their bodies littered with various scars and stitches all over their bodies. Bucky, more often than not, came with them. It always surprised you because you figured he'd have other stuff to take care of, but, as he's mentioned to you once:

"These people are under my care. I wanna make sure they're taken care of."

Which made your heart swell a little bit and throw you back to how Bucky always felt protective of those he cared about.

You push your furniture towards the edges of the room and set up the cots for your incoming patients. You were tired of cleaning out the bloodstains on your couch cushions.

A knock at your door, you scurry to pull it open. Four guys trudge in. Two, dragging the other two inside.

Bucky comes in last with a shy smile, "Evening."

"Hey," you say with a nod, letting him in and then closing the door behind him.

"You doing okay?"

You nod, "Yeah. Wasn't doing much when you texted me. Just watching a movie."

"Rom com?" he asks you with a teasing smirk.

You roll your eyes at him in response, "Shut up."

"I wasn't saying anything!"

"You're judging me, Barnes! I know how you look when you're judging, so don't even deny it!" you poke his chest and turn on your heel to go attend to your patients.

___________________

Your patients had left your home, not wanting to take advantage of your generosity further despite your protests. That left you alone with Bucky. He was nursing a glass of whiskey and you a glass of wine while another movie played on the tv. He didn't leave with the rest of his guys. His excuse being that he wanted to finish the movie that you played while you worked on his men. A part of you hoped it was because he wanted to spend some alone time with you. Then you mentally scold yourself for hoping for such a thing.

You clear your throat when the movie ends, "So, you like rom-coms now, hm?"

He chuckles, placing his glass on your coffee table, "Just because I watched one rom-com, doesn't mean I like rom-coms."

You scoff, "I'll convert you, Barnes, just wait." You stand and grab his glass, "You want more?"

"Nah. I, uh, I should go."

You nod, "Right," you turn and head to the kitchen, placing the glasses into the sink.

Bucky follows, placing a small stack of bills onto the counter, "Your pay."

"Thanks," you mumble, not turning around to face him.

There's some sort of tension in the air and Bucky doesn't know why. He wants to poke and see what happened, if he'd done something somehow. But he doesn't. Despite you two being in each other's lives again, albeit in a small capacity, he still feels insecure and unsure about where you two stand now. Because he is still head of a crime organization and you're still the daughter of the chief of police that's trying to bring him down. Your lives keep being woven together, but will it result in the same heartbreaking end?

Bucky hopes not. He's older now. His father is gone and he's more in control of his life now. Right?

"Get some rest, sweetheart," he murmurs before exiting your home.

_______________________________

You're called up to the reception desk during your shift. When you head to the first floor, you see your dad waiting for you.

"Everything okay?" you immediately ask with concern.

"Everything's good, Bug. Figured you'd wanna have lunch with me?" he holds up a paper bag, 'Stan's Diner' logo stamped on it.

You break out into a smile, "Let me just let my charge nurse know I'm going on lunch. I'll meet you in the cafeteria."

"Sounds good," your dad gives you a thumbs up and heads in the direction of the cafeteria.

You head back upstairs, letting the charge nurse, Sharon, of you going on lunch. You punch in your ID number to start your lunch and then go back to your dad.

When you reach the cafeteria, you snort. Your dad is already eating without you. You sit across from him, unwrapping the burger he set out for you, "Couldn't wait?"

He shrugs, "I was starving!" He takes another bite of his burger and then takes out the two cups of fries. He flattens the paper bag and pours all of the fries out. The setting is reminiscent of your childhood. Every Friday, after your dad picked you up from school, you two would go to Stan's Diner. You'd always order the same thing, and your dad always combined the fries in the middle for you both to share.

"Been a while since we had lunch together. You sure things are okay?" you ask him with a hint of skepticism.

After your dad washes his food down with a can of Diet Coke (he's trying to cut back on the sugar), he clears his throat, "Well, uh, I did want to mention something to you."

You fidget in your seat, hoping and praying that he didn't find out that you've been helping nurse Bucky and his people for the past few months.

"So some of my patrol guys mentioned they started seeing more of Barnes' guys around your neighborhood."

You look at him with fake surprise, "What? Really? I haven't seen anything or anyone suspicious, but then again, I'm hardly home and when I am, I'm usually asleep."

"So far, they haven't done anything to be concerned about. Just that they've been showing up around your side of town lately. I just wanted to see if you've seen or heard anything, but most importantly to be cautious and careful."

You gulp, "Do-Do you think Bucky would hurt me?"

He sighs, "Bug, I'm honestly not sure what to believe, but that man isn't the same kid you were friends with back then. He's different now, capable of dangerous things. I just want to you to be careful."

"I will be, dad. I still carry my knife and pepper spray you got me."

"Good. I was also thinking of sending more guys to watch your specific area."

You shake your head, " I'm sure there are other places that need your attention."

"Maybe, but maybe I'll just station one guy on your street to keep an eye on things."

"I'll be fine. Trust me-"

"I trust you just fine, Bug. It's Barnes, I don't trust."

He wipes his hands and mouth with his napkin, "I'm gonna use the bathroom real quick." You give him a nod and watch as he heads to the cafeteria's bathrooms.

Once he's out of sight, you immediately pull out your phone and bring up the text chain between you and Bucky.

You: you guys need to be more careful. dad just told me his patrol guys have been seeing your people around my neighborhood more. he's thinking about having a guy stationed on my street.

Bucky: fuck.

Bucky: thanks for telling me.

You: you're welcome. maybe tell everyone to do their best to not get shot or stabbed for the next few weeks.

Bucky: can't really guarantee that considering our line of work.

You: at least try!

Bucky: will do, sweetheart.

You: stay safe.

Bucky: same to you, sweetheart.

You slip your phone back into your pocket when your dad exits the bathroom. You continue to eat your lunch and chat with him, acting as if you just didn't tip off his biggest enemy.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #marvel au #mob boss au #mob au #mafia au

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