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hcneymooners · 1 month ago

Text

౨ৎ stargirl interlude: chapter v.

wnba!paige x pop star!azzi. men & minors dni.

⋆ 🪩 masterlist.

cw: fluff, suggestive content, paige vs her self control, love declarations.

notes: hello, hello. had to update before i got jumped. wanted to post before i was consumed by the met gala. the song lyrics used belong to "scar for love" by niki & the dove. i hope you enjoy yourselves. love you. can't wait to see what you think.

V: COHERENCE.

“wait, we have three golden retrievers? baby, how big is our house?”

azzi smiled radiantly from the smooth face of paige’s phone screen. she shrugged, her hair sliding down her neck and across her shoulder. it was practically buoyant, highly teased for the upcoming single that azzi planned to release. she kept everyone, including paige, in the dark, telling her that it would matter more if she didn’t know a single thing about it.

paige wondered if that was the ethos of her brand as a star.

“i don’t know,” azzi teased. “how many acres could that wnba money get us?”

paige laughed, her face twisting into mock-outrage. “damn, ma. and here i thought you really loved me.”

azzi’s face softened, and she rolled onto her stomach, settling deeper into the body of her bed. the motion made her chest push up slightly, her tits high and glossy with glitter-infused body oil. paige’s eyes glazed over slightly at the sight.

“i do love you, baby. besides, i think i got more money in the bank anyway.”

paige tore her eyes away from azzi’s chest, and met her mischievous gaze blushing fervently when her girlfriend cocked an eyebrow as if to let her know she’d caught her.

“i know, mama. ‘m just playing.”

azzi pursed her lips and then pulled herself backward into an arch, the small of her back flashing a momentary, perfect peek of brown skin before she sat back with her thighs spread. paige muttered a prayer under her breath, pressing her eyes closed with a slow blink. azzi tilted her head, her cheeks flushing a little bit at the small groan that severed itself from paige’s chest.

“you know what i saw the other day?”

“a vision of me flying you out?” paige asked, eyes still closed. azzi laughed, and she opened them in satisfaction.

“no,” azzi answered, drawing the ‘o’ in the word out. “i saw on tiktok that they keep calling me mrs. bueckers. isn’t that so cute?”

paige wanted to die. no, it wasn’t fucking cute.

“yeah?” she murmured. “they calling you by my last name?”

something in her tone was predatory enough to hook azzi, making the other girl look at her with wide eyes. paige’s blue gaze was low-lidded and dark, her bottom lip almost bloodless underneath the press of her teeth. azzi felt her throat squeeze, and her thighs followed.

“um, yeah,” she said with a slight nod of her head.

paige let her lip fall free, her teeth chewing on the inside of her cheek instead. she studied azzi, azzi only barely changed from being on set today. azzi with her baby pink tube top and thrifted lululemon v-waisted yoga pants (she’d made that clear.) she thought of the text she’d gotten last week when azzi said she was thinking of getting lip fillers, which paige responded to in the following manner:

sending a selfie of her side-eyeing azzi heavily in response.

a second text in which she said: » 1 ml at most, otherwise i ain’t allowing it

a third and fourth text to follow up, in which she said: » just thought of how good its gonna feel to kiss you fuck

then: » i mean it's good already but imma bout to be insatiable lol

azzi had responded with a kissy emoji and then promptly shattered paige’s player dreams by saying:

» i’m afraid of needles :(

paige had laughed at that. but now, paige wasn’t playing. she’d been on one for several days, made worse by the memory of what it was like to have azzi live with her in dallas. and now, azzi was telling her about how the world saw azzi as paige’s wife.

“p?” azzi asked hesitantly, and paige refocused on her.

“i’m with you, baby. went somewhere for a minute.”

“where did you go?” and the way she asked was so sweet, so eager to follow paige across every mode of time and space. she’d probably even take the pain of it, punish herself, though paige found her highly unpunishable.

“just thinking about you, mama,” paige told her, voice throaty and low.

azzi smiled, pleased. outside, new york sang its song of life. cars droned on in the late-night traffic, and azzi’s eyes looked out of her window for a moment. paige studied the soft shape of her face and tried to remember what azzi smelled like when she came out of her shower for the first time in texas.

“you’re so sweet f’me, princess,” paige said, and azzi slid back onto her side, shifting her phone so that it all traveled with her.

“what do you mean?” azzi asked, huffing out a laugh. “i’m not even with you right now.”

“you’re always with me, azzi,” paige said, her tone firming into something serious. “i never let you go, physically here or not.”

it was true. azzi’s name was written on paige’s wrist tape before every game. she’d even tailored her brand-deal-gifted aromatherapy set to smell exactly how it did whenever azzi tucked her into her arms. paige ached for her at every moment. her biggest indulgence was being azzi’s favorite baby.

she thought of when azzi was last here, how paige had draped herself across azzi’s lap like she belonged there, face pressed to the soft plane of her stomach. her hand had traced idle shapes along azzi’s side, fingertips dragging light over warm skin, brushing just under the hem of her tank top. fresh from the shower, azzi’s curls had spilled damp and wild down her back, and she’d smelled saccharine—like something honeyed. familiar. paige had nosed at her ribcage lazily, kissed the skin there without really thinking about it.

her brain buzzed now with the ghost of azzi’s hum, with the phantom movement of the one hand carding through paige’s hair, slow and soothing. they’d stayed like that for hours, half-watching a movie neither of them would be able to recall.

azzi was paige’s permanent aftershock, a nuclear vibration that mutated her into something different. someone she liked a lot more than the version of herself, to whom azzi remained unknowable. she wanted azzi under her, inside of her, on top of her.

“everything makes sense when i’m looking at you,” she continued, blue eyes unyielding as she gazed into the screen.

she watched azzi shiver, a flash of perfect teeth biting into her lip.

it made something lurch in paige, some organic thing inside her chest pulling tight. she shifted, suddenly full of everything she couldn’t say quickly enough.

“i like bueckers-fudd better,” she said abruptly, and azzi blinked. “like the sound of it. looks real good on paper, too. or on the inside of a ring. on a deed.”

azzi’s smile flickered wider, not fully following.

“i want your name next to mine,” paige continued, voice picking up steam. “not just romantically, i mean. like legacy shit. your art, your writing, your music. i want us to build a whole empire off our last names touching. i mean, i’m already planning to buy your masters over time. i’m tryna make sure you own every piece of you. you know? you worked hard for it.”

azzi didn’t speak.

“baby?”

her screen was quiet, the faint city hum behind azzi like a mechanical tide. paige leaned forward. “ma?”

azzi shook her head slightly, her lips parted. her cheeks shone.

“oh. shit, wait, are you—baby. what’s wrong?”

“i love you so much,” azzi said, so quietly that paige almost missed it, “and i don’t even know what to do with any of it.”

paige went still, breath caught in her throat, heart wrung out like a rag. she didn't know how to say me too in a way that could entail the way that the love she carried was the only thing holding her down. so she just said:

“can you come home? to me? like, now. please.”

azzi sniffled and shook her head. “i’m sorry, p. i have rehearsals tomorrow and the final filming day for my new music video.”

paige groaned, her head falling back to reveal the white belly of her throat.

“if you can’t come to me,” she said, voice gone light and teasing, “can you pull your top down a little instead?”

“paige madison,” azzi gasped, scandalized, but already smiling, cheeks warm and eyes brimming with new joy.

paige laughed, the sound crooked and golden.

and azzi just looked at her. she often felt that paige wasn’t real, that she couldn’t be real, that it was impossible to hold all of this adoration without being prostituted by it, and yet there she was, laughing, like the sun had no other job but to kiss her teeth when she smiled.

paige blinked, and for a moment, it felt like she left her own body. like she was floating, carried by azzi’s gaze alone. she dreaded when they would have to hang up.

she always hated the come down.

⟡

pbueckersofficial: my girl is such a fucking crybaby, and she looks so pretty with it too. it be making me wanna fuck her up till her legs shake. 7:03 pm • likes: 1.2m | retweets: 243k | replies: 301k ⤷ username: did we forget the password to the priv AGAIN or...😭😭😭 ⤷ username: be fr we are ONE more tweet away from another WNBA-wide media training day. ⤷ username: paige bueckers saying “fuck her up” with no warning is why the government wants to ban twitter ⤷ username: just 0 decorum on my wifi. ⤷. karnold: girl, boo. she ain’t live with you ⤷ username: she's so real for this bc i too would want to make azzi fudd see white repeatedly ⤷ pbueckersofficial: trust, you won’t be seeing the morning. #stayblessed 😇 ⤷ username: IS THIS A THREAT OR???

pbueckersofficial: hoes mad bc they didn’t lock in like me 🤷🏼‍♀️💍 8:10 pm • likes: 1.1m | retweets: 500k | replies: 432k ⤷ username: HOES MAD BC YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA ACCESS IS GONNA BE TAKEN AWAY 😭😭😭 ⤷ username: this that libra bullshit. fall in love and immediately start tweeting like future ⤷ username: don’t invoke that demon’s name in this loving home ⤷ username: isn’t that hoe a scorpio?

pbueckersofficial: y’all be tweeting “you my peace” to someone who gave you a UTI. i’m not the same. 8:15 pm • likes: 944k | retweets: 132k | replies: 346k ⤷ dallaswingspr: your account could be at risk for temporary suspension for violating community guidelines. ⤷ pbueckersofficial: my b ⤷ azzi35: paige 😭😭😭😭😭😭 ⤷ pbueckersofficial: baby imy, call me back 💔💔

⟡

count on azzi to drop her most public declaration of love while sleeping right next to paige.

the day broke, pink and orange like a heart on fire, and paige blinked awake far earlier than she usually did. something hummed inside of her bones, her marrow thick and something sweet tugging at her mouth. she stayed still, lying on her back like a felled animal, with azzi’s head pillowed on her chest. she hadn’t yet put her finger on the pulse of what had dragged back into the land of the living.

beneath her, azzi murmured something incoherent. they hadn't even lasted a week before paige flew her out again.

the bonnet they’d grabbed at a beauty supply store had slipped off, but her scarf held strong against her bush of curls. her face was marked by pillow lines despite her gravitating away from them onto paige’s body. paige absentmindedly stroked a finger along her cheek, her nail catching along the delicate bones of her nose and cheeks. azzi pressed into it, as if she was trying to find her even in her deepest dreams, and the thought of that made paige run warm.

after a few more moments, paige carefully slid the other girl to the side and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. her feet touched plush carpet, and she grabbed the thin body of her phone, making sure to tuck the covers around azzi before padding into the bathroom. she turned it on, letting it vibrate on the countertop as notifications flooded in, and reached for her toothbrush. it was only after a steady five minutes of vibrations that she figured something might be wrong.

tucking a strand of soft blonde hair behind an ear, paige tapped the sleek face of the device, the screen blurring for a moment before it stabilized. she was already distracted, fingers restless against the sleek glass, as notifications flooded in. but one, sitting there with a quiet power above the rest, caught her attention.

youtube: new upload from azzi fudd.

her heart stopped for just a beat, a strange knot tightening in her chest. paige didn’t even think to hesitate. she clicked.

it was the silence at first that caught her. she didn’t recognize the setting when the video loaded, the screen dimmed at first, only to be pierced by the sharp gleam of neon pink sharp enough to make her flinch. azzi’s face filled the frame, framed against that pop of color like a strange, beautiful ghost. her curls were soft, pinned upward, and despite their careful arrangement, they still seemed to carry a slight wildness to them, as if this updo was nothing more than an act.

every movement was cold and precise, her hands pulling the air into sharp, geometric arcs. it was stunning in its simplicity. azzi was everywhere, but nowhere all at once, moving like she knew every inch of herself. like she had to.

paige’s chest tightened as she watched azzi, this girl who liked to seem so small when they were together, this woman who was now reminding the world that she was a fucking popstar. the popstar.

she watched azzi’s body twist and propel itself across the stage, dipping and bending while azzi kept intense eye contact with the camera as it dared to follow her. paige licked her lower lip as she followed the soft sweep of the body suit, its thin cover as it dipped between azzi’s thighs.

there was an aching vulnerability in azzi’s movements, the way her body tensed and then unraveled, like a machine coming apart under its own weight. paige could see it in the way azzi moved. her eyes slipped closed for a moment, head tilted back just enough to expose the delicate line of her throat, vulnerable, but also so very controlled. she balked, stumbling forward on the balls of her feet like she was on the edge of a large cliff. her body strained over and over, always so close to breaking, but instead, managing to weave itself into a new shape.

azzi sang to herself. it was clear that she was alone in this, spinning like a solo planet even as she bled her heart out for the world to see.

it's either with or against you and nothing left to say / 'cause all you ever got was hurt.

there was a madness to it, a quiet destruction that paige couldn’t shake. she had never seen azzi like this, and maybe that’s what unnerved her most: how easily the world consumed her. how easy it was for azzi to give it all up, even when every part of her seemed to be begging to hold it together.

we mark each other’s hearts / with a scar for love.

it wasn’t just the vulnerability that caught paige off guard; it was how effortlessly azzi embodied it. how easily she could twist herself into something so raw and exposed, and make it seem like the most natural thing in the world. and maybe it was.

azzi had once told her that she despised her inability to be indifferent to anything: the critics, the fans, her mother, her management. azzi was a masterclass in caring above the norm. everything kicked her while she was still down, and sometimes she rolled over to let the world get a clean hit in.

as if to drive the point home, azzi fell off-screen. she hit the floorboards with a tough thud before the camera spun to display her face twisted in electric pain as she crawled across the space. her voice never faltered, its pilgrimage from her throat to the outside world uninterrupted.

paige watched as azzi swung herself up into a crouch just before she hit a wall, stumbling dramatically back before gliding into a gorgeous moonwalk-esque promenade. she faced the camera, jaw strong and proud as she pointed mockingly with a bejeweled acrylic tip and then turned it back to herself, mimicking the action of slitting her throat.

draw a line, sister / draw it deep / do not stop until we bleed.

but there was more. a shift. the camera pulled back, the screen flickering, and for a moment, something different filled the space.

a video. a video of someone blonde. it took a few moments for paige to recognize that it was herself, but from behind. this was clearly a moment that azzi had captured when they were together because paige was laughing, unguarded and helpless in her adoration. it was clear that both women were slaves to love.

as it continued, paige glanced back in slow motion, her eyes crinkling with the softest smile, the kind of smile that made a heart stop in its tracks. paige watched herself stand there as the camera zoomed out, her face falling slightly with the smallest of smiles, the kind that only azzi could pull out of her.

and then, in a fluid motion, azzi stepped closer to the projected image of paige, the video shimmering against the dark backdrop. there was something tenderly desperate in the way azzi approached the screen, like she was walking into a game she knew she’d most likely lose. she sped up, tripping into an unbalanced run. just as she grew close enough to touch, she tilted forward and slammed into the wall with both hands, palming the projection of paige.

she slid down the wall, her body sinking to the floor with a tragic grace that made paige let out a small, wretched gasp. azzi turned and slowly began to curl into herself, leaving just enough time for her audience to see the blood snaking languidly down her cupid’s bow. it fell into her mouth with a sick drip, and continued as she ended it all with a head buried in her knees, as if she couldn’t bear to look at the memory she had just tried so futilely to keep for herself.

the screen went dark. and then there it was: nothing but the numbers 10.20 flickering softly on the black screen in baby pink, italicized serif. the numbers lingered like a kiss print.

the date. it took paige a moment to process.

10.20.

she blinked, disoriented, the weight of it sinking in.

the new album. azzi was releasing it on her birthday. the significance of it hit her all at once, staggering like an unexpected blow. she had watched azzi bare her soul, shed her skin, and now she understood why. this wasn’t just a love song. this wasn’t just azzi doing what she did best.

paige thought of the blood dripping down azzi’s full-glam face, the way she hadn’t wiped it but had hidden it so that the hot, crimson line could continue staining her. she thought of what azzi had texted her just a few weeks ago:

» i can’t be normal about you » i want to hollow myself out, so i can keep you inside of me forever » i don’t care if it sounds crazy, but i don’t want to be anything other than yours. every time i’m alone, every time i’m without you i feel like i’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. » it's like i'm supposed to be going home, but i missed my turn.

paige stared at the screen, the room feeling suddenly too small around her. her chest felt tight, too tight, and her fingers trembled as she wiped away the sudden tears that slipped down her cheeks.

fuck, she loved that girl.

just in the other room, azzi was sleeping deeply. the sunrise stretched like a fresh wound on the wall.

⟡

azzi35: for p. ❤️‍🔥 new album out 10.20 4:44 am • likes: 4.7m | retweets: 1.3m | replies: 828k

popcrushdaily: azzi fudd just released the most daring visual of her career. vulnerable, unrelenting, and devastatingly beautiful. this is a popstar who isn’t afraid to show her scars, both literal and metaphorical. “scar for love” feels like it’s pulling at the heartstrings of every single person who’s ever loved and lost. 10.20 can’t come fast enough. #azzifudd #scarforlove • likes: 6.8m | retweets: 2.2m | replies: 1.4m ⤷ username: oh so grammy secured iktr!

arvind__music (music critic): the perfect example of how a popstar can make you feel uncomfortable, moved, and seen all at once. azzi fudd is making history with this drop. her vulnerability is unmatched, her vision untouchable. we are witnessing the birth of something transcendent. #scarforlove • likes: 33k | retweets: 15k | replies: 8.6k

carmenintheclouds (celebrity choreographer): azzi fudd never fails to have a visual hand that is so on point. from the neon pink to the choreography, everything is tight. and that final scene? don't even get me started on the symbolism. scar for love is art, people. #azzifudd #scarforlove • likes: 12k | retweets: 4.6k | replies: 2.2k

pbueckersofficial (quote replying to azzi35): fuckkkkkkk i love her. 6:20 am • likes: 3.2m | retweets: 326k | replies: 999k ⤷ pbueckersofficial: she put my whole heart in 3 minutes and 47 seconds. what do i even do with myself now? ⤷ pbueckersofficial: i’m supposed to go to practice after hearing that? be fr ⤷ pbueckersofficial: i need to propose. like now. i need to propose TODAY. FAWK ⤷ pbueckersofficial: mind you she’s stil sleeping imma bout to [redacted] ⤷ pbueckersofficial: if this was the bachelor i would’ve given her the final rose S2E1, timestamp 0:30. ⤷ karnold: so you really said fuck that priv huh

wnbagossip: lmao paige bueckers never fails to be the realest out there ⤷ username: when she said “fuck i love her”... we all felt that. ⤷ pbueckersofficial: ain’t nobody got her like i got her, trust

bueckersfuddsourcebrasil: bueckers-fudd nation, how are we feeling now that miss “i’m private” just went PUBLIC?? • likes: 6.5k | retweets: 536 | replies: 1.3k ⤷ username: azzi said here damn! ⤷ username: first strap pregnancy is coming in october ‎‎⤷ ‎ pbueckersofficial: #realshit ⤷ azzi35: paige, please put the phone down and come out of the bathroom, i wanna give u a kiss ⤷ pbueckersofficial light ain’t got nothing on how fast im about to move

#mine ; 🐎.#pazzi popstar au.#pazzi fics #pazzi #paige x azzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #dallas wings

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reidbae · 2 years ago

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Ecstasy

summary: You’re always nervous around your professor, which he has taken note to, but had chosen not to speak on. It’s not until you come to his classroom late to turn in a missing assignment that he decides to ask you about it, and he’ll do anything for the answer.

warnings/mentions: dom!spencer x sub!reader, teacher x student relationship, tall x short, reader is 22+ and spencer is 32+, age gap, AFAB reader, use of Y/N in slowburn but pet names used during smut (sweetheart, baby, doll, honey, etc), degradation, praise, choking, fingering, rough sex, hair pulling, vaginal sex, office sex technically lol, literally just filth dude

wc: 4.4k

a/n: hey, i’m kit! i write a lot in my free time and i think it’s high time i made a tumblr. this is my first post and the first smut i’ve written in a while. this is partially slowburn but it’s MOSTLY smut. anyway, hope you enjoy and also know that i take requests!

You knocked on the classroom door before entering it, shutting it quietly behind you. “Professor Reid?” you called out, unsure if the intelligent doctor was even here so late.

He looked up from his desk, his nose previously buried in paperwork. He was no doubt grading assignments, and you felt a twinge of guilt for interrupting him.

You nervously cleared your throat, beginning to approach his desk. “I’m sorry for interrupting you. I- I know it’s late. I just have that missing essay you wanted me to make up?” you explained, holding out the essay that you had finished shortly before you got here.

You noticed Spencer’s eyes darting to your clothing, lingering there for a few moments as he seemed to be taking in the view of you. You’d pulled on the first thing you’d found in your closet, a skimpy red dress that was tugging forcefully against your body. Ultimately, however, Spencer didn’t say anything and cleared his throat, then accepted your paper from you.

He looked it over for a second, then spoke up. “This is a lot of work, Y/N. It only needed to be two pages,” he pointed out to you.

You began to sweat at that comment, gazing at him with an apprehensive expression. “I- I know, sir. I just wanted to make up for the fact that I’m turning it in late. I hope you won’t take points off,” you explained. He may have made your palms sweat, but you did still care heavily about your grades.

“I’m not going to,” he said with a soft smile, placing your essay down on his desk. “Your essay seems to be well written, as usual, from what I’ve read so far.”

You could feel your face heat up at his praise and you gently nodded. “Thank you. And thank you again for giving me an extension.”

He nodded, too. “You’re welcome. But I hope you’re aware that I won’t always be so understanding, Y/N. I was glad to give you an extension this time, but I won’t shy away from taking points off if this happens again. I want you to learn to be more punctual,” he sternly continued.

It was conversations like these that made you heavily aware that no matter what you felt, Spencer was still your professor, and he wasn’t afraid to remind you of that. Shyly, you nodded your head, becoming more nervous as the seconds went on. “I- I understand, Professor Reid. I promise that it won’t happen again,” you could barely stammer out, coherent sentences beginning to fail you.

He smiled up at you and gave you another respectful nod. “Good. Make sure you live up to that,” he said firmly.

Did he have to be so overly stern? “I will,” you simply returned. You weren’t really sure what to say at this point now that the reason you’d come here had been addressed. You took a shaky breath, then nodded in finality. “Well, um, I guess I’d better get going now. Again, sorry to disturb you so late, Professor. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you timidly told Spencer, turning on your feet and starting to walk towards the door.

Spencer’s husky voice stopped you dead in your tracks. “Can I ask you something, Y/N?” he asked you. Nervously, you turned back around, looking at him.

“What is it, sir?” you politely responded, giving him your best innocent smile.

“Why are you always so nervous around me?”

Your eyes widened as your cheeks flushed red, caught off guard by his sudden question. You knew that, at some point, he would confront you about your continued nervousness around him that had started the second he became your professor three months ago. You were awful at hiding it: You blush and sweat, you stutter and stammer, and you toy with your hands and hair when he talks to you. You couldn’t be blamed for your attractiveness to the handsome doctor, but, really, you wish you were better at burying it.

“N- nervous?” you responded, in a feeble attempt to sound clueless. “I- I’m not- What makes you say that, Professor?” you asked, knowing exactly why he was asking.

“You seem much more nervous and tense when you talk to me as opposed to when you talk to others. It’s something I’ve noticed since the beginning of the semester,” he explained to you, folding his hands atop his desk.

“Uh, well, you know,” you nervously laughed, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. “I’m just shy.” Yeah, right.

“You’re loud and exuberant around your other professors, along with your classmates. I’ve heard you laugh and joke with quite a few people. It seems like this nervous demeanor is only saved for me,” he pointed out, sounding completely convinced that he was correct in his observations. He paused for a brief moment before continuing on. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

Your expression turned shocked at the fact that he could possibly think that anything he did would make anyone uncomfortable. “No, no, I swear, it’s not like that,” you mumbled shyly, shaking your head.

“Forgive me for thinking so, Y/N, but my words do hold some truth to them. You are aware of this behavior that you’ve constantly displayed towards me over the last few months, though, correct?” he asked. His words came out so fluently, as though he had been meaning to come to you about this for longer than you’d anticipated. In regards to how you were speaking at the moment, you wish you could say the same.

“S- Somewhat,” you admitted.

He looked more intrigued now that you had confirmed the fact that you were nervous around him. He leaned back in his chair now, hands in his lap as he stared up at you. “Then, tell me what it is that’s making you nervous. I’d like to clear up whatever it is.”

You immediately shook your head, eyes still averted from the brunette professor. “I- It’s nothing.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if you’re constantly stuttering when you talk to me, or fidgeting with your hands when I walk by your desk,” he said, his stern tone growing increasingly prominent with each word he said. “I want to know what’s going on, Y/N.”

“Nothing’s going on,” you instantly defended. You were not in the mood to blow your cover about this. Not today, and maybe not ever.

“Oh, really?” he asked you in return, cocking an eyebrow. “You just told me you know that your behavior has been odd over the last few months,” he sighed. He grabbed a pen on his desk, clicking it a few times before continuing. “You and I both know there’s something wrong. This issue will never be resolved if you don’t discuss it with me. I promise that it will be to your benefit.”

You couldn’t help but remain silent. If you spoke, you’d stutter, only further proving Spencer’s point. You didn’t shake your head or give any sign at all that you’d heard him.

At this, he sighed again, shaking his head from what you could see out of the corner of your eye. “Am I going to have to figure it out for myself?” he asked you in a genuine tone. His voice, you noticed, was notably lower than it was before.

You only rolled your eyes in response to that. The fact that he had asked why you were nervous was one thing, but the idea of him attempting to figure it out was much more daunting, and you weren’t looking forward to it.

“Don’t give me that, Y/N,” he demanded when you rolled your eyes, tone fierce. “If you can’t verbally tell me what’s going on, your body language will.“

“My body language has nothing to tell,” you tried to correct him, trembling hands finding your hair and messing with it anxiously, eyes still torn from Spencer’s.

“You seriously believe that?” he almost scoffed, shaking his head. “I teach you how to read this stuff. Your body language has nothing to tell? You mean your shaky hands, stuttering, and red face have nothing to tell? Or, what about the fact that your hands are tangled in your hair? Or, that you can’t even look at me?” he went on, and he didn’t stop there.

“Do you want me to list every possibility I can think of until you tell me why you’re so nervous?” he asked. There was no tone of joke in his words: You knew that he would do it, and he’d do it with pride, at that.

“No,” you told him, the first word you’d said since the beginning of his ramble.

“Are you sure? Maybe that’s what you need.” Maybe it was the hour or the context of the situation, but you could swear for a second that this sentence had some air of teasing to it.

“I- I don’t, Professor Reid,” you stammered out.

“Tell me something, Y/N. Why are you the only student I have who still calls me ‘Professor Reid?’” he questioned.

“It’s respectful,” you tried, but it sounded like bullshit even as the words left your tongue. Spencer wasn’t that far off your age. Every one of your classmates called him by his first name, as he had said he was comfortable with several times. But you knew that calling him by his first name would put him on the same level as you, and if you didn’t see him as your professor, you weren’t sure you’d be able to control yourself.

“I’ve said several times that it’s okay to call me Spencer. All of my students do, and some even call me ‘Reid,’ they’re that comfortable. Yet, you only use ‘Professor,’ ‘Professor Reid,’ and ‘sir’ to address me,” he went on. You slowly started to realize that he was profiling you, and you felt your face grow redder, already knowing the outcome: He would figure you out.

In hopes of making yourself seem clueless, you shrugged. He wasn’t buying it, and asked, “Does this have anything to do with your continued nervousness around me?”

“I- I’m not nervous,” you could barely manage to get out, let alone lie properly. Deflection was your last hope of getting Spencer to drop this topic, a hope that you were almost positive would not be worth hoping for.

“Look at me, then, Y/N.”

No. Immediately, no.

“If you’re so ‘not nervous’ around me like you say, then look at me. If you’re not anxious, or shy, you should have no problem doing so,” Spencer said in a confident tone.

“I- I can’t look at you,” you immediately returned. You wanted to, but given the context of this situation, you knew he’d easily get you to talk if you did.

“Why?” he asked, his tone one of pure and utter confusion. Because I’m afraid of what I’ll say if I do.

“I just can’t,” you repeated, rubbing your eyes.

He sighed again, sounding genuinely exasperated. “Do you need me to profile it out of you, Y/N? Because I have no trouble doing that,” he said sternly. “I want you to feel comfortable around me. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

When you didn’t respond, he took a deep breath, tapping his fingers on his desk before standing up and continuing. You were really looking away now. The fact that he was at least five inches taller than you was not helping.

“You show common signs of tenseness when I’m around you, like a stiff jaw, sweating, shaking, and, above all, avoiding eye contact,” he started, and you scoffed. Fucking profilers.

“Your body language offers common tells of your continued nervousness around me, like touching your face, constantly fidgeting with your hands and hair, and turning red when I say your name.”

“Stop,” you managed to say, your face growing darker at his words. But he continued.

“You’re talkative and open with others, but closed off and shy with me. You talk with your hands during class but they find their way into your hair the second I’m in your presence,” he went on.

“Stop,” you tried again, your voice growing quieter and your singular word coming out in a low whisper.

“You’re my only student who seems to refuse to call me by my first name. You can present in my class without flash cards but are unable to form clear, coherent sentences around me-“

“For fuck’s sake, Spencer, I’m attracted to you!” you finally blurted, unable to take any more of this.

He stopped talking, looking at you as if he was physically unable to process what you had just said. “What?”

“I’m attracted to you,” you repeated again, finally looking up at him and now realizing how hard it would be. Your cheeks were clearly flushed red, and your body was trembling.

He chuckled for a second, then immediately stopped. “That’s what this is?” he asked you in disbelief, his tone evidently amused, as if this was something he heard on the daily basis. “Attraction?”

“Yes,” you returned.

“And it makes you this nervous to talk to me?” he asked you genuinely, but his voice still showed underlying tones of amusement.

“Yes.”

He thought for a moment, truly taking in your words. Then, a faint smirk danced across his face as he walked around his desk with his hands in his pockets, stopping a few feet away from you.

You refused to give him whatever satisfaction he seemed to be gaining by teasing you and looked away as he looked at you. He chuckled, stepping closer. “You’re nervous because of a little crush? Come on, Y/N. How old are you?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes again and remained silent.

“Look at me,” he said sternly, taking another step closer. There was now minimal distance between the two of you. It would be easy to lean and kiss him. What the hell is he doing to you?

All you did was shake your head. Absolutely not.

He reached out to cup your cheek, caressing his thumb over it as he looked down at you with a smirk, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye.

“You’re always so good in class. Be a good girl for me now, won’t you, Y/N?” he cooed, continuing to smooth his thumb over your face. You felt yourself growing redder by the second.

You shook your head, not at him, but at yourself for what you were about to do. You were too easy. You made eye contact with him, gazing lewdly up into his auburn eyes.

“That’s it,” he murmured. You were correct: He was smirking at you. He spoke up again. “Three months is a long time, sweetheart. How many fantasies have you had about me in that time?”

You blushed harder at that, stuttering out, “A lot.”

“Voice one to me,” Spencer continued in a raspy tone. His voice was riling you up, and you were almost unsure of how to answer. “What’s on your mind?”

“I- I’ve thought about-,” you tried, but you stopped, unsure if you should even speak the explicit fantasy that came to your mind first into the universe.

Noticing your hesitation, Spencer said, “You can say it, sweetheart. What have you thought about?” he demanded, although his words were almost sweet.

You took a breath of courage before replying, “A- About you, bending me over your desk,” you barely managed to stutter out.

He chuckled even further at your shy admission. “Doing what to you?” he asked in his teasing tone.

You let out a small frustrated groan. Isn’t it obvious?

“Fucking me.”

He gave you a flirty smile at your words. “What do you want, sweetheart?” he now asked you in a raspy tone, the distance between you becoming too hard to resist closing.

“To take you across this desk,” you openly admitted, finding it difficult to stare at his eyes when his lips were so close.

“Then do it.”

His words mixed with his proximity gave you the confidence to finally pull him in, wrapping your arms around his neck and fervently kissing him. To your surprise, he reciprocated instantly, roughly grabbing your waist and backing you into his desk.

He lifted you up with ease and sat you on the only part of it that wasn’t filled with papers, his lips never leaving yours as his tongue explored your mouth. After a few minutes, there was nowhere his hands hadn’t roamed, as he shamelessly grabbed your neck, cupped your tits, and squeezed your ass.

His fingers found their way under your dress, his cold hands meeting your warm skin. You shuddered at the contact, moaning surprisedly into your kiss. You could feel him tugging at the hem of your panties as he pulled back from you, breathing heavily.

“Professor,” you breathed out, calling him ‘Professor’ out of habit. He shook his head at you in response to it.

“Say my name,” he demanded of you, continuing his movements with his hand as he looked down at you.

“Sp- Spencer,” you stammered out, breath quickening at his dominant tone.

“Attagirl,” Spencer praised, hands dipping suddenly into your panties. You gasped, looking up at him with a sultry stare. His fingers slid in between your soaked folds and you involuntarily let out a whorish moan.

“Fuck, doll, you’re already this wet?” he asked you in a tone that was a mixture of both surprise and excitement as his fingers felt all of your built up arousal. “Is this all for me?”

You didn’t know what to say, in pure and utter shock that this was even happening.

He gave you a look that screamed both pleading and demanding at the same time. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he cooed, moving his fingers in no particular direction, which made you moan softly anyway.

“I- It’s all for you, Spencer,” you stammered.

“There you go. I like hearing that pretty voice of yours,” Spencer cooed. He buried a finger into your cunt, and you groaned at the sudden intrusion. He started slow, making sure you were comfortable with this sensation, then stuck another in, quickening his pace.

You arched your back as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that you had never been able to reach when you were touching yourself alone. He knew exactly what he was doing, using another finger to rub slow circles around your clit. He pumped his fingers in and out fast, eliciting several moans of pleasure from you.

You leaned in to fiercely kiss him as he continued to finger you, sliding your tongue into his mouth. He accepted it gladly, gently choking you with his other hand as the two of you kissed. You groaned into it, his use of force getting you closer and closer to your high.

He pulled away, then started on your neck, kissing and sucking harshly as he continued to finger you below. His pace was getting faster, pushing his fingers deeper with every second that went by. When he curved them further than he had before, he found exactly where your pleasure point was: Your G-Spot.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you groaned out, your climax directly around the corner as he left kisses and no doubt hickies all over your neck.

He payed close attention to your reaction, making sure to continue to finger you directly where you needed him and continuing to rub your clit in quick motions. You were nearly there, and he surely knew that. However, suddenly, all movements ceased, and he pulled away from your neck to lustfully look down on you, retracting his fingers from your wetness.

You looked up at him with a mirroring lustful expression, but only because you were so close to releasing, and he had just taken that away from you.

“Sp- Spencer? Why’d you stop?” you stuttered out a little frustratedly.

“Because that’s not where I want you to finish,” he said, like it was the most simple thing to humanly comprehend. He backed up a step, then lifted you from his desk, spinning you round and bending you over it in one swift movement. You gasped as his hand found your lower back, his crotch pressed up on you and his bulge pressing into your ass.

“Spencer-“

“You said you saw me bending you over across my own desk, right?” Spencer reminded you in a low voice.

“Y- yeah,” you returned in a needy voice.

“Thought so.”

You could hear him unbuckling his belt from behind, working quickly to undo it with his only free hand. The sound was followed by that of his zipper, and then of him shrugging his pants partially down. He then turned his attention to you, pulling your dress up and revealing your red panties that matched the color of your dress. He chuckled, no doubt at that fact, then pulled them down.

He took his cock out of his boxers and pumped it up and down a few times. You tried to turn your head back to look, but he used his free hand to turn your head back around. You were about to say something about it, until he suddenly thrusted deep into your cunt, and you let out a whorish moan.

“F- Fuck, you’re so big, Spencer,” you couldn’t help but moan out. He was far inside of you, and his throbbing cock was no doubt seven inches minimum.

“You can take it,” he groaned back, placing his hand on the back of your head as he moved slowly but deeply into you. His hands roamed your body again, settling on your tits. He used a hand to grab one, eliciting a mewl from you. He fondled it with force, running his thumb in forceful circles around your tit as he pounded into you relentlessly.

“You like being fucked like this, sweetheart?” he cooed in your ear, voice audibly raspy as his movements didn’t cease.

“Yes, sir,” you responded in a slutty voice, calling him ‘sir’ for the first time in what felt like years.

“Such a, fuck- Slut for me,” he said in between thrusts. His pace was getting faster now as he rammed into you from behind, going at a speed you were finding difficult to not readily climax from. His words only enhanced this feeling.

He grabbed the back of your head by your hair, turning you to face a part of the classroom to your left.

“That’s where you sit in my class. Perfect view of my desk. Do you fantasize about this when you look at it?” he asked. His words came out in groans as he tried to both talk and maintain his quick pace.

“Maybe,” you breathed as you looked at your own desk where you had been sitting mere hours beforehand, never in a million years anticipating this.

“That’s not an answer,” he forcefully said, ceasing his movements and beginning to pull his cock from your cunt.

“Wait- Fuck,” you sighed, whimpering when you no longer felt him inside of you. “Yes, I do,” you admitted, telling him exactly what he wanted to hear.

He chuckled at your needy attempt to feel him inside of you again, teasing your wet entrance with the tip of his cock. “That desperate, huh?”

“Y- Yes, sir,” you said softly, finding it hard to get any words out as you took note of his teasing. He thrusted back into you, pushing hard and fast.

“Slut,” Spencer grunted. He pulled your head back by your hair, managing to grip it gently despite his rough pace. “My fucking slut.”

You moaned at his use of degradation, feeling your climax beginning to bubble up inside of you again, but you held it back, wanting to prolong the pleasurable feeling that you were receiving.

“Such a, fuck- Slutty dress,” he suddenly commented, toying with the hem on your dress. “Always wearin’ skirts hiked all the way up to your ass. Hoping I’d notice that, sweetheart?” he asked, the hand that was pulling your hair roaming over to your neck and choking you.

All you could do was nod as your words failed you, coherent sentences vacant in your head and absent from your mouth, as they usually were regardless.

“Use your words, baby,” he demanded of you, squeezing down harder on your neck.

You groaned out, complying and stammering, “Y- Yes,” in response to his question.

“That’s a good girl. Doin’ so fucking good for me,” Spencer praised you.

You were moaning loudly now, the sound of both of your grunts filling the air as Spencer continued at his quick speed. You could feel your eyes watering at the pressure and size of his cock that was deep into your cunt, and your climax was approaching as fast as his pace was going.

“Spencer,” you whispered, cheeks hot and absolutely flushed.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer groaned back.

“I’m close,” you breathed, words breaking.

He let out a soft moan at your words, then moved his hand away from your neck and down to your clit. He rubbed it in quick circles as he had done before, gladly helping you to reach your high. You bit your lip, loud moans and whines falling from your mouth.

“That’s it, doll. I want to hear you,” he demanded of you in response to your moans, his long fingers moving on your throbbing clit as fast as his cock was pounding into your cunt.

You happily complied, continuing to moan out as broken murmurs of his name fell from your lips. He let out his own moans as he chased his high, too. He used his free hand to grip your ass, holding you roughly as he groaned behind you.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Let it out,” he groaned.

His words pushed you over the threshold, being all you needed to finally moan out his name loud as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Spencer groaned out your name, too, as he finished inside of you, gripping your ass as roughly as he possibly could.

When you were both done, he pulled out, breathing heavily as he returned his cock to his boxers. You pulled your panties up and your dress back down, breathing heavily too as you looked back at Spencer with tousled hair.

Spencer stuck the two fingers he’d used to finger you into his mouth, sucking away whatever elements of your release he had managed to get on his hand. You let out a soft moan at the view as Spencer looked down on you. He moved his other hand on your waist.

“You taste sweet,” he whispered to you, caressing his thumb over your hip. Your legs were shaking, and, taking note of this, he picked you up and sat you on his desk. You smiled tiredly up at him as he did.

“I take it this means I’ll get a good grade on my essay?” you joked, giggling.

He smiled down at you, planting a sweet kiss onto your forehead. “A+, baby. A+.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut

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wowowwild · 1 year ago

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Absolutely. The way he shows up to that concert with Trucy and watches him perform and is still like 'Yeah, no, I literally cannot interpret him as anyone else than Prosecutor Gavin, I get he's a rock star and I just watched him perform, but that's literally just Prosecutor Gavin' and then the only part he actually liked was the part that Klavier was most proud of. It's like showing up to a One Direction concert and going 'wow, my work associate Harry sure does bounce around a lot, I wonder if he'll be late on Monday to our talk about spread sheets' or whatever. I dunno why I gave Harry Styles an office job. But I digress.

It's so funny their first case and all those fans are screaming and Apollo's just like 'over this guy?' and then he never changes his mind about it. He does not care that this man is famous, nor what he's famous for, and I think it has to affect Klavier when Apollo starts trying to know him, the real him, and not just wanting to know Klavier Gavin, lead singer of the Gavinners, even after he knows that's who he is. Apollo's desire to know and then help Klavier is just genuine, like everything else about him, which would have to be a refreshing change of pace compared to his experience in the music world.

This is probably my favorite thing about their dynamic to the point that I one of my favorite things is to write Apollo completely forgetting that Klavier is famous bc it just straight up doesn't matter to him, doesn't make a difference. That's just the guy who objects by hitting the wall and is willing to be petty at all times and says things like 'quite the pickle' and has such a strong will and sense if self and always does what's right no matter the personal cost. And no one who just likes the idea of him could ever see that.

And Klavier would absolutely ugly cry about it. I think after what they go through it would be hard not to love each other in some way. And that's how you end up with Apollo 'just a guy' Justice and his 'also just a guy' boyfriend Klavier 'just happens to be famous' Gavin.

You ever think about Klavier Gavin, having grown up with someone as manipulative as Kristoph and then being thrown into stardom and being sweet talked by millions of fans who only love the idea of Klavier Gavin but dont know the real person under that mask he carefully build over time? Do you think about him finding Apollo Justice, who is blunt and honest to a fault and does not care about Klavier Gavin the Rockstar, he cares about Klavier Gavin the person and he will tell him so? He will tell him that he loves him? And Klavier Gavin will tell Apollo Justice that he loves him too?

#i think apollo knows his wikifeet score though. how? why? dunno. I just think that would be funny.#ace attorney #apollo justice #klavier gavin #klapollo #um anyway i hope that's coherent and saying what i want it to.#wild thoughts

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tswhiisftteedr · 1 year ago

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Hiya!! I was wondering if I could ask for some nsfw fem reader x husk (hazbin hotel) where husk basically just eating reader out, face sitting etc.

Also keep up the good writing!! I love your writing from what I’ve seen and i hope you do well with your other requests too!!

Don’t worry, I’m right here with you. ☆ Oneshot

Soft Dom!Husk x Sub!Hotel Resident!Fem!Reader:

After spending quite sometimes getting to know each other, you and husk finally begin dating. Anyways, today Lucifer came to the hotel for the first time and that was a super, but it wasn’t the main event of yours and husk’s days. So after an altercation with Alastor, husk seek solace in you for comfort, which you give, and he decides to thank you in his own special way for it.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, that scene where alastor uses husk soul chain and threatens him, Unspecified Vices, Mutual Pinning, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Soft Husk, Sorta Bad Written Comfort.

Words: 10567

Note: There is smut, BUT, beside the intro which is just suggestive, the smut will be at the end, so If you don’t want smut and just fluff you can just not read it. It’s the same with my last Zestial work, it’s like 3/4 sfw and 1/5 smut. Btw Antonio Esfandiar aka "The Magician" is a professional poker player and former professional magician, known for his elaborate chip tricks. That’s the only reason I mentioned him if you were curious about that lol.

☆ more under the cut. ☆

Honestly, you had attempted to question how things had ended up like that—

“Ah, fuck, Husk, it's too much!” You cried out in overstimulation.

“Shh, it's okay, baby, I know you can handle it,” he reassured, softly stroking the underside of your right thigh to offer comfort.

— But truthfully, every train of thought you’d tried to start would derail quicker than the previous one. Without doubt, that man, Husk— he would be the end of you.

Yet, no need for worry as, I, your illustrious ‘historian,’ am here to recount the tale of how you found yourself in this predicament; as you're obviously too preoccupied getting your brains fucked out by Antonio Esfandiari over there to form any sort of recollection, or even a coherent thought for that matter.

Now, let’s backpedal four months ago, shall we?

You had been in the infernal realm for a little while, precisely half a year. You managed to secure a job and a place to stay, but ‘living’ down here was anything but easy.

To survive, you had to stretch your earnings, rationing food and water to make them last longer than they should, leaving you hungry more than once.

And when you were really desperate for cash—well, let's just say you had to resort to some unsavory means to get your hands on it.

Additionally, it had been a month since Princess Morningstar introduced her hotel to the public of the hell on 666 news. As expected, the masses of sinners inhabiting the pride ring ridiculed the princess and her redemption-themed endeavors.

Initially, the idea seemed far-fetched, as if redemption were truly an option — Why hadn't anybody else proposed it before?

That's what you and your friends had agreed upon when first watching the interview. But as time passed, you began to reconsider your friend group's shared consensus. Perhaps, just maybe, ‘redemption wasn't such a crazy concept after all.’

That's why you now found yourself standing in front of the princess's Hazbin Hotel, formerly known as Happy Hotel, nervous and with slightly sweaty palms.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you knocked on the large, stained glass-filled windows, as ‘it was now or never’.

After waiting patiently for about five minutes, just as you were about to turn away—possibly never to return—as the building seemed vacant. The large doors swung open, revealing the princess herself standing before you.

"Um, is this the redemption hotel from the news?" you inquired, even though it was plain as day from the building's illuminated 'Hazbin Hotel' sign and the fact that the princess, the one who pitched the hotel on 666 news, was literally standing in front of you.

With the brightest and most joyful smile you'd seen down here, she opened her mouth to speak. "Oh mygod!Ohmygod!Ohmygod!Areyousomeonewho’sactuallyinterestedinthehotel???likeyougenuinelywanttotryandgiveredemptionashot???!!!Holyshit,thisisthehotel’sgreatestsinceSirPentioushasjoined!!!!" Princess Morningstar blurted out in a rush, as if she didn't deliver the information fast enough, you would leave.

As you tried to make sense of her rapid jumble of words—something about 'actually wanting to be redeemed' and someone named 'Sir Righteous' or was it 'Sir Delicious'?—you also noticed a crowd of individuals walking closer to the doors.

The group consisted of six people: A woman with an X over her eye, wielding an angelic weapon—'Delightful,' you sarcastically thought.

A grumpy tuxedo cat man with a red bow, his fur acting as some sort of substitute for his lack of shirt; he was also 'sort of handsome, y'know?'.

Then there was a snake man that screamed steampunk; he seemed sort of familiar, but you didn’t remember where you’d seen his slithery mug before.

There was also a tiny woman with one eye; she seemed full of energy and sorta stabby.

Then, second to last, we had—Unholy hell! It’s the porn actor Angel Dust! You remembered the princess mentioning him as a patron here, but you hadn’t expected to encounter him in the flesh and fur.

He seemed to notice the starstruck gaze in your eyes caused by his presence, so he shot you a wink. With a bit of internal fangirling along the way, you finally managed to get your heart rate to go back down.

You then shift your attention back to the rest of the crowd and notice the final person standing there, and HOLY SHIT, THE RADIO DEMON IS THERE—!

Your heart rate shoots back up, and you take a step back in fear, causing you to stumble over a pebble and fall on your ass. You curse yourself for being too engrossed in the sight of a celebrity to ignore the immense danger that is literally right there in front of you.

"Why, hello there, and who might you be, you wayward soul? It’s not often that we see sinners seeking out redemption." the Radio Demon inquired, accompanied by what you could only assume was his ‘iconic smile’.

You obviously didn’t know firsthand, as, for one, you hadn’t met the demon before, and for another, he was apparently in the sixth year and a half of his seven-year getaway when you manifested.

But you had heard the stories, and they were enough to make you absolutely petrified at the sight of that grin plastered on his face.

He seemed to rather enjoy your pitiful display, while you only grew more terrified.

“Oh no, are you okay? Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” The princess asked, breaking you away from your scared state and extending her hand.

With a bit of hesitation, you took it. “Uh, no. No, I’m okay, it was just a little fall.” you told her.

“Oh, okay, I’m glad it was nothing. Anyways, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, we are so glad to have you here!” She said as she began to lead you inside, and the others followed, each finding their place within the hotel;

The cat man heading to the bar, Angel Dust lounging on one of the couches, the little woman chasing bugs around, and both the radio demon and the spear-wielding woman following you and Charlie.

Once she had you comfortably seated on one of the lounge's couches, she began to introduce herself and everyone present. “Sooo, hi. I’m Charlie, the owner and founder of this hotel.”

“I think she already knows who you are, princess” the cat man interjected. “Oh, right,” she realized.

While all you could think upon hearing him speak was, 'Fuck. Even his voice is sexy.'

“Anywho, this is Alastor, our gracious facility manager.” Charlie said, pointing at the Radio Demon. “Your pleasure to meet.” he told you.

“And this is Vaggie, the co-founder and my girlfriend.” Charlie continued. Vaggie approached you, and you shook hands. “Nice to meet you.” she said. “Likewise.” you responded.

“Next up, we have Husk, our bartender, and Niffty, our cleaning staff.” she gestures towards the bar. “Nice to meet you.” Husk offers, while Niffty chimes in with a big, eccentric “Hello!”

“And lastly, we have our residents and your potential fellow guests if you decide to stay.” she adds with a slightly unsure chuckle. “Angel and Sir Pentious!”

“No offense, Charls, but the broad probably knew who I was, no need for an intro.” Angel quips teasingly before approaching you. “But anyways, it’s good to see a new face around here, so welcome, toots.” he says, extending his hand, which you shake. “Thanks for your hospitality.” you reply.

Feeling a little less on edge, you approach the final resident. “Sir Pentious, right? It’s nice to meet you.” you say, extending your hand. “Oh, no, darling, the pleasurrre izzz all mine.” he replies, shaking your hand. Just as you finish, you hear a small gasp from Charlie.

You turn to look at her, and she says apologetically, "I totally forgot to ask you for your name! I am so sorry for that." With a comforting smile, you tell her, "It’s no worries, really. I’m Y/N, Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you again, I guess."

“Nice to meet you again too, Y/N,” she says with a giggle. Then she adds, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what brought you to the hotel? I mean, what led you our way?”

“I saw your interview on 666 news with Katie Killjoy a month ago.” you tell her.

“Oh, you did? Um, did you see alllll of it?” Charlie asks, momentarily shocked and a little nervous afterward, but you understood why.

“If you’re talking about the fist fight and the news anchor on fire, yes, I did. It’s probably the thing most people remember from that news segment.” you answer her, confirming her assumptions.

“Oh, right.” Charlie says, a little embarrassed.

“Well, if you saw that, then why are you here? Are you trying to mock us in person?” Vaggie asks you, getting slightly defensive as the interview was not the best display of the hotel.

“No, nothing like that.” you reassure at first. Then you continue, “Well, actually, at first when I saw it on the news, I definitely laughed at the idea of a redemption hotel. So did my friends. Actually, I think everyone did. I heard from one of my imp friends that even in the other rings, people were making fun of it.” You say, deflating Charlie further and further with each word.

"But," you begin once more, bringing back some sort of hope to her,

"The more I thought about it, the less crazy stupid it all seemed. I mean, at first, I was like, 'If it's such a good idea, why didn't anyone think of it before?'.

Then, with more reflection, I realized that even if someone had pitched something like it before, there wouldn't be a big trace of it anyways.

I mean, you saw how people reacted when you presented it; it was made fun of and forgotten by most.

Also, considering the fact that the powerhouses of our ring profit from the fact that there are people down here to exploit, even if someone had the same idea and people to back them up, it would definitely have been shut down and covered up.

Because if people get redeemed and get out of hell, the big fishes don’t make as much profit anymore." You explain, and this seemed to reason with Charlie and the others around.

“Honestly, I think the only reason you don’t have people directly targeting you and your hotel is because you’re the princess. I mean, sure, people can make fun of you, but actually attacking you, well, that’s a no-go territory,” you add on.

And everyone, even Charlie, who seemed to like staying in the delusion that ‘in every demon there is a rainbow,’ couldn’t help but agree. If she wasn’t the princess, there was sure to be some people coming by and hurting everyone here, ‘just because.’

“Anyways, when I made peace with the concept, I thought, why not me when it came to redemption. I mean, sure, I did some unsavory things to end up down here, but I wasn’t some serial killer or sex trafficker either,” you explain further.

“Plus, I have all eternity, well, unless an exorcist’s blade or some Carmine weapon-wielding freak comes my way—“ you slightly deviate but remember to get back on track,

“Anyways, the point is if I can do whatever for ‘basically forever,’ why not give redemption a shot. I mean, worst-case scenario, I just avoid doing bad stuff for nothing, but at least that simultaneously keeps me out of trouble, so it’s not ‘that bad,’ you know?” You finish your explanation and look back at Charlie to see the immense joy in her eyes caused by someone actually taking a full interest in being part of her project.

“Well, I am so glad you think that way, Y/N. And the fact that you decided to come here even though your entourage still thinks, well, that the hotel is a joke, was very brave of you.

Also, just letting you know, as you may not be aware since it was not mentioned during the interview you watched, but here at the Hazbin Hotel, we offer free rooms, food, electricity, and if you're feeling like it, from time to time alcohol, though moderation is more than encouraged.” she informed.

“Well, that’s great. I mean, I didn’t really think about the fact that you may have asked for cash for staying here, but as it is some sort of a ‘nonprofit,’ it does make sense that you don’t.” you tell her in a relieved manner.

“Of course, we want to help people here. It wouldn’t be fair for us to ask money from our guests. Anyways, why don’t I go over what would be your weekly schedule, hotel-wise, as a resident, and then I can show you to your room?” she asked.

“That would be wonderful.” you tell her.

It had been a couple of weeks since you joined the hotel, and you would say that things have been going ‘alright.’

I mean, Charlie’s ‘activities’ were more often silly than not, but they didn’t necessarily do any harm. The hardest part was staying away from your vices—‘that was the real kicker’.

Which brings us to why you were currently seated on a bar stool, gradually drowning yourself in alcohol as Husk poured drink after drink at your request.

"You know, if you keep pushing away your vices but then return here every time instead, you're just fostering a dependence on booze," Husk cautioned, sliding your fifth Midori Sour over to you. "And when you finally have to cut out drinking altogether, you'll likely revert to your old habits. You're turning this ‘rehabilitation thing’ into a sort of yo-yo diet, if you ask me.”

You stared at the drink after finishing your previous one.

— You had first tasted something like it when you went out for your first legal drink at 21, asking for something sweet with a bit of a kick alcohol-wise.

The bartender had recommended it to you, then as you drank it, he went on a rant about how it was "made with Midori melon liqueur, lemon juice, and simple syrup" and that "It's sweet, refreshing, and has a medium alcoholic content" — the “perfect drink for you”.

He was good-looking, like the current bartender in front of you, so you had let him talk—just like you let Husk talk.

Sure, having spent a considerable amount of time down here and living well beyond his twenties, you could acknowledge that Husk did have some wisdom to himself.

However, there were moments — particularly when he embarked on his tangents about how "you won’t find your answers at the bottom of a bottle,"— then, you simply wanted to shut him up.

Whether it was by pointing out that while he might be correct in his assessment, he failed to offer real advice on how to find those answers. Saying shit like "don’t do that, there are better ways to deal with your issues" yet always neglecting to explain what those "other ways" might be — frankly, it was all quite frustrating.

But each time it occurred, you chose to keep your mouth shut to avoid any conflict. After all, from what you had observed, you genuinely liked Husk as a person and didn’t want any tension between the two of you.

Nevertheless, despite your growing frustration with the men, your mind couldn’t help but entertain the other option that would allow you to ‘catch the cat’s tongue’; wondering how quickly he would stop talking if you pressed your lips to his.

Yet, ultimately, it remained a mere fantasy, something confined to the realm of imagination, one never to enter reality. —

“Thanks, Husk,” was all you said as you took the glass and downed your goddamn Midori Sour.

Several hours had passed since your fifth drink, and more than one other had entered your system by now. You and Husk were now discussing on a more personal level.

“It’s all so weird, you know. It’s not like my soul is trapped in a contract like yours or Angel’s,” Husk’s face slightly winced at the reminder that he, in fact, didn’t own his own soul. However, he stayed quiet and let you talk without interjecting, as he respected you and you were pouring your heart out. “Yet, I can’t help but feel like it is,” you told him. “I try to be better, I really do, but it’s so, so hard not to do the bad things I’m not supposed to do when they all feel so fun and right to me in the moment. I mean, I do regret them afterward, but I keep wanting to do them anyway.”

You take a sip of your drink, and Husk follows suit. “You know, you would think the moment I feel the most trapped is right after I’ve done what I wasn’t supposed to,” you muse, contemplating the complexities of your situation. “I had my fun, and as I suffer the consequences, I feel encaged. But it’s not. It’s actually right before I even do it. I feel it in my whole body—a feeling that this is the only way for me, that I can never let go of this high.

No matter how hard I push myself to get better, to be better, I’m not really leaving the cage. I’m just pacing around in circles, pretending that the loop isn’t there and I’m actually getting away.

I just want to run, but I’m afraid that if I actually try, I’ll probably just hit my head against the cage’s bars,” you confess, tears of anxiety welling in your eyes as you begin to sniffle.

With that, Husk grabs your hand and begins to rub soothing circles on it with his thumb, offering comfort in his touch as he speaks up. “Listen, I can’t say that everything will be alright. That's bullshit, and that saying has always been bullshit, but it’s even more full of holes down here,” he pauses to take another sip of his drink, collecting his thoughts. “And I personally know firsthand how it feels to be where you are right now. And I mean it, even without the whole Alastor thing, though it is a big part of it.”

Pausing once more, then taking a big breath, “You know, I used to be an overlord once,” he reveals, capturing your attention even further. “Yeah, and it was nice to have that power. But when you’re dealing with souls while also being a gambler, the stakes are pretty high. And losing a few hands can be more than a little dangerous. So when you’re down on your luck, you turn to anything to keep you afloat, even making deals yourself.”

Husk continued his story, delving into his past life before he was sent to the underworld. “But even before that shit show, I had another for me up there. Back when I was alive, I was a magician, a pretty big one at that. But at some point, I got into booze. It wasn’t a big issue at first, but it soon spiraled out of control after some other bad choices.

You see, a buddy of mine, another magician, had a gig at Caesars Palace. Being the good friend he was, he invited me along to party with him after his show. And party we did. It was one wild night—we drank, got plastered, enjoyed the company of some lovely ladies and fellas, and, most importantly, we played games.

That night marked my first taste of gambling, and it was exhilarating. I decided to play it safe and not bet too much, but it turned out Lady Luck was on my side. I won big, about two thousand dollars, while only betting twenty bucks.”

Husk paused, reflecting on those memories. “After that, I couldn’t help but come back the next day. Call it beginner's luck or whatever, but I was on a roll. In the span of two weeks, I had made enough money to last me two lifetimes.

But back then, it didn’t satisfy me, and it still didn’t when I first got down here either. Anyways, even after hitting such a big jackpot, I didn’t stop. I actually stopped magic altogether and fully transitioned to being a full-time gambler.

And for a while, it worked. But money wasn’t the only thing I got greedy with.

The amount of alcohol became too much for my body to take, and one day, I just dropped dead. A cardiac arrest was all it took to end me, while at the time it happened, I was convinced I was on top of the world.

Then I ended up down here. So, after spending quite some time just drowning myself in alcohol, only to make my alcoholism worse, I sort of got back on my feet. I became powerful and an overlord, but you already know how that went.

The both times I thought I was indestructible were also the both times when I was the reason behind why I got destroyed.”

You took hold of Husk's hand back, no longer content to simply let him hold yours.

“So now, every time I'm about to take a swig or play a game, while I may be confident in my skills, I can't shake the feeling that if I wanted to seek something else out, a different career path or way of life, I just couldn’t — that I've already burned those bridges for myself for all of eternity.

I feel trapped by my own actions and technically am too, but the worst part is that I don’t know if I’ll ever break free. But you, as you said, still have your soul. So maybe, even if it feels insurmountable right now, you can find the key to your cage and finally step out of it. And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, you can come by and try to find mine with me.”

Husk's way of speaking offered a different kind of comfort compared to Charlie's approach. Yet, it somehow brought you closure. It was honest and reliable, two things hard to find down here.

You gently squeeze his hand in a gesture of support before speaking up, "If I manage to find that key and finally step out of my cage, I promise you'll be the first person I’ll help find theirs, Husk." Your words are accompanied by a warm smile, which he reciprocates.

"Well, if you're the type to make empty promises, then I'm afraid to tell you but you're stuck with that one now, sweetheart. I'll hold you to it.” he teasingly responds, lightening the mood. "You wouldn't back out after giving a poor old soul like myself hope, now would you?"

"Never!" you assure him, the tears now long gone.

Following that evening, you and Husk grew closer, engaging in deeper conversations with each other than with the other residents.

It proved surprisingly effortless to open up to him once he shed his ‘old wise bartender’ persona. Despite the decades that separated you, both of you felt understood by the other.

Thus, when you began suggesting to Husk that you hang out together outside of the hotel, it didn't take much persuasion to get him on board. You believed it would be beneficial for him to step outside the confines of the hotel, considering it was in some part the physical manifestation entrapment.

Additionally, you planned to avoid places like casinos or bars to help both of you steer clear of your vices.

You envisioned a delightful day filled with laughter and happiness, far from anything that could potentially cause harm to either of you.

That's why you found yourselves in the fourth clothing store of the day. While you had picked up a few items from each previous store after some browsing, Husk had merely glanced around without finding anything to pique his interest.

As you perused the winter section, you stumbled upon the perfect ensemble: a charming white knitted skirt adorned with two small fluffy pompons, complemented by a matching top and a white bubble coat trimmed with fur.

Knowing you already had the perfect shoes to complete the look at home, you approached Husk with the outfit in hand.

"Soooo, what do you think of this one?" you inquired, prompting him to turn away from whatever had captured his attention to inspect your find.

"Hmm, well, it doesn't seem like it covers much. Are you sure you found it in the ‘winter section’? You'd probably freeze your ass off wearing that in the winter cold," he teased with a playful comment.

With an exaggerated sigh and a playful hip pop, you quip, "You just don’t understand, it's all about the 'aesthetic'," adding a fake tone of disdain that prompts both of you to burst into laughter at your absurdity.

Returning to a more serious tone, you inquire, "But really, aside from the fact that it's not exactly suitable for cold weather, what do you think of it?"

"Well, if we overlook the fact that you'd freeze solid walking outside in this, I have to admit the outfit is pretty nice. I think it would suit you," he replies earnestly before adding with a teasing voice, "and your aesthetic," eliciting more laughter from both of you.

You then notice something in his hands and ask, "Anywho, what do you have there?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just a little trinket that caught my eye. I probably won't buy it, though," he says, showing you the item—a watch with a roulette pattern on it. It was a bit pricey, but not overly extravagant. It looked cute and suited him well.

"It looks really nice. It would suit you very nicely," you tell him, and he smiles sheepishly in response.

"You think so? Thanks. Well, I'm going to put it back. You seem to be done with this store, so I shouldn't keep it in my hands. Wouldn't want to walk out of the store with it without paying," he says, trying to act nonchalant, but it's obvious he's a bit disappointed.

As you consider his situation, you realize that the hotel doesn't really pay Husk to work there, and all the money he used to make was based on gambling.

By staying away from it, he's basically broke now. With that realization, you make up your mind;

"Oh, wait. If you're not going to buy it, you won't mind if I do," you tell him, the gears turning in your head.

"Oh, yeah, no problem," he says as he passes the watch in its box to you.

You then proceed to the checkout and pay your dues. You ask for a separate bag for the watch, which earns you a slightly confused glance from Husk, but you don't mind. As you step out of the store, you suggest going out for ice cream to finish your outing, and he has no problem with it.

As you both enjoy your dessert, you pause to retrieve the bag containing the watch. "Here, this is for you," you tell him, offering the gift.

"Gosh, Y/N, I can't accept that. It's a very nice gift and all, but I can't just take it for nothing. I really appreciate it, really, but I don't deserve it," he rambles to you. Before he could delve further into why he possibly 'didn't deserve it,' you stop him.

"Listen, Husk, it's no problem. I have the money, so it's no big deal for me. Plus, you've become a dear friend of mine by now. Is it that bad for me to want my friends to have nice things?" you ask him.

"No, but I don't think such pricey things should be handed out to anybody just because 'you have the money,'" he states.

"But Husk, you're not just anybody, you're someone dear to me, someone I care about. When I saw the watch, I could only picture it on your wrist. I bought that watch for you and you only.

Also, before you mention returns, that store has a no-return policy.

And lastly, if you feel that bad about it, telling yourself you don’t deserve it, which is not true, you’re a wonderful man who deserves to have nice things— anyways, I interjected, my point is if you feel bad just take it as; this is a gift from me to you, for spending the day shopping around with me even though you weren’t interested in the stores we were going to,” you tell him kindly. As you see him still hesitating, you add one more thing, “Also, you can just not keep it and sell it if you really don’t want it that badly.” That breaks him away from the self-loathing he was internally building.

“Of course not, I’m not going to sell it. It’s a gift from you, a very nice gift at that, and I would never think of selling it,” he tells you, a bit protective of the gift now, which is what you wanted.

“So, looks like you’re keeping it after all.” you tell him, noticing a slight pout on his face as he realizes his words, but then he playfully rolls his eyes and now has a grin on his face. ‘Looks like he has finally accepted the gift.’

"Anyway, thanks for the watch. I’ll make sure to start wearing it as soon as we get to the hotel.” he tells you with that charming smile of his.

"I told you it was no problem." you reply, your face mirroring his.

"Also, if you're comfortable with buying me watches out of the blue, does that mean you would be into being my full-time sugar mommy—" he jokes, which you quickly shut down with a "Not even in your dreams." making both of you laugh once more.

Hangouts like this one continued, ranging from outings to different venues like theaters and restaurants to engaging in activities at the hotel.

For instance, Husk took it upon himself to teach you poker once you mentioned your lack of knowledge in the game.

It was a fun experience, filled with laughter. Turns out, you were quite good at it, although never as skilled as Husk, which occasionally led to moments of rage on your part. However, these instances always ended in laughter.

Currently, you were enjoying a drink with both Husk and Angel at the lounge’s bar;

“You’d think with all that money, he would be able to buy prescription glasses that looked like his current sunglasses,” you commented after Angel mentioned his boss, Valentino's poor eyesight.

“That's what I said! Like, if you're going to be a horrible piece of shit who literally built his empire off being one, you could at least get custom glasses so you could stop looking like an absolute moron when you read or count money. He quite literally spent half an hour counting three bills! How ridiculous is that?” Angel exclaimed, his voice fluctuating in pitch due to the alcohol.

In fact, all of you were a bit tipsy. Each of you displayed it differently—Angel was very excitable and giggly, you felt more sleepy, inclined to lie down, and Husk was more tactile, currently holding one of your hands while using the other to pet your head between sips of his drink.

That last part finally seemed to dawn on Angel, and he couldn’t help but point it out to both of you.

“So, did y’all fuck?” The effeminate fellow inquired.

“What?” You and Husk asked simultaneously, both of you pulling away from each other, visibly flustered.

“I mean, you’ve been getting cozy since we sat down, and I get that you two are ‘friends,’” Angel sarcastically emphasized the word 'friends' with air quotes, “but honestly, every time we get together and drink, you two are always holding each other. Sure, you're not openly cuddling and all, but I can’t remember the last time you weren’t holding hands when drinking. So, I think it’s reasonable for me to ask if you two are fucking” Angel explained his logic, leaving both you and Husk to face the current situation.

Despite Husk initiating the physical contact himself and you allowing it, as well as both of you holding hands, neither of you were aware of how intimate your actions appeared until Angel mentioned it.

It seems somewhat unbelievable, but it’s true.

Neither of you were consciously planning it; your bodies simply expressed your subconscious desire to be close to each other without either of you realizing it.

“Um, no, we didn’t,” you tell Angel, your voice quieter than before out of embarrassment.

“Yeah, we haven’t done anything like that,” Husk admits, matching your tone. Usually, even when talking to Angel, who was a dear friend to both of you, Husk would be more closed off about the sexual or romantic aspect of his afterlife. But the alcohol and the close proximity to you—his comfort person—seemed to have helped him be more open.

Taking a gulp of his drink and finishing it, Angel then speaks up once more. “Then do y’all wanna hook up?” he asks nonchalantly, to which both of you reply with a simultaneous “Angel!”

"Okay, okay, I'll stop," he says, accompanied by a laugh. The conversation is dropped, yet both you and Husk couldn't help but still glance at one another throughout the night, sometimes even making eye contact, which left both of you further flustered.

After Angel's comment, the next few days between you and Husk were awkward as both of you became more aware of each other's thoughts.

Neither of you outright rejected the idea of sexual attraction, and to be honest, you both had a feeling that the other felt similarly when it came to romance.

It was just awkward to actually express it, so for about a week or so, you avoided each other.

But soon the awkward tension began to dissipate. You were just more aware of each other's and your own actions, so if someone did something that crossed the lines of just being friendly, both of you would be aware of it being intentional.

For example, just like now as Husk is teaching you how to play pool;

There's nothing wrong or inappropriate about teaching your friend pool. Even when your friend corrects your form, it's still an innocent action to help you enjoy the game further as you learn the proper way to play.

However, Husk didn’t just show you how to score and watched what you did then correct your flawed form.

No, no, no, Mr. Husk over there didn’t even bother showing you beforehand how to score. He just directly positioned himself behind you, grabbed your hands, and guided you to grab the cue stick, all the while softly whispering in your ear as he directed your movements, explaining what he was doing and how it affects gameplay.

As to why Husk became so bold after a week of avoiding each other, you weren’t sure. And truth be told, he was just tired of burying his feelings deep down to avoid ruining your friendship, especially now that he knew you felt the same way he did.

That day, when you first opened up about your struggles, he felt a deep connection to you.

And when you bought him the watch, it struck a chord with him. Although he wasn’t usually one to focus on material possessions, the fact that you had spent so much on him so effortlessly meant a lot.

Especially when you insisted on him keeping it, expressing that you wanted him to have something nice.

In that moment, he felt deeply cared for, his heart racing as you assured him he deserved it and that he was dear to you.

So today, he decided to take matters into his own hands. If he had misinterpreted your signals and you rejected him, at least he would have tried, rather than spending eternity wondering ‘what if?’

"Then you do it like this," he says as he guides your hands through the motion, and you score. "You’re doing so good.” he murmurs softly near your ear. You'd like to think about the fact that praise wasn't necessary since he was literally guiding your movements, but all you could think about now is; how nice it feels to be so close to Husk. The warmth of his body against yours, how good his voice sounded so close to your ear—it's overwhelming.

Feeling like you might lose yourself if you don't act, you release the pool cue and turn to face him. Well, by facing him, I mean doing so while nearly touching faces due to how close you were to begin with. It stuns both of you for a moment, but you refuse to back down.

Leaning against the pool table for support, you muster the courage to address Husk. "Husk, um, you're really close right now..." you start, but instead of moving away, he questions, "Do you not like it?"

Feeling even more nervous, you realize lying won't work. You couldn't keep up a falsehood when it would be so obviously untruthful, and you didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "No, I like it," you admit.

"Is that all you like?" he probes further, his boldness surprising you. Before you can formulate a response, he adds, "Because I not only like being this close to you, but I also absolutely adore you." simultaneously softly caressing your cheek.

You're left breathless, muttering a quiet "fuck.." because what else could you say in this moment, besides confessing the to the man you've been attracted to since day one of meeting each other and felled in love with only a couple of months into knowing him.

But before Husk could misinterpret your use of a swear as you not being into him, you summoned all your courage and spoke out, "I also like you, Husk. Like, a lot. I found you hot since I first saw you, and soon after, I started falling for you, it’s an ‘in love-type’ of like you."

"Shit," he exclaimed, covering his mouth in disbelief. "I've also found you attractive since day one, and I think I've been in love with you since you gave me that watch," he continued, lifting the arm wearing it to showcase it. "More specifically, how you were acting towards me when you did it."

You paused for a moment, unsure of what to do next. "So, what do you want to do now?" you asked him.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Right now, all I want is to be as close as possible to you, which is far from my usual way of behaving; I'm usually more planned and collected, but when I'm with you now, I feel like I've lost my compass. Yet instead of being anxious, I feel safe and comfortable. Isn't that weird?" he mused.

"I'm not sure if it is, but if it were, would it be weirder if I felt the same way?" you asked him, to which he chuckled.

"No, I don't think it would be weirder," he replied, his hand still resting on your cheek, which you leaned into it, almost resting your head's weight completely on it.

You gazed longingly at each other for about a minute or two until you broke the silence. "So, do you want to make out?" you asked, with ‘that’ slight goofiness in your voice that Husk had come to love.

"Fuck yeah!" Husk exclaimed, mirroring your tone of voice.

His hands transitioned from holding your face and the cue stick to one of them softly gripping your hair from the back of your head —pulling you in— while the other rested on the small of your back for support.

Then your lips finally connected:

As your lips met, you felt an explosion of passion and chemistry that you had never experienced before. Your heart raced, and your pulse pounded in your ears as your mouths danced.

You couldn't believe this was happening. Husk, the gruff and often apathetic demon you befriended, was kissing you with so much intensity and desire. It was as if all his pent-up emotions and feelings were released in that single moment.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly, pulling you even closer to him, and you could feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. You kissed hungrily like your (after)lives depended on it, your tongues entwining in a dance that made you shiver — especially the texture of your companion’s.

His tongue was in between one of a human and one of cat, it wasn’t unpleasant, quite the opposite actually. It did make you wonder how it would feel on other areas of your body. Also, something else to note was that he tasted like whiskey and smoke and honestly —you couldn't get enough.

Continuing on your movements, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting every inch of him. He groaned softly against your lips at that, breaking the kiss for a moment, and you could see the ‘need’ and ‘want’ in his eyes. They were filled with passion and affection, just like yours. He moved to kiss your jawline, trailing kisses down your neck, and you gasped softly, feeling his warm breath against your skin.

After a quick swipe at your collarbones, Husk's lips returned to yours, this time with even more fervor.

His kiss was deep and intense, as if he was trying to consume every part of you.

Your hands slid down his back, feeling his soft fur under your fingers. You could feel his muscles through it, and you loved the feeling. His hands shifted from the small of your back to my waist, pulling you closer to him, your bodies pressed tightly together.

The heat from your bodies mingled, creating an intoxicating warmth between you — a warmth you never wanted to ever quit.

As the intensity of the kiss lessened, your lips started to meet in smaller, delicate pecks. These little kisses were just as passionate as the previous ones, but they carried a different kind of emotion—endearment and love.

Each kiss was more intimate and loving than the last, sealing your connection in a way that words could never explain. Your hands still roamed each other, exploring, but with a gentleness to them.

Husk's hands moved from your waist to your sides, and you could feel his thumbs softly tracing circles on your waist. One of your hand still rested on his back, stroking softly, feeling every muscle, while the other was somewhat on his shoulder.

Finally, breaking the sweet pecks, you pulled away slightly, both panting and slightly out of breath. Your eyes locked, filled with a feelings so profound it was evident you had fallen hard for each other.

Husk gently grabbed the hand that was in his shoulder, pressing it to his lips with a soft kiss. His gaze met yours once again, and you could see the love and adoration shining in his eyes.

"You're so beautiful." Husk whispered, reaching out and gently cupping your face once more.

"Thanks, Husk. You're quite handsome yourself," you tell him with a smile. Then you add, "Anywho, does that mean we're dating now?"

"I'd like that, if you'll have me," he responds.

"There isn't anybody else I'd rather be with." you assure him.

After placing one last kiss on your lips, Husk says, "Same here."

It had been around two weeks since your mutual confession of feelings. Initially, you attempted to keep things low-key by staying in your separate rooms.

However, the amount of time spent together and the display of affection made it evident to everyone in the hotel that you were now a couple.

So, after just a week of attempting to maintain the facade, you both gave up and you moved into Husk's room.

Fast forward to today, the morning had been bustling with preparations for the arrival of Charlie's father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, after she received a call from him.

You pitched in with baking cookies and tidying up, alongside the other residents, to ensure the hotel looked presentable.

Unfortunately, given the hotel's initial state, it wasn't entirely surprising when the chandelier unexpectedly crashed from the ceiling.

What did caught you off guard was the sudden musical performance by the King of Hell, which Alastor swiftly joined, leading to an impromptu song battle between them. Though, the outcome remained undecided, as the duel was interrupted by Mimzy —apparently one of Alastor’s acquaintance— as she introduced herself.

Later down the road, after bothering your boyfriend at the bar, calling him ‘whiskers’, etc., Mimzy then engaged Angel, Pentious, and you in conversation about Alastor and her relationship with him.

But you found yourself more focused on your boyfriend slipping away than on her anecdotes. Consequently, instead of remaining there to listen to her babble, you decided to discreetly follow your boyfriend.

And now, you found yourself hiding around the corner, eavesdropping on the ongoing conversations;

"So once we have proof of redemption as possible, this whole hotel will be full of demons wanting to check out into heaven. We just need a little more time to prove it," you overhear Charlie say, but the voices grow distant, making it hard to catch the rest.

What you do clearly hear is a "Hey boss" from Husk, followed by a questioning hum from Alastor. Then Husk adds, "Can I have a word?"

"What is it?" Alastor responds.

"You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something, that bitch is trouble. And who knows what kind of demon she fucked with to come running into you this time." Husk points out.

"It's nothing I can't handle. Don't worry, Husker. Who in their right mind would cross me?" Alastor replies.

"I mean, you've been gone a while, and it's not like anybody knows why," Husk states.

"They don't need to know, and don't you worry your fuzzy head about it," Alastor dismisses.

"You may own my soul, but I ain’t your pet," Husk asserts.

Following a giggle, Alastor tells Husk, "But you are."

You're about to jump out to defend Husk, but after husk retorted with “Big talk for someone who is also on a leash.“, the atmosphere shifts, with lights flickering, leaving you petrified, especially after hearing a threatening "What did you say?"

You hear the sounds of chains and a thud, and you can only assume Alastor has dragged Husk to the floor.

"Nothing, I, um," your heart sinks at the panic in his voice, but it drops deeper once you hear Alastor's venomous words: "If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every other disrespectful wretch who dares to question me."

Husk lets out a very quiet "Understood," and Alastor replies, "Lovely," then some subdued show tunes music starts playing, then Alastor added a "Good talk, my good man. Always nice to catch up."

After the radio demon's steps fade into silence, you finally step out of your hiding spot and rush to a trembling Husk on the floor. The first thing you do is give him a tight hug and whisper softly, "It’s going to be okay, baby. I’m here with you, Husk."

In that moment, you feel a plethora of emotions—concern and worry for Husk, fear because of Alastor, and guilt due to the fact you had stayed hidden while Husk faced Alastor alone, which makes you feel really shitty. But before guilt can consume you, you focus on getting Husk to somewhere secured, like your shared room. Once he's in a safe place, you can apologize.

With your help, Husk manages to stand up, but he's still too shaken up to walk alone. You guide him to the room, and once inside, you help him onto the bed, both of you holding each other tightly.

You softly stroked the back of his head while placing gentle kisses on his forehead. As you do, you can hear him slightly sniffle, holding back tears. It's obvious he's scared, and it's completely understandable.

You kiss his closed eyelids, and finally, the dam broke. He buries his face into your chest, and by the sounds and the wet feeling of your top, you can tell he's crying. He usually handles Alastor’s antics well, but having his soul threatened like that was just too much for him. You squeeze him tighter, whispering sweet nothings and comforting words.

“You’re going to be okay. I know it was terrifying, what you had to face. It would be for anyone. But it’s going to be okay,” you assure him, stroking his fur. Then you speak out once more, “I am so, so sorry, my love. I should have faced him with you, but I was too much of a coward to do so, so I just stayed hidden.” you apologize, and for the first time since burying himself in your chest, Husk peeks his head out. His face looks puffy from the tears, but what stands out is the empathetic look in his eyes.

“It’s… it’s okay, Y/N. Alastor—that guy, he’s terrifying. I don’t blame you for not jumping in when he got all crazy like that.” he reassures, but you can't rid yourself of the remorse.

“But I should have! That's my duty as your partner, to stand by you! What if he had snapped, and… and,” you say, strong but full of guilt. As you reach the last part, you start to stutter as thoughts rush into your head, and quieter you say, “and he had acted out on those threats.”

As Husk listened to you apologize, he couldn't help but pull you closer, his heart aching for the pain you knew you felt. His fingers traced gently along your soft skin, trying to soothe the distress within you. "Y/N, it's alright... I understand why you didn't intervene," He whispered, trying to make you feel better. His gaze fell upon your damp eyes, and he felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. "Alastor has a way of intimidating even the strongest of us, and you're no exception."

"I've been dealing with him for years, and it's taken a toll on me," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t expect you do anything in that moment, it would have potentially put you in harms way if you did. But know this, I appreciate that you came to comfort me when I needed it most." He could feel your heart pounding against his, and he held you tighter, hoping to ease your anxiety.

"I won’t get into that creepy smiling freak’s way, so he won’t do anything to me, I promise," Husk added, offering a small smile.

As you and him embraced, you felt your hearts beat in sync. Your love for each other was strong, and you knew that together, you could weather any storm.

"Mm, I guess you’re right, Husk," you said softly, your hand stroking his back in a comforting motion. "Despite my guilt, I know we’re both doing the best we can, and I'll always support you no matter what." Your words filled him with a sense of security, knowing that you were there for him through thick and thin.

"I'm glad we're in this together," he replied, his tone soft and grateful. "Even if I wasn't there for you when you needed me today, remember that I'll always have your back, no matter what Alastor throws your and our way." You tell him.

Slowly, you began to ease the tension between us by changing the subject. "Hey, do you remember that time we went to that haunted carnival in the outskirts of Hell for one of Charlie’s activity? And we got stuck on that horribly broken down Ferris wheel?" you chuckled, thinking back to the ridiculous adventure we embarked on. "We were both terrified, but we laughed our asses off, eventually.”

As he recalled the haunted carnival adventure, a soft smile formed on his face, and you couldn't help but join in his laughter. "Oh, that was a nightmare! The way we clung to each other while trying to escape that damned Ferris wheel, and we still ended up covered in cotton candy," he said, shaking his head in amusement. "I thought we'd never make it out alive."

"And don't forget about the ghostly fortune teller who told us we would be together forever," he added, giggling. "I mean, look at us now – ‘living’ proof that she was right!"

Your shared memories brought a warmth to your hearts, and tou continued to laugh about your past misadventures, pushing away the shadows of your current worries. Together, you found solace in the lightness of laughter and the strength of your bond. As you reminisced, he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his heart overflowing with gratitude for this moment.

"You know, Y/N," he said, my voice warm and filled with love, "I wouldn't want to face any challenge with anyone else by my side.”

The warmth of his words washed over you, and he knew that he wanted to show you how much he appreciated your unwavering support. Leaning in, he whispered softly, "I'm glad you were here to comfort me. To show my appreciation, I want to give you something in return – a little treat for being there when I needed it most."

“Husk, baby, you know I didn’t do it for a reward.” You argue

“But I want to.” He tells you, with a look full of passion, his eyes drifted lower, taking in the sight of your delicate shorts, and he knew what he wanted to do next. And that made you weak, and you sorta blanked.

Gently, he untangled the fabric from your legs, revealing your soft, inviting skin. "Please, let me make you feel loved and appreciated too," he said, his voice low and full of desire.

As he next removed your underwear, he could feel your protests beginning to fade under the intensity of my gaze. With a determined smile, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to your skin. "I want to reward you, Y/N," he explained, his breath warm against your sensitive flesh. "Let me show you how much your support means to me."

Husk, typically recognized for his gruff exterior, revealed a tender side as he concentrated on satisfying you. His lips delicately trailed along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, eliciting shivers down your spine.

Understanding the necessity of getting your mind off things if you wanted to get better —as dwelling only exacerbates the pain— he found solace in showering his beloved girlfriend with feelings of desire and appreciation. In his view, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, serving to uplift both of your spirits, a win-win per say;

Gently, folding your legs and pushing on your thighs to stabilize you, Husk then parted your folds with his free hand, his eyes locked on the sight before him. He took a deep breath, inhaling your sweet scent, which only intensified his desire. With a purposeful hunger, he removed his hand and opted to substitute it with his tongue.

He leaned in and licked you, his tongue exploring every inch of your folds, the sensation was supreme, especially with that unusual tongue of his. As the wet muscle adventures further in your nether’s, its odd texture only becomes more pleasurable.

Especially when he would suck at your clit and let the tip of his tongue dance around it as he did. Every stroke, every caress; they spoke volumes of his appreciation for your unwavering support.

Your breath hitched as pleasure slowlybegin to build into something bigger. The intensity of Husk's actions were overwhelming, and you couldn't help but moan in response.

"Husk, I..." you murmured, uncertain if you should continue, your voice trembling with a mix of lust, love, and ‘the obvious fact that he was making you feel too good to speak normally’. But before you could protest or anything like that, he silenced you with another expert stroke of his tongue, his eyes meeting yours with determination and love.

As Husk continued to pleasure you, he knew his actions were doing more than just giving you physical gratification; they were conveying his appreciation for your presence in his life—and that sentiment was mutually understood. And he loved that he could do it that way and you would both comprehend it.

Bringing back his hand into the mix , his skilled fingers—carefully used not to scratch you— and tongue worked in harmony, driving you towards a climax that mirrored the depth of his feelings. Your moans grew louder, filling the room with the sound of your pleasure, and he couldn’t help but relish in ‘those lovely noises of yours’.

With a final flick of his tongue, Husk drew you to the edge, your body arching in response. "That's it, baby" he whispered, his voice low and seductive, yet still comforting. "Let go for me, let me see you shine."

In that moment, you surrendered to the sensations coursing through you, your body trembling and your last scream of pleasure echoing in the room. Husk watched as you reached your peak, his heart swelling with pride…

As you begin to come down from your high but not quite over it yet, Husk couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful state your real ease had caused. His heart continued to race as he regained steady breathing after momentarily being out of air while devouring you, he couldn’t help but want to experience it again. Softly, he lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, giving himself better access to your glistening hole and folds.

“Wait, husk I-“ you begin after realizing the change in position but you were promptly cut off as husk begin to lap at your essence directly from the source.

"You deserve this, my love," he whispered, his voice hoarse with lust. "I want to make you feel good, as much as you've made me feel supported."

With renewed vigor, Husk dove in once more, his tongue tracing familiar paths and exploring new ones. Your breath jiggered, and your back arched as he took you on another sensual journey that started in overstimulation. His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers digging into your skin, taking full control—you couldn’t run even if you want to.

He aims directly at your weak spot, and way he was sucking at your clit was just driving you absolutely mad. You gripped at his head, still unsure if you wanted to pull him away or bring him closer. He was precise and targeting but there was some hungry sloppiness to his technique.

As your second climax approached, Husk could feel your body tense, and he knew that he was about to witness something truly beautiful once more. Your cries of pleasure grew louder, and just as promised, the way your body convulsed and your face contorted was marvellous, what was not expected but still welcome was the fact that you had squirted, causing your arousal to coat his face and chest.

His eyes widened in awe, and he couldn't help but smirk at the sight. "Damn, you're something else." he said, his voice filled with want but also a little teasing tone to it.

Even as you settled back onto the bed flat, Husk couldn't shake off the image of squirting. His eyes locked on your glistening skin, and he knew that he wanted to see it again. His hand travel to your face, thumb brushing lips sensually, a longing look in his eyes "One more, my love," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "I want to taste you again and see that beauty of yours unfold once more."

With a hunger that rivalled the one he had when bringing you to your first two climaxes, Husk dove in for the third time, his tongue seeking out your sensitive spots.

He craved the taste of your essence, the sound of your cries, and the sight of your strong release. You soon begin to trembled beneath him, quicker than previously but it was understandable, two orgasm in a row was about to make extra sensitive.

“Ah, fuck, Husk, it's too much!” You cried out in overstimulation.

“Shh, it's okay, baby, I know you can handle it,” he reassured, softly stroking the underside of your right thigh to offer comfort before getting his strong grip back on it.

As Husk continued to stimulate you, drawing you closer to nirvana, you found yourself liberated from all worries. In that moment, there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

As your third orgasm of the night peaked, you let out a final cry, your body convulsing with overwhelming euphoria. Once more, you squirted, coating Husk's face with your essence. This time, however, he caught most of your fluid in his moth and swallowed them, and the drops that didn’t make, he licked them off of you, his eyes close for an instances as he savoured your liquid arousal, then his eyes locked back on you.

"Oh, Husk," you breathed, your voice ragged with pleasure and emotion. "That was incredible."

He wiped the remaining droplets from his face with a satisfied grin and licked at it to make sure he gotten everything, his eyes never leaving yours. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said, his voice filled with love and satisfaction.

As you lay there, breathless and spent, Husk pulled you into his arms, his heart beating in his chest. Regaining back some of your sense, this scenery confused you a bit:

“What about you?” You inquired as he had yet to get release himself.

“Honestly the emotions and the time I spent between those sexy thighs of yours got me to tired to want anything more than to cuddle you right now.” he admired with a tired smile, which made giggle.

Your bodies still entwined, Husk leaned in and pressed his lips gently against yours. The kiss was soft, filled with love and appreciation, and it left you both feeling even more connected than before. Right here and there, you knew that despite the challenges you faced further down the road, you were in this together.

Slowly, Husk wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The warmth of his embrace enveloped you, and you felt safe and loved in his arms. "Thank you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "The cuddling, reassuring words, and this; they really help me calm down and feel better. I know I can rely on you when you do these things, and I strongly hope you can on me."

You nestled your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Of course I do, and don’t forget—I'll always be here for you, Husk," you promised, your voice filled with reassurance. "No matter what comes our way, I'll have your back, just like you do for me."

As the two cuddled and basking in the afterglow of your shared euphoria, you knew that your bond had grown stronger. Nothing could bother the two of you right now—except perhaps the fact that you would have to get up to bathe and change the sheets soon, but that was a problem for the ‘30 minutes to one hour future yous.’

Thanks anons for requesting!

©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize.

Tip Me (Ko-Fi) & And support my art account @maviscarlettie

You can now commission me!

Likes & Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)

#tswhiisftteedr #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk hazbin hotel #husk smut #husk x you #husk x y/n

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f4ggydog · 3 months ago

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Hi Milooo, I was thinking about a dynamic between Charlotte and a Psychiatrist or a nurse (in the psycho ward); I didn’t saw anyone taking that plot, soooo, I leave the idea in case you want to write a new plot 😛😛

I can take the “🩷” anon? :3

hello heart anon I’m off of my burnout a little bit so I’m back to writing a little bit (though I’d still advise holding off on requests since I’ve still got a bunch to do) (also sorry this took so long I genuinely took my time with it!! it took a couple of days)

“charlotte?” you knock on the door gently. “charlotte? is it alright if I come in? it’s me.”

lottie springs out of her bed and immediately calls your name to invite you in. you’re the highlight of her day, her only source of sunshine in such a dreary and depressing place. she missed you the second after you left the room. she missed you after a millisecond break from an hour long conversation. she missed you like you were on your death bed. fuck, she couldn’t fathom being without you any longer.

“darling, darling.” lottie claps her hands together. “oh, it’s so good to see you. oh, it’s so fantastic to see you! tell me, how have you been keeping?”

“um i’ve been okay charlotte,” you say nervously. “please remember what I told you about refraining from calling me any informal names. please, it’s doctor (l/n.)”

“oh but of course!” lottie chuckles and takes a slight bow. “my apologies. I didn’t mean to come off as so rude. you know, I just feel like we bond pretty well doctor. you and me, we’re like friends already.”

“sure thing charlotte,” you reply with a smile. “whatever you say. um anyways, how have you been feeling? have you been doing any better?"

"oh, yes! much better. I couldn't be more at peace. you know, I didn't think I'd come to enjoy this facility but you do such a great job honestly."

"that's wonderful, charlotte. tell me, have you been experiencing any magical thinking lately? any delusions? seeing or hearing things that aren't actually there? anything along those lines?"

lottie gulps but then forces out a tender smile.

"everything has been just fine and dandy, doctor. I wouldn't worry too much. I know what got me into this joint in the first place, but nothing of that sort has been happening."

charlotte knows she's fibbing. and she's hoping you won't call her bluff. believe her. just believe her. what's the worst that could happen?

"right...right, if you say so. i still don’t know if it would be best to let you out yet, considering the incidents that got you into here.”

charlotte already dreads thinking about the past, about her retreat she had to leave behind. she wonders if any of her former teammates miss her, if they’re thinking about her, if they realize how important she is to the group. oh well, there’s no time to fret about that. at least charlotte has you as more than adequate company.

as the days go on though, it seems lottie gets even more clingy than before. she makes up excuses to get you to ask her more questions and to stay with lottie longer. she sometimes follows you around without your knowledge, needing to know exactly where you are at all times. you’re beyond irresistible. how was charlotte supposed to ignore her dream person, her potential soulmate?

it was written in the cards. you two were meant to be together. it was destiny for you to meet like that.

so lottie devises a plan. when you stop by her room to check on her again, she snatches you by the wrist. okay, it’s not a well thought plan. it’s hardly a plan. but it’s a start. it’s just an easy way for charlotte to stake her claim on you so that you didn’t get any funny ideas. the funny ideas in question were a mystery. but charlotte could hardly produce coherent thoughts and plans when you were around. it totally wasn’t her fault.

“charlotte,” you say blandly. “what are you doing? i have to go see other patients.”

“wait, wait. j-just give me a moment. there’s no rush. i’m sure you’ve got all the time in the world, doctor (l/n).”

“do you need me to bring you something?” you ask with slight concern. lottie dismisses your question with a wave of her hand.

“please, please. there’s no need to chase me out suddenly. i-i know you might be nervous…you’ve probably heard my story.”

lottie inches closer.

“but there’s nothing to fear. it’s just me. you and i…i think we have a purpose together. our connection together is unlike anything i’ve ever had with any authority figure.”

you’re creeped out, but a part of your body tells you to keep listening.

“i feel so close to you, even though we haven’t known each other for that long. i feel like you’ve been there for me my entire life. tell me doctor, do I know you from a past life?”

“charlotte, i think it’s time you went to bed.”

“nonsense.” lottie drags you onto the facility bed and sits next to you. “i have so much more to learn about you. i know there’s more than what you give me on the surface. you’re beyond fascinating, doctor. please, don’t spare me any details.”

“charlotte, i’ll have you know i plan for this to be nothing but a strictly professional relationship.”

“i won’t get you fired.” charlotte cups your chin. “it’ll be our little secret. none of the facility staff have to know anything.”

your eyes widen like you’ve seen a ghost. you try to push past her to move out of her away, but charlotte’s grip is surprisingly strong for a lady close to middle age. nothing makes sense. suddenly, you question if this was the right career choice for you. of course you want to help. you wouldn’t have considered this job in the first place otherwise. but you’re uncertain if you could deal with a patient that’s wildly obsessed with you.

but you still wish to sympathize with charlotte. you know she’s not well. she probably doesn’t mean harm, only wants to connect with you deeper because she’s never met an authority figure that’s respected her this much. you were different. you had to be.

“let me in,” charlotte urges. “let me in. you don’t have to put up societal walls around me.”

was it really worth it to potentially lose your job over a kiss from charlotte? or something worse? god, you hope it wouldn’t evolve into anything sexual.

“you won’t get away from me that easily,” charlotte whispers, hot breath hovering your neck. “you can push me away all you want. but i’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

“i’m telling them to prolong your visit,” you murmur. but you instantly regret the words that leave your mouth. it comes off as a threat when you just desperately want charlotte to get well again.

“do it.” charlotte smiles, taking no offense. “just means i’ll be getting more time with you.”

you expect charlotte to get up and leave, believing her confession will be the end of tonight’s conversation. but she’s waiting for something else.

“you didn’t give me my kiss yet,” charlotte hums.

“charlotte, you’re my patient. i will not initiate that sort of contact with you.”

“then i will,” charlotte asserts. and before you can protest, her lips crash into yours.

(Let me know if i should write more of this. it was genuinely kinda fun)

#yellowjackets #lottie matthews #lottie yellowjackets #lottie matthews x reader #lottie matthews x you #lottie matthews thoughts 💭#yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets fanfiction #yellowjackets fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

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leftoverbriocheloaf · 3 months ago

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10 for the ask game :D

Oh lord ok for context I am an asexual who thinks one-night stands as plot devices are really underutilized in comedy and genuinely doesnt understand sexual attraction so

I just wanted a funny hijinks fic and I think Poe and Chuuya would be really good friends and complain about their very smart but frustrating detective bfs but I had no idea how they would meet and I was like what if they were drunk lmao and then this fic was born NO JUDGING

_______

Poe’s first coherent thought, beyond ‘Ow,’ is ‘I am never drinking again.’

It's not that he's unfamiliar with hangovers, but he can definitely say it's been a while. This is probably his first since college. More tired than he’s felt in years, Poe slaps his hand over his eyes, trying to block out the light from his windows that are usually never open. He shifts, barely, and the bed dips– more than it would if Karl had decided to jump on it, unless Karl had multiplied in size that night. He looks over and meets blue eyes that look just as disoriented as he feels.

His third thought of the morning is:

'God, I am never drinking again.'

***

“So–” Nakahara fucking Chuuya, because apparently Poe really knows how to pick them, grimaces, “We aren’t ever going to speak about this again, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Poe agrees, his head in his hands.

“I don’t fuckin’ remember anything anyway,” Nakahara snorts. “Can’t believe I nabbed a damn Guild member though. Hope this isn’t treason.”

“I’m not a member of the Guild anymore,” Poe responds absentmindedly. “And frankly, that makes two of us. I can’t remember a thing.”

“Wait–” Nakahara raises an eyebrow, his tone curious. “You’re a part of the agency then?”

Poe huffs a laugh, shaking his head, “No. I tried to kill them– I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t give me an offer after that.”

“We have that in common, then.”

Poe turns to Nakahara, about to question, before, “Oh. Mafia.”

He stops. Blinks.

“You’re an executive in the mafia.”

“Wanna fuckin’ shout it from the window next?”

“No, I– Sorry,” he frowns when Nakahara crosses his arms, the redhead's expression amused. “This is simply… not great for my civilian cover. Probably.”

“Your raccoon isn’t great for your civilian cover.”

“Karl is very polite–” Poe argues quickly, before, “Shit. Where’s Karl?”

It’s more of a question to himself, because Karl has a habit of knowing exactly when Poe wakes no matter the day and showing up immediately. If Poe doesn’t wake up fast enough, Karl will usually take the initiative to wake him up himself.

Anyway, he does not expect Nakahara to sigh.

He also does not expect Nakahara’s hair to be long enough to hide an entire raccoon.

“Lil’ fucker won’t leave,” he explains like this is an annoying, but not a particularly interesting, occurrence. Poe just stares. “No clue how he got there though.”

Poe blinks absently, his rational brain apparently deciding to take a long vacation, and altogether gives up on trying to piece together the situation. “And you weren’t bringing it up because…?”

Nakahara's cheeks turn pink, “He’s comfy. Not a big deal.”

“How long as he–”

“Dunno.”

Poe almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. Instead, he breathes deeply before moving to stand.

“Well, I’m going to, um,” he motions for the door awkwardly, “Get Karl some food. Do you want... coffee or something?” What the hell is the procedure for this?

Nakahara takes a moment to think about the question, but then winces, “I’ll pass. I should probably leave, actually.”

Poe nods robotically as he leaves the room, thanking any deities out there that Karl removes himself from Nakahara without Poe having to intervene. He remains entirely silent as he slices a few pieces of fruit for the raccoon, who accepts them gladly, and then Nakahara steps into the kitchen.

“I’m gonna– uh, head out.”

Poe gives a thumbs up, and then seriously considers jumping out the window because what the hell? And then, because he’s the pinnacle of extrovertedness, he adds, “Thanks for– um– coming, Nakahara-san.”

Kill him.

Nakahara blinks, then nods in what Poe recognizes as an attempt to hide his growing amusement.

“Just Chuuya is fine,” he waves behind him as he opens the door, “And yeah, bye Edgar.”

The door shuts, and Karl looks at Poe like it's his fault his new best friend just left. Whatever, Karl. Poe is already regretting his decisions in life, he doesn’t need a raccoon pouting at him too. He sighs.

Damn, now he feels bad.

He gives Karl another piece as an apology, despite the fact that he has not voiced a single one of his thoughts aloud.

Then, Poe goes back to bed.

_______

I have no idea if this au is funnier before or after Poe and Ranpo lock Chuuya in a book but I just think they'd be good friends and it would be really funny if sometime later in the plot they try to help each other with their respective love lives and Dazai and Ranpo are like how the hell do you know each other

I actually have a scene following this where after the events of the vampire incident there's a group meeting between the Guild (Poe is there bc he was helping Ranpo during the fight) the ADA and the Port Mafia and Karl is so excited to see Chuuya that Fukazawa is like "ah do you... know each other?" and Poe says "we've met" really quickly and awkwardly while Chuuya tries not to die laughing

#bungou stray dogs #fanfiction #ranpoe #skk #bsd chuuya #bsd poe #my wips #wip ask game #this isnt really meant to be chuuya and poe but ig you could see it that way? idk #but idk what possessed me to write this #definitely leaning towards Poe's anxiety being awkward and not shy idk if that makes sense #bungou gay dogs

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shadowlinktheshadow · 1 month ago

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hello hi I am here to ask about the Shadow and Green thing hehe

um. 💀 well first problem is that that green doodle was done at 11 or so at night so I did that on a whim 💀💀

second is I remember what I was thinking of at the time but im not sure if I can explain it well 💀💀💀

ANYWAYS

rereading the four swords manga over and over, Green has started to grow on me as a character and I REALLY wish he had more screentime

sure, he got the whole desert temple to himself, the one to meet tingle, the one to fight Vio...

but especially at the end? I feel like hes a little forgotten. it gets a little iffy after the encounter in the dark forest (which. cant blame them. theyre writing off of canon) and with the whole shadow fight the attention is really on Shadow and Vio I feel

so ive been juggling an idea that what if Green had been the one to he launched into the dark forest with Shadow?

(tbf if he did people would complain that he had TOO MUCH screentime but. im a sucker for him so too bad >:) )

my main point for this is that I feel like Green and Shadow relate harder to "Link"

the reason for Shadow and Vio to have gotten together was that Vio was "different". Shadow saw Vio as independent and smart and wanted to exploit that. (I dont know what im sayingg) but its kinda surface level. "you're different. im different. let's hang"

but for Green and Shadow it's the same thing but with a new factor; Link.

im sorry to say as a Green fan now, but when I first read the book I was a "Green is just Link lol" believer (IM SORRY) I honestly thought he had no purpose besides being their guiding force for rescuing Zelda and driving the story forward 💀

there was a point that really changed my view (cant remember who) but their post made me start thinking of the responsibilities of carrying the color "green". he said himself in the manga, "I'm wearing green so im the leader! (IM the closest to Link!!)" but there's no way he didnt carry even a bit of pressure, a bit of worry in himself

because he WASNT Link.

just 1/4 of the real deal, a fragment of the original, a copy.

and for me, Shadow is the same deal. he was the reflection of Link, his Shadow. the same carbon copy and yet a whole another person at the same time.

that frustration. that sadness and anger at yourself for not being someone who is EXACTLY LIKE YOU. the person who everyone thinks you are. WHO YOU WANT TO BE.

if Green was trapped with Shadow, I dont think he'd have Vio's wit to immediately think of a plan that had a 50/50 chance of actually succeeding on the spot, so I think itd be more of Shadow weakening him. projecting his own thoughts onto Green, to make him feel the same pain. maybe Green already feels that way? then maybe to bubble up those emotions.

(im rereading this over (I wrote this first thing in the morning. its 10 pm now) and uh. I dont know what im talking about I hope this comes across at least a little coherently 💀💀💀)

#yeah sorry I dont know what im talking about 💀#take this half boiled idea 💔#it was much clearer last night when I was thinking of it #REALLY need to draw more greenv.. mm...#and blue. And red #(ive been neglecting them when I was on my Vio and shadow roll 💀)#vio answers #long post #sorry. 💀#four swords manga #green link #character analysis #k.kinda??

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lizardsmp3 · 2 months ago

Note

would you ever consider posting like a speed paint or a breakdown of your art process? I am new to digital art and feeling like I’m doing something fundamentally Wrong somewhere in the process. it would be interesting to see regardless :3 “whatever happened to hello?” YES CORRECT hello I LOVE your art hope you’re having a good day!!!

FIRST OF ALL sorry this took so long to answer and you are so sweet ty!! also i promise however & whatever youre doing theres no real wrong or right way as cliche as it sounds genuinely it is just about finding a method that works for you! & having brushes you like helps a LOT– i use procreate and. okay i genuinely cannot find the link for the brush i use for sketching & lines ive been looking forever. it's called thick watercolor and i got it for free but i just for the life of me have no idea where the download link went? it haunts me ;( for coloring tho ok genuinely forever i just used the default procreate round brush but of late ive been really into the smooth brush in this gouache set i think its lovely it is, true to name, SO smooth i love it ^_^ ok continued under the cut i dont want this to be too long or anything. i will yap tho! disclaimer that i am in no way god's expert on art or anything this is just my method in this world

to be honest i thumbnail half my shit in my fucking notes app of all places and its absolutely incomprehensible. ok the example im gonna use here will be my end of tit art bc i took a lot of screenshots in the middle of the process bc i was going thru a lot with the colors. so first off heres my thumbnail LMAOOOO

one day i'll just show you guys all the nonsense in my notes app thats only coherent to me. theres a lot of just like scribbly smooches i doodle whenever im down to be so honest. ANYWAY! ok here's the speedpaint forgive that i had to cut out the middle a little bit because um i draw a billion things on the same canvas all the time so i had like detours in the middle of this. and enjoy the soundtrack i have provided you (it is of course legendary danandphilbeats banger it hits different.)

(here's the absolute state of the full canvas. yeah sorry the detour in question was the sister daniel/father philip image. jordan laddersmp3 always yells at me for drawing so many things on the same canvas but what can i say i have a sickness. i have a lot that are far more cluttered than this)

umm but basically my usual order is slapping my thumbnail into procreate (not that i dont sketch in procreate sometimes but idk. smthn abt my notes app feels less serious so i conceptualize things more in there) and then drawing over it with my sketch/lineart brush- and frankly i dont really have the patience for lineart so mostly the things i draw are just cleaned-up sketches. never let anyone tell you that you have to do lineart. theyre lying. do whatever the fuck you want forever <3 here's the sketch and then just the cleaner kinda-lineart-kinda-sketch

and then i set the sketch layer to multiply- you can fiddle with other blend modes, sometimes linear burn matches the vibe better, or if youre the kinda person who Does like to do solid lineart obvs you can leave it normal- and slap down some like base colors on a layer under it for what i want the color scheme to be and like where i want the light a lil bit!

(the color scheme for this one was of course heavily referenced from this lovely picture from the wonderful nora, because it made me really emo and also had the perfect palette)

from there it's just a matter of me making a billion new layers to like refine the details & color (which also not that you cant paint all on the same layer but that scares me idk im always afraid to fuck up smthn i like so.) i definitely try to color like separate parts/people/objects on separate layers just in case. (though i always draw dnp on the same layer #donotseparate etc) oh i totally cheated dans shirt here by painting it on a layer and just turning that layer's opacity down til i was like yeah ok that looks transparent. work smarter not harder. also i do not name my layers and am a mess with them. that is okay.

and then i like to do a layer thats over the lineart where i can add little scribbles on top of the drawing- like little highlights and stuff, which is one of my favorite things to add to drawings :] (and also i put a clipping mask on the lineart to recolor it a little so i can lighten up areas of it and soften up the feel if needed!)

& then sometimes, like with this one, i like to add a veeeeryyyy slight chromatic aberration, just to add a bit of dimension, so i merged all the background color layers together separately from the body layers (with the exception of the confetti, which was on its own layer, & obvs my little highlights) and did likeeee i think a 2% chromatic aberration on the bodies and maybe 3% on the bg just to add a lil more color in there. i just like how it looks idk. i moved the center of it to dnp of course

(i also had a lil motion blur on the confetti ^_^!)

can i admit something actually i always get scared of leaving effects i cant undo like chromatic aberration or blurs of any kind so i literally always undo them after i save the image to post. im insane like that bc im always like what if i wanna edit the image later. u never know. etc etc. <- i have FEARS what can i say. but ummm yeagh thats basically it hope u enjoyed this look into Amelia's Artistic Process!

also sidebar i do not always rawdog color schemes slash use photo refs sometimes if a color scheme is just not coming together the way i want it to i'll make use of a gradient map turned up to whatever percent feels right in the moment (usually honestly like 10% max unless the vibes want more, like, its just veeery slight to unify the color scheme a bit). genuinely i do like the default procreate gradient maps- i like warm colors a lot so im fond of blaze and venice- tho ive also made a couple of my own ^_^ i didn't use one with this here cause i liked the colors but yeah if i hate the colors just that slight correction always helps make it feel more cohesive <3 also there's always the option of making a layer on top of everything that's just a solid color and setting the blend mode to “color” and fiddling with the opacity until you get what you like, which is what i did with the redraw of the selfie with sarah so it was more nicely orangey :] literally i just do whatever half the time! which is maybe not the best tutorial or anything but well! what can i say

and yeah that's it basically!! ty anon ly bb ^_<

#thank u for coming to. whatever the hell this was. sorry if im incomprehensible a little :']#at the end of the day my artistic process is literally just ummm fuck around until shit looks okay. pick a god and pray. etc #and we get there eventually! so something's working somewhere along the way idk amen!#also like idk if anyone REALLY wants my sketch/line brush i do have the file like IN my files i could like email it to you or something idk #but yknow. shrug. maybe someone else will find where the source of it went. power of the internet and all #ask

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braveclementine · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 2

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

The walk from your apartment building to the Avengers HQ was a good thirty minute walk. On a good day, it would've been pleasant, the kind of walk you might've made daily if you'd had a dog. However, wearing the sweatshirt again with the nerves made it feel like you had been walking for hours.

You swallowed the lump in your throat as you stood at the gate with the intercom thing-a-ma-bobber before pressing it with a shaky finger.

You weren't entirely sure why you were so nervous. There was no crime for bumping into people. . . but when it was a King, much less the King of Wakanda, well perhaps it was good sense to be nervous.

"How may I help you?" A bored, female voice said on the other side.

"Hi, I was hoping to talk to the King of Wakanda." Your voice, at least, didn't sound shaky.

The voice on the other side snorted, "Yeah, sure."

"I'm the girl that bumped into him earlier." You said, embarrassed. "I just wanted to er, apologize to him was all."

There was a bit of silence before the female voice said, "I'll let him know. Have a fantastic day."

You blinked. Well, at least he would know that I had attempted to apologize. Some of the nerves dissipated as you turned to walk back to the apartment.

Having only walked a few feet though, you heard a voice call behind you, "Excuse me!"

You turned slowly and then flushed dark when you saw the King standing there.

He was wearing very standard clothing. A black button up shirt with black slacks and black dress shoes.

"Aren't you hot?" You blurted out. The blush went darker. "I mean, hot in your clothing. I mean cause it's summer. You know what, just completely ignore what I just asked."

The King actually smiled, his white teeth almost blinding against his darker skin. "You forget I am used to African climate. Much hotter than this."

Oh. His accent. Oh my God.

You swallowed again and then you said, "I just wanted to apologize. I forgot about work and I was rushing to get to work and I bumped into you and I just spat out an apology and I had no idea that you were the King of Wakanda-"

"Breathe." He said with a light chuckle that almost made you die inside. "It's quite alright. I understand."

Every nerve dissipated. You nodded awkwardly.

"I never got your name." He said, tilting his head.

"Oh, I'm Y/N." You said quickly, not sure if you should hold your hand out. You saw his left hand twitch slightly and he held out his hand, "T'Challa."

"Ouch." You yelped before shaking his hand. You'd felt a sharp pain in your left wrist. It was like backing into a table corner. It didn't really hurt, but you felt like saying 'ouch' anyways.

You blushed, "Sorry, I had a pain."

"I thought you might." He said with a small smile.

You stared at him blankly. He rolled up his sleeve which had a singular colour there. You noticed that it was [Periwinkle/Turquoise/Jade] line. You barely even realized that it was the same colour as the one on your right wrist- a.k.a your favorite colour.

He stepped closer, showing you the name that had been branded into his skin: Y/N.

Of course. After you met your soulmate their name was matched with their colour. You just hadn't realized that it hurt.

Then you realized something.

Your soulmate was the freaking King of Wakanda.

You weren't entirely sure what the correct reaction to the information was. Faint? Squeal? Run away screaming?

Somehow, you just stayed frozen, staring at your name on his wrist.

"Are you alright. . . Y/N?" T'Challa asked.

You licked your lips, trying to form a coherent response. "I- but you're a King."

T'Challa chuckled again, "That I am. Which will make you my Queen."

You blushed again and then said awkwardly, "I'm afraid that you're going to have to um, share me with quite a few people." As you spoke, you pulled up your sleeve to show the eleven brands. The eighth line of purple and black now had the name T'Challa imprinted there.

T'Challa took in the ten other lines and chuckled, "So I will. I recognize your name now, from the record book. Of course, only your baby picture is in there."

"That's a good thing." You muttered.

"Follow me. I'd like to introduce you to my sister Shuri." T'Challa said with a smile.

You nodded, slightly surprised as he put his elbow out. You hooked your hand around his elbow like you had done this before, and let him lead you into the compound.

"Did the attendant behind the intercom let you know I was out here?" You asked curiously.

"Sharon? No. I was walking along the grounds. Tony has a good selection of botany here. I thought I recognized your figure and I was curious about what you were doing here so I came to inquire." He said with a smile.

We entered the Avengers compound and you took a look around. There were two women there, both dark skinned and bald. One, the taller of the two, narrowed her eyes at you. "What is-"

"This is my soulmate, Y/N Y/L/N." T'Challa introduced me. "Y/N, this is Okoye, my personal guard and friend."

There was a slightly shorter girl there with a head of hair who bounced up onto her feet, rushing to hug me. Slightly taken aback, it took me a moment to hug her back.

"Hi! I'm Shuri. You're beautiful." She said, pulling back.

"Y-You're stunning." You stuttered.

"Whose this?" A new voice, male, asked. You looked over to see the Tony Stark strolling along the floor like he owned- oh wait.

"Mr. Stark." T'Challa said genuinely.

"I'm Y/N." You introduced, sticking your hand out on a whim. No idea where you got the courage to do so, even more surprised when Tony actually shook your hand.

"Tony Stark naturally." He said easily but you felt another prick on your left arm. You fought the urge to look down. He was wearing long sleeves as well, so you had no idea if he had felt the prick. Probably, right?

You both stared at each other as you both lowered your hands. Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it was an after effect of T'Challa's bond.

Tony's eyes shifted to T'Challa as he swiped his glasses off, putting them in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "Everyone's upstairs. We're just waiting for Thor and Loki."

You blushed. There must be some sort of meeting. You certainly didn't want to intrude.

"How about we bring Y/N along here to introduce her to the rest of the crew?" Tony asked.

"Y/N?" T'Challa asked.

You were startled, "Oh, but I couldn't possibly!"

"Nonsense." Tony said, putting an arm over your shoulder. "You're clearly my soulmate, unless you didn't feel a prick in your left arm. It's only fair to introduce you to the group."

"Oh?" T'Challa asked in surprise, "You as well?"

Tony turned to look at him, "Pardon?"

You quickly rolled your sleeve up. Indeed, Tony was there on the red and gold line. Tony looked at the several lines and then whistled, "Well, aren't you a hot commodity? Definitely need to introduce you now, pretty sure that's Capsicle's line." He said, pointing to the red, white, and blue line.

Was he right? Was it really Captain America's line? How many of your soulmates were going to be the Avengers?

"Shall we?" Tony asked, quirking a brow.

Well, at least they were all hot, right?

T'Challa gave you his elbow again which you took, while Tony was slightly more possessive, taking your hand into his.

"FRIDAY, floor 47." Tony announced as we stepped into the elevator.

"Yes Mr. Stark. Miss Y/L/N doesn't have clearance however." An automated, slightly Irish sounding female voice said from. . .the speakers? The air? It kind've sounded like it was all around us.

"Override it. Miss Y/L/N can go wherever she pleases in the building, including the lab."

"You don't let anyone in the lab, not even Stephen." T'Challa said as the elevator started to move with a 'yes sir'.

"Well Stephen would break everything, but I think my soulmate right here will be quite good. Small hands." Tony said, squeezing your hand a little.

You slightly blushed. This was starting to be a bit overwhelming for you, but neither of them seemed fazed at all.

"H-How are you taking this so. . . easily?" You questioned.

"We're used to weird sweetheart." Tony dropped. "You've got eleven soulmates and we just happen to be them. At least there's no time travel or aliens involved." He paused and then questioned, "You're not an alien are you?"

"No." You said quickly. "I'm. . . average except the eleven soulmates."

"I wouldn't say average." Tony said with a nonchalant shrug, "You're quite stunning."

You blushed again.

"I was going to say gorgeous." T'Challa said in a low, husky voice that sent shivers over your spine. Exactly how long would they take to marry you? Because there was a hell of a lot of sexual tension in this extremely small box.

The bell dinged, the doors sliding open. Tony led us down the hallway at this point, pulling open one of the double doors and the three of us stepped through.

Several famous faces stared back at us and you shrank slightly into T'Challa's side.

"Whose this?" The blond man you knew was Steve Rogers asked Tony.

"Well, go on sweetheart, introduce yourself." Tony said with a smirk. You wondered just how many of the people in the room Tony suspected were your soulmates.

"Hi. I'm Y/N." You said quietly.

Five of them jerked their left arms slightly.

Steve, James Barnes, and one of the other African American men exchanged looks. You weren't entirely sure if that was Sam or James Rhodey.

Steve was the first to move, holding out his hand, "I'm Steve Rogers."

You shook it, ignoring the sting in your left arm. You'd left your jacket off, showing the eleven marks. Steve's name slowly filling in on the red, white, and blue one. Tony smirked.

"Bucky." He said. His metal arm was black and gold, but he held out his flesh hand which you shook quickly.

"Sam." The man that you hadn't been quite sure you were said next. Another sting.

"And I'm James." Another African American man stepped forward to shake your hand. "But my friends called me Rhodey."

"I'm Clint." The famous archer said, shaking your hand. Another sting.

"Natasha." The red head assassin said, holding hands with Bruce Banner.

"Bruce." He said with nod of his head.

"I'm Peter. Peter Parker." The youngest one of them said. I almost waited, cringing, for another stab of pain, but nothing happened.

"I'm Wanda, this is Vision." Another red head, slightly brighter said. The robot that was standing behind her had his arm wrapped around her waist. He settled down into a more human appearance.

"Hey I'm Scott, also known as Antman." One of the last guys with a grin said.

"Hope." The female next to him rolled her eyes.

"And I'm Maria Hill." The last person in the room said.

"Nice to meet all of you." I said quietly.

"How many lines do you have left?" Tony enquired.

"Four." I said. I showed him my arm.

"Hmm, well high probability that the gold and green is Loki. He doesn't wear anything else." Tony speculated.

"Loki?" Steve asked with slight distaste and a little bit of a frown.

"I already know the green and blue is Stephen Strange because it matches mine." Tony said, not sounding at all displeased about sharing his soulmate with You. "But the black and the gold, I have no idea."

Suddenly, the doors opened up behind us again. You pressed back into T'Challa's front as a rather intimidating man with an eyepatch entered the room. He greeted Maria Hill softly first, his one eye roving to land on You.

"And who are you?"

"Y/N Y/L/N sir." You said quickly.

There was a slight flicker as his eye moved between Maria and yourself before moving forward to shake your hand, "Nick Fury."

Another stab of pain as you shook his hand firmly. His eye flickered down to your arm, seeing his name on his arm and the multitude of colours there. "Well, aren't you special?"

Was that an insult?

He let go of your hand, motioning to Maria Hill, "This is my other soulmate."

I nodded but didn't have to say anything as Sam asked, "You and Fury? Did not see that one happening."

"Should've placed bets." Clint and Scott said at the same time.

"Guess it makes sense pure black would be Fury." Tony said nonchalantly.

Suddenly, there was a large crash of lightning and thunder outside.

"Damn, he still did it on the lawn." Tony muttered.

You were still rather stressed, feeling completely out of place at the meeting, despite nearly half of the occupants being soulmates. You weren't entirely sure if you were cursed or blessed at this point.

"Point Break." Tony barked to the tall, short brown-haired man that entered, "What have I told you about creating bifrost crop circles on my lawn?"

"My apologies tin man." Thor said in a loud, booming voice, flashing me a huge smile, "I got so excited when Heimdall revealed that our soulmate was here, I temporarily forgot."

My eyes flickered to the just as tall, polar opposite behind Thor. Loki, god of Mischief. Eyes blue as the ocean, wavy black hair neatly falling on his shoulders. He was wearing a black suit without a hint of the gold and green that showed in his colour band.

"Our?" Steve questioned behind me.

"Loki and mine!" Thor said, his voice still loud as he strode forward, "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Princess, I am Thor God of Thunder."

He kissed your forehead and both cheeks, leaving you red as a tomato before you managed to say, "Y-Yes pleasure to m-meet you. I'm Y/N."

Loki stepped forward with more eloquence and grace, taking your hand to kiss the back of your knuckles, blue eyes never leaving your E/C ones before he said in a quiet voice that sounded a whisper to his brother, "I am Loki, my Queen."

It was so overwhelming as he stepped back and you just stood there. You had only one soulmate left to meet.

Stephen Strange. Dr. Strange.

You didn't know much about him, other than he lived in New York and had helped save the world. Oh and that he had discovered something called the multiverse. But yeah, other than that, you knew nothing about him. You weren't even entirely sure you'd be able to pick him out on the street unlike the others. Unless, of course, he was wearing his infamous robes.

As if called by your thoughts, an orange portal opened up behind Tony, a tall, extremely handsome man stepping out followed by a slightly shorter Asian man, perhaps of Chinese ethnicity, though you weren't certain. Perhaps Tibet?

The man You were sure was Stephen Strange placed a rather sweet kiss on the top of Tony's head before introducing himself to You. The familiar sting took place and You told him your name.

"Well, with introductions out of the way, doesn't change the fact you don't really have clearance for the following conversation. Neither do you Mr. Parker. So-"

"But sir." Peter complained.

"Yeah, right, of course. I should go home anyways." You said quickly. "My sister is probably wondering where I am."

"Parker, please accompany her home." Fury said with no room for arguing.

Peter followed You from the room and once you were in the elevator, you nearly collapsed. You hadn't realized just how tight and uncomfortable you had been until now.

"You alright?" Peter asked with obvious concern.

"Just stressed. That was stressful. I've gone so long without a single soulmate and suddenly they're all dropped on me. And not only do I meet all of them in one day in less than an hour, but they're Gods and Super soldiers and magicians and billionaires and spies! I mean, how is this possible?" I asked.

"It makes sense." Peter said simply. "They're all like family and they're all missing a piece of themselves. You're that."

"I thought some of them already had their soulmates." You questioned.

"Sure. Mr. Fury has Agent Hill and Agent Hill has Mr. Fury and Agent Coulson. But Mr. Fury's also had a band for the past [18-30] years, saying he had another soulmate. Mr. Stark and Mr. Strange as well. Not to mention Mr. Rogers, Mr. Barnes, and Sam, though they're all together, they've had a band missing. And the others just haven't had one period."

You mulled that over for a moment. "It's so. . . interesting the way it works."

"Oh yeah, You should hear Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner talk about soulmate bonds. Real sciency stuff. But yeah, I got two soulmates. One's name is MJ and the other's name is Ned. I think the only one out of us all that doesn't have a soulmate is Pietro."

"Pietro. Who is that?" I questioned.

"Oh, he's Wanda's twin brother." Peter answered as we started our walk out of the Avengers compound. "He's got three bands, but he's never met any of his soulmates. But he spends a lot of time in Sokovia instead of with us."

"I thought. . . I thought he died?" You asked carefully, not wanting to bring up an insensitive topic.

"When Dr. Banner snapped everyone back, he brought back Avenger members too. That's how Natasha, Coulson, and Pietro came back. And then Captain Marvel snapped to killed Thanos and that was that."

"Interesting." Was all you could muster to say.

"Say, I could swing us to your apartment." Peter said excitedly. "We'd get there so much faster."

"Um, sure?"

What could go wrong?

*A fEw MoMeNtS lAtEr*

I'm going to die. I'm literally going to die.

You had shut off your voice so you didn't scream as you clutched tightly around Peter's neck as he swung through the city.

Sure, it hadn't been to bad when he'd first started going, but now that you were high about these skyscrapers and there wasn't even a seatbelt- well you were starting to feel a little more anxious.

Finally, Peter landed in front of your apartment building. There weren't to many people around. "See you around Y/N." He said, waving slightly before taking back into the air.

You hurried into the apartment and then made your way upstairs, opening the apartment door and stepping inside.

You sunk down with your back to the door, wondering what your reaction was going to be. Cry? Or laugh?

The apartment was silent as you closed your eyes, thinking of the head spinning day you'd had.

"Where the hell have you been?"

You screamed.

⬅️➡️

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