#why did such an important chapter drop at such a busy time for me lmao | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shanastoryteller · 4 years ago

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Questions about outlines: How detailed are they? Are they the same level of detail or do they vary? How do you make your outlines? Chronologically scene by scene? Or do you come up with the scenes that call you and then come up with smaller filler scenes to fill in the gaps? Do you have outlines for each chapter? Or just for the larger general plot points? Do you try to complete the outlying before starting the fic? Or do you add to the outline as you go? Sorry if this is to many at once

lmao okay i got several asks about outlines but i’m just going to answer this one because it’s ~comprehensive~

every writing teacher i’ve ever had has hated my outlines. my friends find them incomprehensible.

if people are going to look at my answers as ways to do their own outlines, i have to say: that’s probably not a good idea

i don’t write outlines a majority of the time

i don’t write outlines to plan a story i’ve already decided to write

i write outlines primarily as a way to exorcise story ideas that i want to write but don’t want to actually commit to writing (answer prompts are another way i do this lol)

now, some things do get outlines as a way to plan and organize. survival is a talent has an outline because it’s 400k and spans six years. child king had an outline. needy’s body had an outline.

b u t

i’m currently writing rotten work without an outline

lynchpin didn’t have an outline

hope is the thing with feathers didn’t have an outline

never grow a wishbone only had an outline for the first couple of chapters

an invincible summer didn’t get an outline until like. chapter 4 of 6.

i just. uh. think about what i want to happen and then hope i remember to write it down. even when i do an outline, i’ll deviate from it wildly, and not update it to reflect that, because i know what i’m doing (ha!)

so! with that in mind, let’s go!

How detailed are they? Are they the same level of detail or do they vary?

they vary! but honestly - not very. sometimes i’ll write out a paragraph or bits of dialogue that are important to me, but most of the time it’s just broad strokes of what i want to happen, or a mechanism of how something complicated happens. like i have several paragraphs in my siat outline dealing with necromancy books, but like. two sentences on how they actually occur in the story because that’s just something i’m trusting myself to figure out when i sit down to write it.

How do you make your outlines? Chronologically scene by scene? Or do you come up with the scenes that call you and then come up with smaller filler scenes to fill in the gaps?

I try to put them chronologically, although sometimes that’s a little hard (in siat i have several scenes that i know will happen, i just don’t know when). that is something i will go back and edit on my outlines, is if i’ve changed the order the something happens i’ll go back and copy and paste until my outlines is in the right order. but only if the outlines is something i’m actually using to write and the story is longer than a couple of chapters.

because my outlines are so very not detailed, i just write down what it is that i want to write, like the reason i’m going to write this or want to write this, and figure out the rest later. i’ll fill it in later - or i won’t! because most of the time i don’t use my outline to actually write the story, and i use it more as an idea list, so if i don’t know what happens between scenes or i find it boring i just won’t write it down

like, for example, here is my “outline” for won’t even plant a garden in it’s entirety

weep as a woman

“you weep as a woman weeps.” “and how is that?” “as if the future rests on your hips, and you must walk it forward.”

crowley and eve were friends. cain killed abel with the flaming sword, and crowley begged them to say it was with a rock instead

crowley was raphael the painter and fucked michelangelo

crowley was there the night yeshua was born, was friends with mary, helped raise yeshua?

ghosts

crowley and anathema and joan of arc

i ended up dropping most of this and crowley ended up sleeping with both eve and yeshua as the major plot points. i don’t explain stuff, really. i know what i mean so i just don’t bother to get very detailed most of the time.

Do you have outlines for each chapter? Or just for the larger general plot points?

siat i divide up by year, and i think i did it by chapter for the last two chapters of build your wings on the way down, but otherwise it’s just one long list. i do my chapters based on words counts rather than content, so outlining by chapter doesn’t really make sense for me (siat is always around 15k a chapter, and everything else i do these days thats multi chapter is around 8k because that’s the best, but ngawb was 5k a chapter and i think for child king it was around 11k a chapter)

Do you try to complete the outlying before starting the fic? Or do you add to the outline as you go?

I’m constantly adding as a i go! my outlines are never really “complete” they’re just abandoned. i write down what i think will help me and tend to ignore the rest. sometimes i just. talking to myself in my outlines when i’m trying to think something through.

my outline for child king is under the cut because that’s one that’s a good mix of stuff i kept and stuff i threw out. DON’T JUDGE ME!! bad ideas don’t get written because they’re bad!! it’s part of the ~process~

child king

Summary: “A child king is still a king,” Deaton says softly. “A child king is still a child,” he snaps, but he knows this is an argument he’s already lost. – Stiles is a born alpha, and after the Hale fire, things get real complicated, real fast.

Stiles’s mom is the last remaining human from a pack that was destroyed by hunters. John is the one that helps her after, so he knows everything. When they move to beacon hills she doesn’t feel the need to say anything to the hale pack, because as far as they’re concerned she’s just a human, and she doesn’t want to get involved in pack business. But then stiles is born with red eyes. The doctor is quiet and scared john and Claudia freak out, but it’s because he’s a werewolf, which is a relief to parents because they thought something was wrong with their kid. Maybe they don’t know he’s an alpha, only that he’s a wolf? Or they know and they keep it a secret on purpose

Claudia is the one to approach mrs. Hale. She tells her that her son is a born werewolf, but that she’s not interested in joining their pack. Her husband is a new deputy and they just bought a house but they’ll move if they have to. “he’ll need a pack one day. It’s safer,” she says. “if he wants to join you one day, I won’t stop him. But that’s not a choice I’m willing to make for him.” Mrs hale agrees that they can say separate as in exchange for the sheriff smoothing over some ruffled feathers no and again. They agree. Claudia to sheriff “we’re going to have to move one day. Our son is an alpha, and he’ll need to make his own pack.”

Stiles is seven the first time he snarls at his mom, eyes flashing red, and she freezes. She’s got the pack instinct, it doesn’t matter that hes her kid, hes still her alpha, so its hella awkward. John can see how this will quickly spiral out of control if they can discipline their own kid. But stiles is the one to back down first, apologizing and doing as he’s told. There are careful power structures here, and this is the beginning of differentiating between stiles the human and stiles the wolf.

When his mom gets sick, stiles offers to turn her. Hale offers to turn her. She refused for Reasons that I have to figure out. Maybe the politics of it? Wanting to protect stiles and not wanting to become part of the hale pack

The fire happens. John ships stiles the hell out of dodge, because there are hunters about. He snoops around enough to figure out it was kate argent, but theres not really anything he can do about it

Scott knows about everything, and tries to tell his mom in a really akward way that they should trust stiles if they’re ever in danger, but she just laughs it off. Except when someone breaks in and threatens her with a gun, and she manages to make a phone call, it’s not 911, not john, but stiles, and she doesn’t even know why, regrets it as soon as it happens. But then stiles shows up and breaks both of the guys, eyes glowing red, and then calls his dad and scott to take care of it, because they’re humans, so they get human punishments. Melissa is told everything.

Scott has a bad asthma attack and, and Melissa asks about the bite. Scott is itching for it. He wants it so badly. Stiles has already promised to turn them when they turn 18, and Melissa knows that. She asks if theres a reason to wait, and the answer is nah, not really. So he gets the bite. Stiles being like uh psa punishments cant include scott staying away

After hale fire and stiles gets back, he’s shocked that hey just left, and that they left peter behind. He starts visiting peter several times a week. He tells his dad that they should pay for his medical care. They have a fuckton of money because his mom inherited all the pack wealth, and john doesn’t touch it because that’s stiles’s money, that’s werewolf money. But this is a werewolf thing, so he agrees. “his pack left him dad.”

Stiles bites Erica when they’re 14. Some point in middle school stiles wises up to the Isaac thing and tells his dad he needs to arrest his dad, or stiles is going to kill him, and he’s not even a little bit joking. Stiles hears Isaac crying while going by the house? In johns squad car. Makes them pull over, then bursts into the house. John goes with it because his son’s eyes are red.

Some point after the hales leave, things start trying to move into hale territory. Some wolves? Stiles smells them, and ends up at 10 years old telling them to fuck off. This how scott finds out? He’s with scott and his dad. Deaton is facing off against something? Panics when stiles intervenes, but stiles goes wolfy and red eyes and is like. This is mine now fuck off. Looks at the hale house, and finally says, we have to take care of this. We have to. But they don’t own the house or the land or any of it. They do … something

Stiles ends up having to deal with a lot of crap real young

Stiles has scott and Isaac when peter wakes up. Stiles is there, and peter isn’t crazy because he wasn’t abandoned to die alone. Stiles says he can stay, or he can go, not trying to pressure anything. Peter chooses to become part of stiles’s pack, because his family is either dead or abandoned him. Peter ends up moving in with them as he finishes healing and to get used to being in a pack and with stiles. It’s very strange for john, but it’s a werewolf thing and he’s trying to be supportive. After a couple months, stiles tells his dad that having peter is a relief, that there’s finally someone who knows things, someone older who can support him as a werewolf. Peter acts as his second, and he finally has some degree of authority that age has lost him. Stiles has peter take care of the hale house. Peter and stiles have the conversation, where peter is like the hale land is your land now. You’re the alpha of beacon hills. He does what stiles directs him to.

Isaac is living with scott under stiles’s direction ish. But lots of Melissa. Isaac like I don’t wantto be afraid anymore, I don’t want to hurt anymore, and stiles is like. Okay. We’ll fix this. But he doesn’t bite Isaac until he goes to a shitton of therapy and has mostly sorted himself out. For isaac’s fifteenth birthday, he bites him.

Erica is spur of the moment, it’s something that all instinct and very little thought. OR they’re dating and it happesn? Erica’s parents suck. Stiles doesn’t want the balancing act of being boyfriend and alpha.

Jackson is so fucking desperate to belong to something. He nags and nags and nags and finally stiles bites him at least half to shut him up.

“dad can I talk to you about something weird and uncomfortable and a little creepy” talks about crush on Lydia, and how he’s not sure if its because he has a crush on her or if it’s bc he thinks she’ll be good for the pack. Lydia joins before Jackson, and she’s the one that pushes stiles into it. Lydia and stiles are not dating, but she’s clearly high in the hiarchey.

Boyd? Just like. Shows up. Idk.

So by the time laura and derek show up, stiles’s pack is: john, Melissa, peter, Lydia, Jackson, danny, Isaac, boyd, Erica, deaton (who’s acting as emissary but is training danny). Maybe bring in some later characters, like malia and kira and cora. Ooooh maybe the twins show up before they became alphas, still run aways and looking for something else? Stiles takes them on. Stiles finds malia early on after the fire

Peter is willing to forgive derek but he has a lot of shit with laura. Stiles agrees to let laura and derek stay and not be part of his pack, although laura insists she doesn’t need his permission. She snaps at peter to come home with them, and he looks at her like she’s insane. He says there’s no hale pack, and if there was, he’s not interested. He’s a stillinkski wolf now. Cora too maybe? Double blow. Peter owns the hale land, and he makes it clear the day stiles turns 18 he’ll be signing it over to him. Stiles is known by the surrounding packs.

Stiles has to somehow defend the surrounding area, has to make it clear he’s his and that he’s not willing to give it up. It’s valuable land. People are going to come looking for it once people figure out it’s abandoned. When deaton finds out stiles is an alpha, he goes around as an emissary to the surrounding packs. Saying that its under stiles now. He’s known to them so it goes mostly uncontested. This is when he and the sheriff have the child king conversation.

Stiles tries really, really hard to be a good alpha. That means controlling the territory, and working with other packs when members go rouge or something goes wrong. He’s thirteen the first time he goes to lend a hand in a fight, and it’s young, it’s too young, but he’s an alpha. He has to do this, to maintain the peace. And the thing is – stiles is good at this, good at not pushing, at not using his status as a crutch or an excuse, instead as a tool.

Maybe this is why no one cares for laura’s excuses. As much as laura wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility, she was an adult, if only barely. Stiles is a literal child, and in her absence shouldered it all. So even if she does technically have a claim, none of them are willing to honor it. “if you kill alpha stiles, you won’t have allies, you’ll have enemies.”

Allison and argents. Stiles brings his pack to kill kate. Gives peter the chance to do it himself, and is so very proud when he says no. but instead of letting her go free, stiles crushes her throat. “revenge would have been trapping you all in here and setting the whole thing on fire. Justice would have been making you watch as she burned alive. This was mercy, and don’t you forget it.” Scott is hella in love with Allison, but he knows this comes first. Her mom is full of hatred, but stiles more than makes it clear that he has no problem with killing her too.

Stiles sees derek soon after. They’ve already gone back and forth a lot. But he and laura weren’t there. Stiles tells him what he did. They have a ~moment~

Derek wants so very much to join stiles’s pack, but he doesn’t want to lose laura.

Something finally convinces laura to take the plunge and the stillinksi pack is one happy family

#asks #anon #writing advice

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elladories · 3 years ago

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hq boys reacting to you listening to a sad song

warnings: its a little bit sad,,, but its mostly just fluff!!

characters: suna, nishinoya, atsumu, kita

a/n: hehewieweoweoweiow,, im writing again hi!!

requests status: open <3

<3 suna:

- he's lounging on the couch waiting for you to complete your homework before he can have your undivided attention!!

- he understands that your studies are very important so he doesn't mind it (good boyfie) -he's lurking around spotify and spots u listening to a song

- at first he's like "oh ok cool lol this song kinda slaps!!!!"

- doesn't even realize its a sad song until its nearly over LMFAO

- eyebrow furrows and he's making his way over to where ur studying just to check up on u!! he didn't really know what to expect

- he doesn't think of the song as much but more so just wants to look out for u <3 awe

- your nose is in your book and you're reading a chapter for ur most recent lesson

- "hey babe?" lanky suna approaches u

- ur head shoots up and suna's standing at the door way with his arms crossed (sweats nervously)

- "yes rin,,?" u ask and ur busy putting your bookmark in the book

- "are u okay?" he has a blunt approach that has u confused and u awkwardly laugh at him

- "of course, why?"

- he's relieved in some sense but is kinda concerned for u HAHA

- "alright,, just checking up on u. are u almost done?"

- if u say no he'll throw yu over his shoulder and demand his cuddles

- and if u say yes he's still gonna throw u over his shoulder and demand his cuddles

- win win situation!!! rip ur studies lmao

<3 nishinoya:

- it's been a hard day and u have been out running errands the entire evening!!

- u plan on taking a shower and then making a snack and then maybe a nap

- u plug your music into a speaker and get undressed for your shower

- the playlist is randomized and ends up playing some sad songs by some weird chance,,,

- nishinoya comes home from practice and is excited to see u but his entire mood deflates when he hears an extremely sad song blast from the bathroom

- his entire face goes white and he immediately starts imagining the worst scenario possible

- drops all his bags at the door and starts sprinting to where u were and forces the bathroom door open

- "y/n?!"

- "oh hi noya-!" u didn't expect him to just rush into the bathroom like that but thank goodness you're already in the shower

- "are you okay?!" he becomes a little more relieved when he sees ur messy clump of clothes on the floor and when u explain the situation he's relieved

- afterward nishinoya wants to bonk ur head but it wasn't ur fault but really he's just glad he got home and nothing bad could've happened to u <3

<3 atsumu:

- on the way home from practice atsumu walks u home everyday <3 he wants to make sure his precious s/o gets there safely!!!

- "tsumu! do you want to listen to this song with me?" u ask him one day and he generally takes the other side of the headphone

- he expects something fresh or pop but instead the song starts with slow piano chords,, he crooks his head at the sound but nods a long and waits for something to happen with the tune

- "i didn't know u were into music like this, angel"

- "oh- i'm not usually! i just really like this song, tsumu!"

- PLS his heart fluttering rn in his chest because of the nickname

- after the song ends u wait for him to give his opinion on the song but instead he's leaning down to ur level and brushing ur hair out of your face

- UR STARTLED BY THE INTIMACY

- "tsumu,, whats wrong?" u ask him, gasping when u feel his hand caress your cheek

- atsumu on the other hand is a bit worried for u,, a sad song like the one he just listened to was something he didn't expect u to like...

- "are you sure u just like the song, angel? did ya boyfriend do something wrong?" atsumu pouts but then he immediately stops when u throw your arms around him

- "you didn't tsumu,, i just liked the song!!"

- he's relieved and probably forgets about it later but he totally puts it in his playlist for u <3

<3 kita:

- u and kita are preparing dinner together and u have ur music on the speaker

- kita loves doing little domestic things together and he loves to spend his time with u next to him <3

- the next song that plays is a little sadder than all of the others that have played,,,

- after the sad, slow chorus of the song goes by he glimpses over to u thinking u would wear a sad expression of some sort but there is none

- he doesn't really know how to react to the situation other than to just stare at u softly,, kita would probably question what made u this sad to put a song like this in ur playlist :<<

- ur happily chopping vegetables and humming along and kita chuckles at the sight

- he wouldn't necessarily go out of his way to confront u or ask u why u were listening to a sad song, because he trusts that if anything was wrong, u would tell him <3

- puts away whatever he's doing for the moment and approaches u from behind to wrap his arms around your torso lovingly

- kita isn't really one to initiate physical touch so ur a little shocked but relax and lean against his strong chest!!!

- "something wrong, shinsuke?"

- "mm-mm.." he mumbles into ur shoulder, tightening his hold around u

- the sad song kinda just gets tossed away to the back of his head when he remembers that the love of his life would be there for him regardless ^__^

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu suna #haikyuu nishinoya #nishinoya oneshot #nishinoya x reader #atsumu x y/n #atsumu fic #atsumu fluff #kita x reader #kita fluff #kita scenarios

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meltwonu · 4 years ago

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 2]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; cam show, masturbation, dirty talk, sir!kink, tiny jealous!seungcheol. Wow! Thank you all so much for your interest in Cherry Bomb and our very favorite simp! LMAO 😆 And thank you all for being so patient! I know one week drags on when ur waiting for content so thank you so so so so so much for your patience! 🥰🍒 also, some new characters in this, am sorry if ur not a fan but the rest of svt r also simps in this so we had to expand a bit �� HAHAHA HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL!!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - ?

It’s 10:05AM when Seungcheol makes it to work, tossing his things in his employee locker before pocketing his phone and heading out to the floor for the day.

He’d gotten approximately 3 hours of sleep and the giddiness was still eating him up when he greets Jeongguk; the tall male that works at the concession stand at the roller rink.

“Hey Seungcheol-hyung! Whoa, you look like you didn’t get any sleep, what happened to you?” The two share a laugh; Seungcheol ruffling his own hair as he sighs. “I couldn’t sleep last night, I was just too… Uh, excited about w-work…” He stutters out, Jeongguk’s eyebrow raised almost immediately at the blatant lie.

“Hyung, we’ve been working here for months. No offense, but nobody gets excited about coming here. Yoongi-hyung is hiding in the restroom as we speak.” Jeongguk deadpans, eyes rolling as he passes Seungcheol a water bottle. “Did you get laid?”

Not really, but kinda? But no, Seungcheol thinks.

“Nah, I just, I got a new PC game and I stayed up all night playing. You know how it is!” Jeongguk nods in understanding.

Seungcheol checks his phone for the umpteenth time since he’d woken up and you still hadn’t texted him. Not that he entirely expected to be woken up to a text message from you, but he perhaps had dreamt of it; waking up and scrambling to find the device while he shook the sleep from his eyes.

Sighing, he pockets the device, swiping the water bottle off of the countertop before he shoots Jeongguk a fixed stare. “When does Namjoon-hyung get back from his vacation?” Namjoon was one of the managers who’d gone on an extended vacation recently which left Seungcheol picking up extra shifts.

On normal occasions, he would’ve politely declined but seeing as it meant extra cash, he practically begged to take them.

“Mmm, dunno. Maybe like a week?” Seungcheol mentally cheers; that meant one more week of extra pay even if he dragged his tired body home every night. He would finally be able to buy you that Sybian that he’d been saving up for. You never asked for one but Seungcheol liked to spoil you and quite frankly, he wanted to see you fall apart on it while you thought of him.

“Cool, well, I’ll be disinfecting the rollerskates. Tell Yoongi-hyung to come help me if he ever emerges from the restroom.”

“You got it, hyung!”

In the time between leaving Jeongguk at the concession stand and the fourth pair of skates he’s disinfected, a party of ten show up at the roller rink; loud and obnoxious as they set their things everywhere. He sighs, knowing exactly that he would be the one to clean up the mess afterwards.

Seungcheol watches the gaggle of teens fumble all over the rink, a sigh on his lips as he sanitizes another pair of skates. He contemplated every single day if it was worth working at the old and usually empty rollerskating rink, but he had to admit, it paid obscenely well. Nobody wanted to work there so his boss basically paid him double his old wage; silent screams running through his head as soon as he realized that meant he can afford to spoil you with more gifts. That had been hard when he was working at the diner down the street.

“Hey ‘Cheol, some kid broke the wheels off of his rental skates. D’you think you can go handle it?” Yoongi drawls, eyes glued to his phone as he waits for Seungcheol’s reply.

Goddamnit.

“Sure, let me just finish cleaning these.”

Yoongi nods, walking off. Seungcheol sets the old pair of skates down, dusting off his work pants as he stands up. He feels his phone vibrate in the pocket, fishing it out to check what it is.

[cherry_clouds has gone live!]

His vision goes red; pupils shaking when he sees it. You never went live this early in the day. He can feel his throat going dry, panicked screaming in his head when he realizes his break isn’t for another hour and a half and your shows usually lasted at least 45 minutes on a short day. But Seungcheol can’t miss this; not after the two of you had spoken last night.

Seungcheol’s teeth clench as he glances around the loud room, seeing his co-workers on the floor. He just needed to catch your show for at least 15 minutes and he swore he’d be fine.

“Fuck them kids.” He mutters under his breath, beelining for the employee restroom.

Seungcheol says a thankful prayer, locking the door behind him as he sits on the countertop. Just a few minutes; 20 tops. He lowers the volume so nobody can hear your voice except for him.

tangerine_kwan: whoa, a morning show?

alphagyu97: for once, i’m glad i wake up early

xcaliburDK: honestly, same

You giggle on screen, wiping the sleepiness from your eyes as you stretch out on your bedsheets. Seungcheol smiles appreciatively; you’d slept in the cute sheer lavender babydoll he’d sent you when you first hit 5k subs. “I know… it’s really rare, huh? I woke up and I felt so needy… I was so wet when I woke up…” He watches with bated breath as you tease yourself, running your hands from your torso down between your legs.

artist8hao: oh? what’s on your mind, doll?

universe_WZ: what did i miss

“I was just thinkin’, y’know? I couldn’t sleep last night after I finished all the important stuff I had to do~ ‘n you didn’t miss anything yet~” You tease, fingertips pressing into your soaking panties as you moan.

dom.cheol: i couldn’t sleep either… too busy thinkin’ about you ;)

Seungcheol feels the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, checking how much time has passed since he holed up in the restroom.

dom.cheol has donated $50

therealchan99 has donated $25

therealchan99: all the insomniacs are probably cryin rn

sleepy_wonu: speak for yourself, i’m deadass in the middle of my forensics lab with headphones on and the screen dimmed to hell

“Oho~ Is our sleepy_wonu trying to be a forensics scientist?” You giggle, biting your lip cutely as you stare into the camera lens.

sleepy_wonu: ya, maybe i can buy you gifts if i ever start getting paid big bucks

Seungcheol’s eyes narrow at the comments, jealousy bubbling up at one of your other regulars. He typically tried to keep his jealousy in check, knowing that just because he showered you with gifts didn’t mean the two of you were exclusive or that you owed him anything. And he especially knew you always liked to engage with your viewers and ask them about themselves.

“Hmm~ Our dom.cheol seems quiet this morning~ Everything okay, sir?” Seungcheol feels the arousal pouring over his body and he tries to will it away; after all, he still needed to get back to work once you were done.

dom.cheol: everything’s ok, sweetheart. you’re very cute in the morning

Your eyes pierce the camera and Seungcheol can momentarily feel his breath stop; fingertips clutching his phone for dear life.

“Mmm, I went to sleep last night dreamin’ of nice and strong hands pinning me down to my bed ‘n fuckin me into the sheets…” You pause, slipping the sheer babydoll over your head which left you only in your lace panties. “And there was a really really really dominating voice making me cum and tellin’ me to take all of his cock and oh~ god, it’s like I could feel it!” You finish, slipping your soaking panties off before you spread your legs wide for the camera.

You don’t waste any time, plunging two fingers deep into your pussy as you keen, toes curling against the sheets as you start fucking yourself.

“Ngh, fu--fuck, ‘n they made me cum over and, hah, o-over, fucking my pussy ‘n my ass… ‘n then cumming down my throat… Mmh and I still wanted more even when they filled me up with so much cum~”

Seungcheol’s throat is drier than a desert, almost dropping his phone as he listens to you. There was absolutely no way you weren’t talking about him.

tangerine_kwan: holy shit

dom.cheol: what else, baby

You curl your fingers, barely able to touch your g-spot and it makes you wonder for a second how well Seungcheol could finger you and how much of his cock you could take.

“A-ah, and--mmh, and I--I kept begging ‘Sir, p-please fuck me more!’ ‘n I felt so f-full… God, it felt so real~ I really needed to cum when I woke up so I turned on my cam~” You whine, thumb pressing down onto your clit. You hated to admit it but thinking of Seungcheol’s deep voice and obscenely handsome good looks was enough to make you cum once more before you even went to sleep and now even your subconscious seemed to crave the devilishly handsome male.

alphagyu97 has donated $75

dom.cheol has donated $250

artist8hao: those cute ‘lil fingers enough to satisfy your greedy pussy?

Mewling, you start rubbing circles on your clit, chasing the quickly growing urge to cum. The sound of donations flood your ears but all you can think of is Seungcheol’s deep voice groaning and growling into your ear. “No~ I want m-more but… but I came so much last night too! Maybe I am a ‘lil greedy, huh?” You tease, adding a third finger as you moan loudly. The stretch felt good; head imagining Seungcheol’s fingers as you fuck yourself faster.

dom.cheol: why don’t you cum? I can see you want to, sweetheart.

“Mmm, is it okay, sir? Can I cum already?” You ask shyly, batting your eyelashes at the camera as Seungcheol grits his teeth, cock throbbing in his work pants. He would definitely need to take care of this before he stepped back out onto the floor.

dom.cheol: cum, babygirl, you deserve it.

Your eyes snap shut right after you read Seungcheol’s comment, biting your lip as you race to your orgasm. The sound of your fingers fucking into your wet pussy and your moans are all Seungcheol can hear, pupils blown wide knowing you just came thinking about him, probably. Or so he hoped, at least.

You can feel your legs shaking, threatening to snap shut as your orgasm crests; the sound of rapid fire donations battering your ears as you cum hard on your own fingers. Choked sobs and cries are all you can muster, shapes dancing behind your eyelids the entire time the pleasure washes over you.

xcaliburDK: well goddamn, good morning to me

sleepy_wonu: fuck

universe_WZ: i… speechless

Seungcheol smiles smugly to himself, mentally patting himself on the back.

“Mm… ‘m so tired…” You murmur, slipping your wet fingers from inside your pussy as you moan at the emptiness. Seungcheol watches as you lick your fingers, cleaning them off before you lay on your side facing the camera.

universe_WZ: i think u deserve a nap

alphagyu97: yea, cuz holy shit fuck that was hot

therealchan99: god i love it when u dirty talk

j__min has donated $400

j__min: me too, dollface ;)

Confusion crosses Seungcheol’s face at the newcomer, blood draining from his body at how much they seemed to donate on the first go.

“Huh? Oh! Do we have a new regular?” You inquire, sleepiness lacing your voice. A nap was definitely needed after the last 24 hours of your life.

j__min: ur quite cute, might need to keep my eye on u princess ;)

dom.cheol has donated $450

That’ll show them, Seungcheol thinks. He didn’t often think of himself as competitive either, but goddamn, would he go the extra mile for you.

You giggle tiredly on camera and he can see the sleepiness in your eyes, watching with fondness as you answer a few more comments, yawning cutely as you stretch out on the bedsheets again. He mentally thanks you for not giving the newcomer any extra attention.

dom.cheol: take a nap, sweetheart.

Nodding, you yawn once more. “Okay, everyone~ I think I’m gonna take that nap you all seem to want me to take, hehe~ ‘n then I’ll probably wake up and get some food delivered ‘cause I’m still really tired after last night… But I just can’t help it, y’know? Sometimes I just wanna be fucked nice ‘n hard by a real cock~” Winking, you say your goodbyes, thanking them for their donations and support; blowing the camera a kiss before you end the stream.

Seungcheol lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, body slumping atop the counter. He had loads of questions now that you were off air. Firstly, were you thinking about him? Secondly, who the fuck was j__min?

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he checks the clock. 45 minutes. He groans. At least nobody had come looking for him.

Seungcheol places his phone down onto the counter, biting his lip and palming himself over his work pants before he thinks, screw it.

A satisfied groan spills from his lips as soon as he wraps a hand around his throbbing cock, not wasting another second before he starts a quick pace. He imagines your tight pussy and your face contorting in pleasure as he fucks you into your own bedsheets, thrusting up into his clenched fist as the images linger in his mind. Licking his lips, he thinks about your sweet moans as you beg him for more, stray tears slipping down your cheeks when you call him ‘sir’ through choked sobs.

And it doesn’t take long before Seungcheol is cumming, teeth biting into his bottom lip to keep his noises in as the euphoria washes over him.

He sighs, sated, as he slows down his strokes, thankful he didn’t get any cum on his work pants.

Seungcheol gives himself a second to catch his breath, shuffling off of the countertop to get cleaned up before he steps back out. He grimaces when he meets his own eyes in the dingy mirror; he’d just gotten off at work while you did an extremely rare morning show. Granted, it wasn’t the lowest he’d ever felt but definitely was a contender.

Shaking his head, he steps back out, the outdated pop music hitting his ears as soon as the roller rink comes back into view.

The gaggle of teens are still on the floor, Jeongguk looks unbothered and Yoongi sits by the skate rental booth; not a single one of them even noticing he was missing for the approximate hour he was in the restroom.

He really loved his job.

That night, Seungcheol trudges home more tired than he usually is.

You still hadn’t texted him, which was fine. But he had checked his phone every second he had free, zoning out when he saw no new notifications.

Seungcheol toes his shoes off once he crosses the threshold of his studio apartment, making his way to the sofa before he flops down onto it. He scrolls through a few apps, mindlessly reading a few things before his stomach growls.

“Guess I should eat…” He mumbles to himself, placing his phone onto his chest before he closes his eyes for a second. Sighing, he relaxes, almost falling asleep. It was generally really loud at work with the people and the music always blaring, so he liked to bask in the quietness whenever he had the chance to.

This time, however, the peace and quiet doesn’t last long when his phone vibrates on his chest, alerting him of a text message. He grabs his phone at lightning speed, eyes wide when he sees a text message from an unknown number. Quickly opening the notification, his pupils shake as he recognizes your typing style almost immediately.

Unknown Number: Cheollie~ ><;; ‘m sorry I didn’t text sooner… i was kinda shy… and i slept so much too hehe~ oops~ i hope i’m not bothering you? i didn’t know when it was a good time…

Seungcheol shakes his head at his phone, sitting up as the excitement blooms within him again. He take a moment to figure out the best response, typing and erasing the same sentence three times before he sends it.

‘Not at all, sweetheart. ;) How was your nap?’

#seungcheol smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #scoups smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol imagines #scoups imagines #scoups scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #scoups #seungcheol #cherrybomb!cheol

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kashimos-hajime · 4 years ago

Text

fragrance | a.h.

summary: Plato said, “The god of love lives in a state of need. It is a need. It is an urge. It is a homeostatic imbalance. Like hunger and thirst, it's almost impossible to stamp out.”

WARNINGS: LMAO SMUT (18+), oral (m!receiving), swearing, drinking, nervous and awkward y/n and hotch heehee pairing: college!aaron hotchner x fem!reader word count: 4.8k

a/n: lmao so i watched a tiktok of THAT SCENE in love and human remains so i am legally obligated to write what inspired me. ok but @venusbarnes,,, it happened,,,

part of the bitter end universe but not required beforehand to read this. takes place in their second year of college

In retrospect, you know you’re freaking out over nothing.

You just showered, changed outfits twice, tried to fix your hair, inspected your makeup constantly since you’ve finished, and tried to figure out a way to call it off to pass the time.

Why are you even worried? Ever since you’ve gotten off the plane, which, in itself, is a step you cannot backtrack since you are merely a college student with limited funds, your knees have been weak and you feel like you don’t really have a stomach.

Why? It’ll be fine.

You’ve been over Aaron for two-and-some-months years, now. The distance did you good, did you both good. Namely, you’re quite damn sure you don’t feel anything for him anymore besides the occasional flicker of irritation, the excited burst in your stomach, the absolute terror of seeing him again.

How has he changed? It feels like it’s been so long.

You glance at the clock.

9:55

You said 10AM. You have five minutes at the most to get yourself together and just run down the staircase, shove yourself into his presence before your nerves can tell you to turn back. Taking a deep breath, you look at your reflection in the mirror one last time before heading to the desk and grabbing your wrist watch. It’s worn down leather is soft to your touch and you feel an overwhelming sense of calm overtake you.

This will be fine.

As you fasten it to your wrist, you glance at the face. Time seems to tick by slower as you pull on your ankle boots, swipe a finger over your lip, and grab your room key. As you descend the cold stairwell, memories grasp at your consciousness, tease you, but you push them away and instead focus on putting on foot in front of the other, focus on gathering the courage to stand in front of him again.

Before you know it, you’re opening the door and walking over to the pacing figure you only know to be your best friend. His hair is still long, but he’s wearing a leather jacket, so that’s new, and he’s frowning to himself.

And it makes you smile, because that’s him. Aaron Hotchner, master frowner, broody boy. His hair is still long, his eyes still so dark. He hasn’t changed.

God, what will you say to make him laugh?

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you say without thinking.

“George? And here I thought I was John,” he replies just as quickly, matching your tone and your entire heart lurches into your throat as your smile grows stiffly.

Crap.

And that’s when you realize that, quite frankly, that convincing yourself that you’re over Aaron Hotchner is going to be a lot harder than it looked at first.

You’re fighting the urge to let the whole facade drop, but you can’t because this is Aaron, your best friend you haven’t seen in forever and although you’re so fucking happy to see him, you know everything is easier said than done.

He’s just your best friend, and you’re… you’re… feeling great. Your stomach is a bundle of nerves but that’s because you’re excited to spend time with him. Right?

“So, where to?” you ask, feeling quite exposed as he looks at you strangely. “I’m starving,” you say, an overwhelming need to explain causing word vomit to spill out of your mouth, “so, I was thinking we could get some breakfast, first. I’m in the mood for anything really.”

“Oh,” he says. “I have a place in mind.”

“O-okay. Lead the way, then. It’s kinda chilly out, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you needa grab another coat?” he asks as you step closer and they begin to walk to the door. He opens it for you and as you slip past him, your entire system shuts down. Your mind heads straight for the gutter, vivid images, voices, feelings from your dream flashing through your head.

Cheap beer, smoke, sweat, and a cologne you can’t forget.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“N-no. I’m okay. Are you, uhm, are you going to be okay in just that jacket? It looks great, by the way.” Are your hands shaking or is that just the swelling throat and the hard lump in your gut’s fault?

Shit. Holy shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

“Thanks, and, uh, no. I’m okay. Are you okay?”

You nod and smile shakily. “Great. It’s just… I’m really glad to see you.”

He stops for a moment, stares as if he knows or maybe you just feel naked in your own skin, and then matches your timid smile. “I’m really happy to see you too.”

Right. What did you say again about nerves?

[TWENTY HOURS EARLIER]

“You guys better behave,” Aaron sighs. “I’m not gonna be responsible if I have to deck Carter.”

“Woah there, Hotch,” his roommate comments, sliding off his bed and slinging an around his shoulders. “You have a girlfriend.”

“We’re on a break, actually.”

“I thought you don’t believe in breaks.”

“Well, we’re just talking things out with the long distance thing. It’s not like when she was in high school. She just needs to adjust to her first year, and we’re still talking. So, it’s more like… an intermission before we resume after mid-terms.”

“So, you’re single.”

“Technically, but I’m also not looking,” he retorts, just in case his roommate tries to set something up behind his back, but the guy merely shrugs.

“Whatever you say, Hotch-o.”

He scowls, getting up and running a hand through his hair before grabbing his jacket off the hook. “I’m just trying to say that Y/N’s been there for me since before you guys and before Haley.”

“I get it,” his roommate, named Earl, says as he flips the collar of his varsity jacket and grabs the room key. “She’s like a sister to you, right?” Aaron doesn’t say anything to that and Earl doesn’t prod him any further as he grabs his backpack and slings it onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Hotch. I’ll spread the word to the guys. They won’t try anything.”

“Yeah, thanks, Earl.”

“I’m heading to class, but it’s the bar tonight, right? You’ll pick her up from the airport?”

“Yeah.” The door opens and closes with a click and Aaron lets out a sigh, turning away from the mirror so he can stop pretending he’s trying to fix whatever Earl thought was wrong with his appearance. He just wanted to stay busy so his friend could leave him alone to his messy thoughts.

He had received your last letter on Monday, confirming your flight for the Thanksgiving weekend. You’d be here with him and his friends for three days.

It wasn’t his idea, nor yours. Sort of like… a mutual epistolary understanding that enough is enough and one of them should just… go.

You had volunteered for that. You had always wanted to see Harvard’s gorgeous campus, according to your last letter.

Aaron runs a hand through his hair and sighs. He has one day off to catch up on the work assigned, get ahead of the reading, and just relax before his friends drag him off to hang out until the sun rises for an entire weekend. He’s sure you’ll love it. You’ve always loved staying out at night where it’s light, watching the sunrise and going to sleep to it.

Despite everything, you enjoy the solitude the night, the contemplative silence of it. Just like him.

He can’t wait to see you again.

Sitting in the RA office and watching time tick by, he can’t help but feel like something is chaining him down. A heavy weight sits between his shoulders and he stares at the clock for what feels like a short eternity, unable to focus.

The day is slow in its passing, and a growing, unwanted hollowness begins to fill his soul as he half-heartedly finishes his criminal causation theory assignment, reviews for the quiz on Tuesday, and reads the next chapter on the foundations of the criminal justice system. He doesn’t really pay attention to any of it, though, and he feels like his head is stuffed with cotton as he gets up for the first time in hours and stretches, glancing at the time.

Your plane is supposed to land at 6:30.

It’s 6:00 now, and he was supposed to eat dinner before going to pick you up.

Shit. He’ll just have to eat at the bar.

Gathering his books and papers into his bag, he slings it onto his shoulder, trying to ignore the cold sweat clamming his hands up just as the phone in the RA office rings. It’s so jarring her starts, turning to the device and his heart pounds in his throat as he goes to grab it. Duty to the job means he has to, even if he might be late. You’ll understand, right?

“Hello, Resident Assistant speaking,” he says with a sigh.

“Hey.”

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Student Services was kind enough to reroute me.” A car beeps behind you and he frowns, holding the phone closer to his ear as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder to sit more firmly. “I’m calling from an airport payphone, but bad news. My flight got delayed, so I can’t come to the bar tonight. I’ll be arriving, like, dead in the morning. Two or three AM.”

“Damn. The boys will miss meeting you,” he says, unable to help the unhappy but forced smile. It comes across as a grimace but he hopes you appreciate the effort. It’s what you’d say if you were here.

“The boys?” you echo, amused. “Well then, tell the boys that they’ll have to wait until morning.” More seriously: “I’m really sorry, Aaron. I was so excited to see you tonight.”

“Yeah, me too. It’s—it’s okay. Don’t worry about it, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower?” you repeat and Aaron feels his throat shrink to the diameter of a needle. “You don’t call me that unless you’re genuinely sorry about something bad. Like, death-bad.” Then, a bright laugh that shouldn’t bat away the dreary disposition overcoming him, but it does. “Aaron, it’s not that important—just one night. Look, let’s meet up at 10AM in the hotel lobby tomorrow morning and make up for it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Great. See you in a bit, Hopscotch.”

“Bye.”

He heads to his room, your voice echoing in his head. Freshening up with a splash of cold water and a rake of a comb through his hair, he explains the situation to Earl as they head down to the bar near campus where some of the other guys are already drinking.

“That’s too bad. Would’ve been nice to meet her.”

“Tomorrow, Earl. She isn’t cancelling.”

“I know, but y’know, it would’ve been fun to beat her in darts.”

“You’re awful at darts.”

“Bigger opponent pool. C’mon, cheer up, Hotch. It’s just a delayed flight, you said so yourself.” More grumpy silence. “Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up. First shots are on me.”

His cheeks flushed with heat, he grabs at the shot blindly and throws it back, laughing as his friends get on the dance floor. The bar seems to haze before him. The darkness is pierced by blue lights and red as the shadowed patrons swing to and fro on the floor. Everything is gauzy, edges blurred as the lights flicker and filter through the crowd. Aaron slouches against the booth, smirking at the way Earl’s trying to lay the moves on a girl who merely walks away and he flashes a sympathetic thumbs up before his friend simply rejoins the rest of the guys on the floor.

Everyone had chipped in to buy him round after round in order to get him to loosen up, and it’s hard to admit, but it’s worked. Everything is ethereal, and he feels like he’s floating through life.

He wants to dance, but he doesn’t think he can stand on his own two feet, to be honest. His entire world is tipped and the silly smile on his face isn’t going to disappear any time soon as a figure makes her way through the crowd, making her way towards him. It catches his eye, the way she moves around people, keeps her head held up.

He can’t quite see her face but even then, he knows that he knows her.

“What are you doing here?” he asks before he can stop himself, like he isn’t in control of his mouth. He gapes as the woman sits down beside him. Her skin smells like sweet fruit and the sting of tequila as she slings an arm around his neck, and his entire stomach flips as she leans over, her arm bent and her fingers playing with the hair by his ear. “You’re not… you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Why not?” she asks, twirling hair around her finger as she gently trails her other hand down his chest. “You don’t want me here?”

“No, no, I’ve missed you, I just—” Her palm runs lower, over his stomach and further. His head whips towards her and he catches the sweet, dulcet notes of warm vanilla spice shampoo. It calms him, sweet in his sinuses and he watches her indistinguishable face. Despite not seeing quite clearly, he knows she’s beautiful with an unintentionally seductive smile, a tentative charm to her movements.

The hand stops and a heat burns through his chest, following the trail she’d carved into him and he feels blood drain from his head so viciously it leaves him lightheaded.

“Just what?” she asks quietly, yet still so loudly over the pub’s pounding music and he groans softly, head tilting back.

“Shit. I just didn’t expect you here. I should introduce you to my friends—” He wants to get up but finds his entire body moving through molasses. He can barely lift a finger and, through the blurred streams of the conscious and the subconscious, he knows he doesn’t really want to.

He doesn’t want to share.

“Oh, then let’s go.” Her hand lifts but, like a flash of lightning, his fingers wrap around her wrist and keep her firmly against him. “Aaron.” Chastising this time, like he’s a housecat, and she, the exasperated owner. Fingers thread through his hair as he grins at the woman.

“I’m not keen on sharing you right now,” he admits, eyes falling to lips that press into a wondrous smile. “I don’t feel keen on sharing you ever.”

“Is that a fact?” she asks, and he nods, his nose brushing against hers as she leans down to kiss him. Her mouth is warm ecstasy, like cider on a cold winter day that burns through his blood, and his heart is beating everywhere at once—in his throat, in his fingers, between his legs. Fingers card through his hair as his hand finds the curve of a hip and he pulls.

Immediately, as if sensing his intentions before he even thinks it, the woman swings a leg over his hip and straddles him, the dress riding up luxurious thighs and he chuckles to himself as her hands find his neck, thumbs brushing over the sharp cut of his jaw. Her mouth opens against his, breathing into the next ferocious kiss again as his hands trace the shape of her, the swell of her legs, the cool heat of her skin against his burning hands.

“What do you want from me, Aaron?” she whispers, leaning in close enough that he can feel her lips against the shell of his ear, and then down his neck. He gasps, breath catching in his throat as her hands gently squeeze his throat as if reminding him of her previous question but he can’t quite speak. She kisses down past his collarbones, pulls down the neck of his shirt teasingly and peppers kisses to the skin that she can reach. Her fingers are pressing into his pulsepoint, the other hand travelling down his waist again and he knows she can feel it, the hard bulge pressing up between her legs.

She trails back up again, her kisses teasing the corner of his mouth and he turns, trying to catch the elusive minx only to delight in her light laughter when she pulls back.

“Tease,” he mumbles, eyes shut tight and only then do her lips find his again just as fingers pull at his belt buckle and he sucks in a breath as she glances down with him, curiously running her knuckles gently along the curve of it. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows down his gasp and he hears her chuckle. As if he’s a mere bystander to his own actions, Aaron watches his hands trail up the sides of her and slowly find purchase on her shoulders.

With the gentlest of pressure, he pushes down, and it’s like she melts between his hands, legs sliding, entire body sinking as his legs open wider to welcome her. Her breath is warm as she unzips his jeans, fingers prying his boxers down until they brush against it, pulsing and hard against his abdomen.

“Jesus,” she whispers but he hears it so clearly, her breath teasing the tip as fingers wrap around his dick. A strong, warm tongue follows, from the bottom to the tip, tracing the vein and every single ounce of oxygen leaves his body when she goes down on him, endlessly warm and wet. Hands wrap around what isn’t in her mouth and his fingers find her scalp, grabbing fistfuls of hair as his head hits the wall behind him.

Swallowing tightly, a lopsided smirk crosses his face and he lets out a soft sigh when she tilts her head, takes him in until she’s gagging on it. His hips twitch but a hand against his pelvis stalls him, a firm pressure that makes him open his eyes and look down to see her already staring back at him. Eyes dark, lips shining in what light there is, he nearly loses it right there as she swallows him down, making his entire body clench. His jaw tight, he lets out a hissed moan and the hand not on her head grabs his thigh, trying to stave off the desire to fuck her mouth.

The bass beat of the pub beats in his head as the hand on his hip finds the hand on his thigh, traces the tense veins along the back as her head slowly draws up, teeth grazing, tongue flat against his cock.

And then, down again, heavy breaths against his navel through the nose, and he’s in fucking bliss as the woman just goes on and on, deeper and deeper and when she gags, it almost makes him lose his already ill-tempered control because her fingers dig into the back of his hand, the other one squeezes the base of his cock, and stars explode behind his eyes as he chuckles breathlessly, blindly to the ceiling.

A ringing splinters through his skull as he groans, the need to thrust growing too powerful but she squeezes his hand, telling him to stay still without ever lifting her mouth off his cock. He can hear it, the sounds of her wet mouth rising and falling, sucking and licking and fuck, if he’s not going to come down her throat—

Her tongue drags along the underside of his cock as she pulls away, hollowing out her cheeks and dragging her fingers up his painfully hard erection, through the wet slick her mouth left behind and she pulls herself up, back bending underneath his hand, chest pressed flush against his and he can taste her again; the sweetness of vanilla, the sweat the pub brings all its occupants, the desire that fizzles so wantonly against his tongue.

“Am I still teasing?” she asks, lips brushing against his chin before he’s lifting his head again. Her hands run over his chest, find the planes of his shoulders, the cord of his neck, and he chuckles, squeezing his waist as she climbs into his lap again, sits squarely so that his erection rubs against her stomach. He bites back a groan and her smirk tells him all he needs to know.

“Seeing as you didn’t let me finish…” he trails off, just as humorous and she laughs, mouth ghosting his, and he almost reaches for it before she’s drawing back, always just out of reach. Never his. Never. “C’mere.”

“You’re no fun,” she mutters, but her smile betrays her faux displeasure and as his hands down and under her dress, skirting along the waistband of lacey panties, he chuckles huskily. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know. And do you know how much I want you? How much… how much I need you?” His fingers hook on the waistband and begin to tug just as she cups his face and leans down. His eyes flutter shut and everything seems to melt away as her breath tickles his nose and he grins, pulling down, down, down…

“You could show me, if you’d like…”

Her laughter is the only thing he can hear. Well, that and…

And that ringing—

Holy shit, what is that ringing?

Opening his eyes, there is nothing. Reaching blindly in the darkness, his hand collides with his alarm clock and he slaps the button, turning it off as he groans, turning the digital numbers towards him.

5:45AM

When did he get back? God, his head is pounding, and… he has to get up. Shit. His thoughts are a disorganized mess as he gets up, throwing off the blankets and it’s only then he’s painfully aware that he got… more than excited about his dream.

His dream that’s fading from his memory the longer he’s awake that he can barely remember any of it. Iit was at the bar last night? When did he even get back to the dorm?

Swinging his legs off the bed, he flicks the light on the nightstand, spotting a glass of water with a dissolving alka selzter tablet and a note. Grabbing it, he squints against the light as he reads the messy, uneven scrawl.

Stayed by your side all night because you sulked and got hammered. Like blackout drunk. Even outdrank me, buddy, which is fuckin impressive.

Wake me up for breakfast. I’m drunk.

Goodnight. And you’re welcome.

-E

Shaking his head, he downs the water despite how much his head throbs at the movement before he gets up and awkwardly palms the front of his boxers, trying to ignore how much it physically hurts that he’s not doing anything about it.

He needs to shower and take care of this.

Grabbing new clothes, Aaron glances at his snoring roommate and curses his routine of waking up so damn early. He collects his toiletries, and as he heads for the shower, he tries to think back on his dream, but it’s dissipating quicker by the second.

It was definitely at the bar, he thinks. Something about… he doesn’t know but something smelled and tasted sweet. What was I even doing at the bar?

Well, by the erection against his thigh, it’s safe to assume what he was dreaming about.

The question is more about the who.

Your eyes fly open and you lurch up on your bed.

Your whole body is burning as the remaining wisps of your dream begin to fade and you glance around yourself, disoriented. You could’ve sworn you weren’t in your bedroom for a second, but as you glance around, you know you are. You’re no longer in that dark place with blue lights that swung, figures blurry. That someone who was crouched in front of you, you think, is gone and his hands which had pulled your legs apart with gentle hesitation hadn’t left scorch marks, but they might as well have.

The sensation still lingers.

God, it feels like you haven’t slept a wink and as you slowly wake, your body rebooting, you become more filled with dread. Sighing heavily, you rub at your eyes and touch your cheeks, trying to remember what you did before sleeping.

I showered, went straight to bed. Didn’t go out… then… What’s happening? What was I even dreaming about?

It’s only then you become acutely aware of between your legs. The soaked, uncomfortable sensation, the strange tightness of your thighs.

Holy fuck. And about who?

Running a hand over the cold sheets, you shiver and get up, grabbing the unopened complimentary mini bottle of water you’d gotten from the plane from your bag.

As soon as you take one sip, you’re chugging it down, trying to alleviate the sweat gathering at the nape of your neck, slipping down your back. You feel oily and strangely empty, your heart racing as you toss the empty plastic into the trash can and head back towards the bed, reaching blindly for the light switch. Turning it on, you glance at the clock. 5:47 in the morning.

Charming.

In less than five hours, you’ll have to be heading down to the lobby and facing your best friend.

Why does that thought suddenly fill you with a terrible concoction of nerves, nausea, and cold shivers?

Trying to grasp the last remnants of your dream, you head for the bathroom to splash some water on your face and change your underwear, too bone-dead tired to even think about showering. Then, you head back to bed to try to get some sleep, but the heat seems to be more than skin-deep because despite the amount of splashing and patting of freezing water against an exhausted face, a terrible, sinking feeling twists your gut, making your knees weak.

What on Earth were you even dreaming about? You can’t even remember now except you feel utterly exhausted in the wake of it and the only hint of the content is the slick between your thighs.

Your sleep-addled brain eventually convinces any part of you still awake to just try to sleep, and as you slip into the covers, the faint but entirely unique scent of cologne, beer and smoke clings to your senses.

[THE PRESENT]

Really, it should be okay.

The hotel isn’t too sketchy, the lobby smells vaguely of lavender and cinnamon from one of those bath shop candles, and he shouldn’t be worried.

Why is he worried? His guts have been in knots since he’s woken up, his head feels like it's been dunked in water for hours and everything is swimming as he sits in the lobby, his palms sweating. Maybe it’s the hangover, but it feels heavier than that. Yes, his head is hammering, but there’s a strange upset in his gut, too.

Must’ve been something about that dream he can’t quite place. Just thinking about it makes his head beat even harder.

But, you had said ten o’clock.

Ten o’clock.

He looks at his wrist watch.

9:57

Time seems to be passing so slowly that he’s not sure the seconds even tick by as his knee begins to jiggle, his hands run flat against his jeans. When he can’t take the nervous ticking inside his chest, he gets up to pace, eyes darting to the staircase where you’d be coming down from.

Is he nervous about seeing you or excited? Is it both? Neither? Something else?

Aaron thinks he’s going to throw up. What if it’s awkward? After all, years between the last visit and now—in the summer, somehow they always just miss each other or there’s money problems or some other plan—things are bound to change.

It’s nerves. It has to be.

The door opens and he turns around to see you there, walking over to him with a dark jacket over a green shirt. It clashes wonderfully and you’re smiling like the sun lives in your heart and you’re smiling at him.

“What’s the deal with the jacket, George?” you tease, gesturing to his leather jacket.

“George?” he repeats easily, too easily. An overwhelming flood in his chest and you arch an eyebrow, grinning still, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “And here I thought I was John.” Your smile only grows and he feels like he can’t breathe and that’s when he knows he’s fucked.

As you adjust your own jacket, compliment him on his, and ask where he wants to go for breakfast, Aaron can’t help the terrible ache in his chest.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Shit.

He opens the door and you walk by, the smell of shampoo invading his entire space and he reels back, blinking. His breath hitches, his entire body stiffens.

Warm vanilla spice.

Oh, shit.

a/n: so, uh, sex dreams for the win? to be decided ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dont forget to reblog if u liked loves ❤️

TAGS: @withyoutilltheendofthismess @thebriarpatch @joemazzello-imagines @thisiscalm-andits-doctor @sera-wonderland @pity-mee @duvetsandpillows @roses-and-grasses @stainedpomegranatelips @angelsbabey @sansonnette @xxlovingfandomsxx @rachelxwayne @kingandrear @simsvetements @emery--nicole--morrison @genevievedarcygranger @mooneylupinblack @sercyan @forgottenword

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thisisawonderfulusername · 4 years ago

Text

let’s save the world

season one, episode five

five hargreeves x reader

summary: finally explaining what was going to happen to luther, as well as making a deal with the handler

trigger warnings: cursing,

word count: 6k

flashbacks are in italics

a/n: i’m sorry that this one took a bit longer than all the other chapters, i’ve just been busy with a bit more schoolwork lately lol. but i hope you enjoy it! i had fun writing it *3* plus it’s the longest thus far, so maybe that makes up for the time gap lmao

you couldn’t remember how long it’d been since you got stuck here. years. lots of them. years since you had last seen five- seen anyone at all. the seasons changed and all you were doing was surviving. it wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, but you were too afraid to just give up and die. so you kept going, hoping that one day you would escape this nightmare or just fall to the ground, the life finally drained from your body.

most of the days were spent alone. you remember the day you first saw another living being. a dog. a beautiful german shepard. you weren’t sure how she had survived the apocalypse, but you didn’t care. she was like a ray of light beaming down on you after you had been left alone in the dark for too long, the pitch black being all you remembered, until you saw her.

she was named miracle, for obvious reasons. she stayed with you throughout many years, as she had been just a few months, at most a year old. in the hot summer, where ashes blew through the air in the wind, you found her some of those doggy goggles, to protect her eyes from the smoke and ash. in the winter, when it was freezing cold and snowing almost every day, sometimes to the point of not being able to travel at all, you would wrap her in as many blankets or put as many clothes made for dogs that you could find just to keep her warm. sometimes, you even carried her for hours, sometimes even a whole day. you swore she was the reason you kept your strength- both physical and mental.

she had been your delores. but you didn’t fall in love with her, of course- and she was actually a real, living thing. you were extremely lucky to have found her.

when she inevitably died and you were left alone again, you were beginning to think it was the end of your days. your hair had grayed, and you felt tired. tired of searching for your next meal, for a place to take shelter in a storm or a blizzard that was impossible to navigate.

you were ready to give up at that point. your fear of death was dwindling. you had given up hope of finding five again. who knew where he was? if he was dead? if he had went back to your time and totally forgot you? every once in a while, he would pop up in your mind, and you would think about him for hours, just wondering. but never hoping.

you remember the day you got everything back. it had started with fear, but ended with you getting a nice haircut, a shower, and some new clothes. the world was even kind enough to give five back. you thought it was all a dream and you had finally died, but you hadn’t.

it was when you were walking, yet again. your hiking pack that you were lucky to have found slowed you from all of the weight it held, but every last bit of that burden was important.

you thought you were seeing things at first, when you noticed the figure of a woman in the distance. you had pulled your pistol out of the holster resting against your thigh, prepared to shoot if it happened to be real. you didn’t know what it would be. a monster, some other survivor who may try to steal your supplies- you didn’t know, but you also didn’t care. if it was living, it was a threat.

as you got closer, the hand gun clutched tightly in your hand, you saw that it was a woman. certainly, she hadn’t been surviving in this apocalypse like you had. she was well groomed, hair in perfect curls with makeup done to perfection and a nice dress adorning her body. no, this was your eyes playing tricks on you. it was impossible for her to exist.

you had finally gone truly insane, after all these years.

you had awoken to a pounding headache and a terrible pain in your thigh, groaning as you buried your face into the pillow beneath your head. there was a conversation happening around you, but you tuned it out, trying to focus on the pain slowly dulling and everything you felt around you.

you were laying on a bed, that much was obvious. another obvious thing you noticed was the fact that your arm was wrapped around something- or, someone.

finally lifting your head, you squinted as you saw five’s back to you. your arm had been wrapped around his waist. sitting up, you quickly remove it, feeling a bit of heat on your face which you ignored.

“finally, you’re awake.” five interrupted the exchange between him and luther, turning to look at you as you scooted to sit by his side, running your fingers through your messy hair to fix it up.

after yawning softly, you nod, “i sure am.” you mumble, thankful that the pounding in your head had dimmed to a slight ache that you could easily ignore. your leg still felt like it was on fire, but you felt that you could suck it up and deal with it for now. “what’re you guys talking about?”

luther seemed serious, and you had a feeling you already knew, you just needed some confirmation. “the end of the world.” he states simply, and you nod, your suspicions correct. “so the eye’s a dead end?” he questions, handing the glass back to the boy, who nods.

before you can even get a word in, the door slams open, causing you to practically jump out of your skin, standing from the bed as diego storms in. “you have any idea what you two did?” he questions loudly, and just before he can do anything to either of you, luther grabs him, his feet dangling over the floor. he yells at him to put him down, but he doesn’t back down, waiting until he calmed down.

“wanna tell us what the hell you’re on about?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed as you take your seat once again, fully awake now from the scare.

diego looked at the two of you, the anger he held clear. you would be scared if you didn’t have the ability to burn him to a crisp, but, you did. “these two have been pretty busy since they got back.” he points a finger at you guys accusingly, and you roll your eyes, “they were in the middle of the shootout at griddy’s, and then at gimble brothers, and when those guys attacked the academy, they were looking for them.”

“actually, i wasn’t a part of the gimble brothers one. that was all him.” you wave a hand in five’s direction, but it doesn’t change the fact that diego is pissed. “and either way, it isn’t of your concern what we’ve been doing.”

“it is now.” diego breathes heavily, shaking his head, “they killed my friend.”

now that, you weren’t totally expecting. sure, the commission was ruthless and did whatever it took to carry out a mission, but how did his friend get into the middle of all of this? luther turned back to look at the two of you, urging you to explain.

sighing softly as he looked to the floor for a moment, five gave them what they wanted. “they work for our former employer.” he begins, lacing his fingers together in front of him, “a woman called the handler. she sent them to stop us.”

nodding slowly, you lean back on your hands, “soon as your friend got in the way, they were fair game.” you shrug.

“well, now they’re my fair game.” diego speaks lowly, “and they’re gonna pay.” he turns to leave, already making his way to the still open door.

five tries to stop him, explaining that it would be a mistake, which you fully agreed with due to the extensive training all the assassins went through at the commission. he didn’t listen, simply closing the door behind him.

it was silent for a moment, before luther spoke again. “former employer?” he questions, an eyebrow raising, “what's this really about? and don’t give me the ‘it’s none of your business’ crap, okay?”

“it’s a long story.”

the woman waved. you still couldn’t believe this. it took you all these years, and you thought you would be able to keep your sanity, yet here you were.

“who the hell are you?” you yell out, slowly walking towards her, the pistol still ready to fire if she tried something. if she was even real. which wasn’t possible. “tell me why i shouldn’t shoot!”

“i’m here to help.” she tells you simply, also walking forward with the both of you stopping a few feet away from each other. you wanted to keep enough distance in case she had some sort of melee weapon, or if she made a move, you could shoot and run. “if you shoot me, you wouldn’t hear the offer i’m about to make.”

your eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you gesture for her to continue, which she does. “i work for an organization. the commission.” she begins, taking off the shaded glasses that she wore and sticking them in the pocket of her dress. “we are tasked with the preservation of the time continuum through manipulation and removals.”

lowering the gun a bit, you purse your lips. “what the hell do you mean?”

“sometimes people make choices that alter time.” she explains in more simple terms, crossing her arms, “when that happens, we dispatch one of our agents to... eliminate the threat.”

hearing that, you’re immediately on guard again, raising the pistol in a heartbeat. she waves a hand, chuckling as she dismisses what you had thought. “no, no, you misunderstood. you’re not a target, y/n.” you don’t remember giving her your name, which worries you, but you ignore it for now. “i would like to recruit you. i’m offering you a job.”

lowering the gun, you drop it to your side, not knowing what to say for a moment. that doesn’t matter, because she does.

“we’ve had our eye on you for a while, and you have potential. survival skills, fire manipulation... we’ve even found another like you, who’s been here for just as long.”

your eyes widen at the mention of another who’s been here, and your heart leaps. “five?” if he was actually alive after all your hope was gone... you didn’t know what you would do.

“well, what a surprise, you know him.” she smiles, “it will be a happy reunion, then. but, you will have to give five years of service, after that your contract will end. you’ll be able to retire to the time and place of your choice.”

you had many questions. you could feel your heart beating out of your chest at the thought of being able to get out of this nightmare, to see five again. looking at her, you don’t even think. “i’m in.” you tell her breathlessly, and she grins at your agreement.

that was how you became one of the best assassins at the commission. a decision you weren’t sure you regretted or not.

“we were partners.” five tells him after explaining everything about the commission, even how the handler had found him. you didn’t bother with your story. it was practically the same. “the whole time i was trying to find out the right equation to get back. to stop the apocalypse. save everyone.”

looking up from the floor, where you had been lost in thought being brought back to those times, you clear your throat. “when he figured it out, we broke our contracts. but of course he got the equation wrong.”

rolling his eyes, five hits your arm. “so you two were hit men?” luther questions, earning a shared nod of confirmation. “well... you didn’t just kill anyone, right? you had some code?”

“no code.” five tells him, “we took out anyone who messed with the timeline.”

“what about the innocent people?”

“that was the only way we could get back here.” you mutter, your gaze fixed on the floor as you played with your fingers.

luther seemed surprised. “but that’s murder!” he contests.

“jesus, luther, grow up.” five responds, and you could tell he was starting to lose his patience with him. “we’re not kids anymore. there are no good guys and bad guys. there’s just people, living their lives.”

you purse your lips, “when the world ends, those people die.” you add on, your tone softer, “including your family.” luther looks at you, quiet and still taking in everything. you sigh softly, “time changes everything.”

the tapping of chalk against the walls was something you had quickly learned to tune out over the past few hours. at first, you wanted to rip your head off because of the constant sound, but staring out the window at everything outside helped take your focus off of it.

when the scribbling stopped, it was easy to notice, even if you weren’t listening in the first place. it’s a hard thing to explain. the difference between the sound of something and choosing not to hear it and the absence of that sound was just... different.

“i think i found something, delores.” five mutters to the mannequin, and you roll your eyes as you stand and move to look up at all the equations that now covered the wall.

crossing your arms over your chest, you try to make sense of everything, but it’s way too complicated for you to understand- plus it was scribbled everywhere over the wall and you weren’t sure what gave him what he needed. “sure, tell her but not me.” you grin as he turns to look at you.

“it’s a habit.” he says simply, shrugging and looking back to the blackboard the equations littered.

footsteps out in the hall catch your attention, and you turn to see luther standing in the doorway, just as confused as you by everything on the walls. “what is all this?”

you move to sit on the bed next to where five stood, sighing softly. “a probability map.” he still looks just as confused as before, and you nod, “i understand just as much as you do, buddy.”

“a probability map of what?” he questions, looking to five for the answer now. that much you hadn’t cared to ask. you figured he would explain it when he figured it out, as that was just how he was.

he continues to mark different things on the map, only taking a glance towards the large man. “of whose death could save the world. i’ve narrowed it down to four people.”

of course he had found some way to get a clue on what might stop the apocalypse. he was just that smart. “so, you’re saying one of them ends the world?” he asks, and you and five both sigh in exasperation.

“no, luther.” you lay back, looking at one of the equations by your head and trying to understand at least a little bit of it. “he’s saying their death could save the world. they probably don’t have anything to do with the actual event.”

the man breathes out an “oh.” watching for a moment, before leaning in slightly. “i’m not following.” he mumbles, and you roll your eyes.

“the slightest change in what happens can alter the outcomes in the time continuum.” you explain, glad that you understand one thing as you sit back up to look at him. “the butterfly effect, basically.”

five nods, motioning in your direction. “exactly. all i need to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and, well-” he finally turns to look at him. “kill them.”

apparently finally finished with the complicated map, he gets off of the bed and places the chalk on the small table beside it, grabbing vanya’s book he had been using for notes and presumably writing the names down.

luther moves to look at the four circled, eyes squinting a bit. “milton green.” he reads off, looking to the younger- well, younger looking, “is he a terrorist or something?”

“i believe he’s a gardener.” five corrects, setting the book down once he was finished and reaching under the bed, pulling out a gun and pulling the zipper to open it up.

“wha- this is madness.” luther says, turning to look back to him, his eyes widening when he saw the gun, “where did you get that?”

he glances up at him, “dad’s room.” he picks the gun up, examining it. “similar to what i used at work. nice shoulder fit, reliable.”

“you can’t-” luther stumbles for words, surprised by what five was planning to do, “this guy, milton, he’s an innocent man!”

you groan softly as you stand up, looking up at the significantly taller man. “it’s basic math- to five, at least,” you shrug your shoulders, “his death could potentially save the lives of billions of people. he’d be dead in four days anyway. the apocalypse won’t save anyone.”

“we don’t do this kind of thing.”

“we are not doing anything, luther.” five argues, glaring at him, “i am. with y/n’s help, of course.” you smile slightly.

luther was clearly not going to back down, and you were beginning to get annoyed. he was wasting precious time. “i can’t let you kill innocent people, no matter how many people it saves.”

five shrugs, “good luck stopping me.” he turns to leave and you do the same, but luther is quick to try and do exactly that, grabbing delores and holding her out the window.

when you turn to see what he’s doing, you cringe, “not a good idea.” the gun is already pointed at him. sure, it was a bit overkill, but when it came to delores, five was ready to do anything. you still weren’t sure why, especially when you were back here and he had actual people around him. years of sanity were lost, though, so you assumed that was why he hasn’t gotten it back.

“i suggest you put her down.” you lace your fingers together, rocking on your heels slightly. you definitely didn’t want to see five blow his brother’s brains out over a mannequin.

luther doesn’t seem phased by the threat. “put the gun down.” he counters, nodding towards him, “you’re not killing anyone. don’t make me do this. it’s her or the gun.”

ultimatums. you’ve always hated them. what good was making someone choose between two things?

when five didn’t choose, luther didn’t hesitate in moving to throw the fake women, and the gun clatters to the ground as five jumped to save her. luther had moved towards the gun, quicker than you thought he could move. when he picks it up, you sigh softly. this time, five working on that map, luther stopping you two. you couldn’t get that time back.

“i can do this all day.” luther states, and you roll your eyes as you snatch the gun from his side.

he moves to grab it back from you and you glare at him, “don’t even try it. unlike your brother, i won’t hesitate to shoot you.” you take a few steps towards the bed, putting the gun back in it’s case after unloading it.

five was having a weird, tender moment with delores. honestly, you felt like you shouldn’t have been in the room to see it. “i know you’re still a good person, five.” luther tells him, while you zip the case back up. “you wouldn’t have come back here to save us all if you weren’t.”

you hated him, but the monkey man had a point. of course five didn’t care about the whole world. he just cared about his family. who wouldn’t want to save the people they grew up with?

“you’re not alone. we can help you.” well, that kind of hurt your feelings. it was as if you didn’t exist to him.

five sighs, looking back towards him. “there is one way.” you whipped your head towards him, slightly surprised. what was he thinking? “it’s close to impossible, though.”

“more impossible than what brought you two back here?” he raised an eyebrow, and you looked down at the plain covers on the bed, tapping your fingers against the fabric for a moment as you thought.

maybe it would work.

the car rolled to a stop on the old, empty road. you sat in the back, in the middle of the seat, leaning forward with your elbows resting on your knees. your foot tapped against the floor, almost without you realizing it. you were paranoid. this could get the both of you killed, if it all went south. you just had to hope that it didn’t

“i never enjoyed it.” five states, causing both you and luther to look at him in confusion. the whole ride had been silent, which you found incredibly uncomfortable, but maybe it was just the anxiety. “the killing,” he explains at your confusion, “i was good at my job, took pride in it. but it never gave me pleasure.”

pursing your lips, you look to your foot, which continued it’s tapping. “it would take a freak to enjoy that job.” you mutter, shaking your head and sighing softly, “i’m sure some of them did, though.”

five nods slightly, glancing back at you for a moment, “i think it was all those years alone.” he theorizes, “solitude can do weird things to the mind.”

tell that to delores.

luther hums slightly, “yeah, well you were gone for a long time. i was only on the moon for four years, but that was more than enough.” you never would have thought you would actually have something in common with the monkey man. sure, your experience was much worse, but he knew what you felt all those years ago. “it’s the being alone that gets you.”

there’s a moment of silence, before luther speaks again. “well, do you think they’ll buy it?” soft moment over, apparently, as he pats the case that sat between them. it was close enough in resemblance to the commission cases, so you assumed from far away, it would be believable.

“well, they’re desperate.” five tells him, and you nod, though they don’t see it since neither of them were looking towards you.

“losing that case is like a cop losing his gun.” you tell him, sitting up slightly, “the commission finds out, they’re in deep shit. plus they’ll be stuck here without it.” you shrug.

luther pulls the case to his side, “i should hold it. in case they try to make a move on you.”

five hesitantly nods, “okay, but be careful.” he tells him, “i’ve lived a long life. you’re still a young man, you have your whole life ahead of you. don’t waste it.”

you can’t help the short laugh from what he said. seeing who looked to be a thirteen year old boy tell a man in his late twenties, maybe, you weren’t totally sure, to not waste his life. it was hilarious.

his eyebrows furrowed together, five looks back at you. “what are you laughing at?”

a grin on your face, you shake your head, still giggling a bit. “nothing. just so wise beyond your years, five.” you laugh even more as he rolls his eyes, leaning back into the seat as you calm yourself.

once you had gathered yourself, you noticed the car that was coming towards where you guys had parked along the side of the road, and you sighed softly. fun time is over, now to get back to business.

you all got out of the car as they drove past and parked a little ways away. the wind blew your hair into your face and you quickly pushed it away, scrunching your nose up as you watched them get out of the car, their masks on.

“if this all goes sideways,” five turns to tell luther, also catching your attention, “tell delores i’m sorry.”

rolling your eyes, you slap his arm, “c’mon, mannequin lover. nothing will happen. hopefully.” you shrug, sticking your hands in your pockets and quickly moving to meet the other two half way, him quickly following behind you.

as you got closer, five motioned to the masks covering their faces. “are those really necessary?” he asks, and without saying a word, they both take them off, throwing them to the side. if you didn’t have to make a deal with them, you would shove a piece of glass in their leg, show them how it feels. but no, right now you have to play nice.

“where’s the case?” cha cha asks, getting straight to the business.

sighing, you shake your head. “that’s how you’re gonna start?” you raise an eyebrow, glancing back to where luther stood, “you know, we can leave, get back in the car and drive off.”

the woman is quick to pull out a gun, and you roll your eyes. these recruits, always so quick to resort to violence. “you won’t even get halfway.” she threatens, and you simply roll your eyes.

“maybe. but as i’m sure you already found out,” five speaks, his eyebrows raising slightly, “my brother is not your average giant.”

hazel leans to the side slightly towards her, “he’s right. dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up.” your lips press together at the mention. you definitely did not get right back up. well- you did, but you were actually injured, unlike the larger man.

“he’ll smash your precious briefcase before you can even take him out.” you imitate an explosion with your hands, quietly making the sound that would accompany it. they didn’t seem as amused as you were.

“probably us too, right?” hazel speaks again, motioning with the gun he held, “so how do we help each other out here?”

of course, five was ready to tell them what you two needed. “get in contact with your superior. we need to have a chat, face to face.”

cha cha looks slightly confused by the demand, tilting her head to the side for a moment, “about what?”

“what does it matter to you?” you raise an eyebrow, “you need the briefcase, so just do it.”

she purses her lips but sighs, shaking her head. “just don’t tell her about it.”

five shrugs, “fair enough.”

finally putting the gun she had pointed at the two of you down, the woman turned around, walking over to an old pay phone along the side of the road near where they parked. hazel followed, but didn’t turn his back on the two of you, and you did the same as you followed five’s footsteps.

when you got back to the car, you stood next to five, who leaned against the hood of the car. luther moved to stand next to the two of you. “what happens now?” he questions, all of your gazes trained on the commission workers who stood by their own car after getting in contact with the boss.

“now, we wait.” five tells him, one of his hands stuck in his pocket.

it felt like hours that you stood there, just having a staring contest with the two contracted to presumably kill you both. it was really only a few minutes, and the silence that hung in the air was broken by the sound of a light melody playing in the distant, and all of you finally looked away from each other to look for the source.

having to squint slightly, you saw an ice cream truck in the distance, slowly making it’s way towards you. why the hell would an ice cream truck be in the middle of nowhere? you knew it wasn’t the handler, so you didn’t know what or who it could be.

when it got closer, you saw klaus at the wheel, a grin on his face as he waved at all of you. you managed to catch a glimpse of diego in the seat next to him, and your confusion only grew.

“what the fuck? why are they here?” you ask, watching as the truck sped up a bit, “how did they even find out where we are?”

before you can get an answer, the two assassins had already lifted their guns and started shooting. eyes widening, you swung the car door open, as it was the closest and first thing you thought of, jumping behind it to avoid the bullets. a sharp pain shot up your leg and you hissed slightly, but ignored it.

after only a second of the shots ringing out, everything went silent. you had your knees to your chest, head tucked between them and your arms, and you were totally confused from the sudden pause.

“shit.” you muttered to yourself, not wanting to lift your head and see what had happened, “did i die? am i fucking dead right now?” you weren’t ready for death yet. you thought you were, but you are certainly not.

your cycle of thoughts was interrupted when you felt someone yank at your arm, and you jumped slightly, finally lifting your head from it’s place. you sigh in relief when it’s five, “you’re not dead.” he deadpans, and you roll your eyes as you grab his hand to pull yourself up, wincing at the burning of your thigh.

once you were up, you turned to face the music and see what the hell had happened. your eyebrows furrowed when you saw that everything was... frozen.

slowly walking by five’s side towards the two adults stuck in the air, you glance at him for a moment. “are you sure?” you mumble, before another voice cuts in.

“neat trick, right?” you both turn and your shoulders slump as you see the same woman from all those years ago, when she felt like a savior, taking you out of the apocalypse. as the two of you take a few steps towards her, she takes the glasses she wore off, holding them in her hand and having that same, awful smile on her face.

“hello, five. y/n.” she motions to your thirteen year old selves, “you two look good. all things considered.”

sighing silently to yourself, you decide you’ll let five do the talking for a bit. “it’s good to see you again.” he speaks, and you look to the road as you scrunch your nose up. it definitely is not.

“feels like just yesterday i met the two of you.” she hums, and you roll your eyes to yourself, “of course, you guys were a bit older then. congratulations, by the way,” she points to you guys, circling her finger a bit, “on the age regression. clever of you. threw us off.”

you snort, “if only he had done that on purpose.” you grin, sticking your hands in your pockets as you glance to the boy, who was clearly annoyed with you. “he got the equations wrong, if you can even believe that.”

“i just miscalculated the time dilation projections.” he shakes his head, “not like you could have done any better.” you shrug your shoulders, not having an argument for that. he was absolutely right on that front, because you sure as hell didn’t understand a single thing he ever did with all the crazy equations and probability maps and everything like that.

the handler waves her hands to the side, “you realize your efforts are futile.” she states, putting her hands behind her back, “so why don’t you tell me what you really want.”

“put a stop to it.” you say almost immediately, lacing your fingers together, “the apocalypse.”

she shakes her head slightly, “you realize what you’re asking is next to impossible, even for me.” her eyebrows raise as she speaks, “what’s meant to be, is meant to be. that’s our raison d'être.”

five lifts the hand gun he had been keeping close, his expression showing no emotion whatsoever. “how about survival as a raison?” he raises his eyebrows in a mocking way, the smallest smirk tugging at his lips.

she isn’t threatened by it, dismissing it. “i’ll just be replaced. i’m but a small cog in a machine.” she twirls her finger, “this fantasy about summoning your family, five, to stop the apocalypse,” she starts to step closer, and you stiffen slightly, “it’s just that. a fantasy.”

the handler manages to make you so angry without even genuinely insulting or seeming rude in any way. she says everything in such a light voice that you would expect to be saying anything that’s only kind, but she said the opposite. small jabs at you two without outright calling you out.

“i must say, though,” she continues after a moment, continuing her slow steps, “we’re all quite impressed. your initiative, stick-to-itiveness... really something.” she smiles slightly, “which is why we want to offer the both of you new positions back at the commission. management positions.”

five is just as muddled as you are by the offer. there must be some ulterior motive to this. “sorry, what was that?” he raises an eyebrow, letting out a small, breathy laugh.

she straightens slightly, “come back to work for us. it’s where you belong, we both know it.”

“didn’t work out too well last time.” you assert, tilting your head as you raise your eyebrows. you weren’t about to agree to something like that. unless five seemed to have some idea about it being a good idea, you wouldn’t do it. not in a million years.

the woman seems set on getting you back, though. “but you wouldn’t be in the corrections department anymore.” she explains, expressing with her hand, “i’m talking, the home office. best health and pension, and an end to all this travel. you two are distinguished professionals in,” she looks the both of you up and down, “school uniforms.” she chuckles.

finally being only a few feet away, she pushes the gun five held down. “we have the technology to reverse this process.” she tries to convince, “you can’t be happy like that.”

five’s jaw is slightly clenched as he stares right into her eyes. “we’re not looking for happy.”

her smile is soft, but you feel like she’s trying to deceive you- she always gave off that vibe, though. “we’re all looking for happy.” she looks between you two, “we can make that happen. you guys can be yourselves again.”

five lets out a short breath, finally fully putting the gun down, “and what about my family?” he questions, gesturing around to his siblings who were still frozen in their place.

“what about them?”

you can’t help but glare at her, “you know what. he wants them to survive.”

she takes a deep breath in, looking over to luther, his arms raised in the air with the fake briefcase in hand, before to the ice cream truck, where klaus sat in front of the wheel, his eyes wide, and diego looked to be in pain or as if he was cursing for some reason. she finally looks back to five. “all of them?” she questions, and you hold back another eye roll.

“yes, all of them.” five tells her, stating the obvious.

she nods, starting to put the sunglasses back on, “well, i’ll see what i can do.” she then holds her hand out, an eyebrow raising from behind the shaded lenses, “do we have a deal?”

the boy grabs your hand, ready to accept, but before he can, you glance to the side. “wait.” you hold a finger up, pulling away and walking towards the two corrections recruits. they both watch as you grab the gun that hazel had dropped when the truck had hit them, pulling the magazine out of it and throwing it as hard as you can to the side, before doing the same with the now unloaded pistol to the opposite side.

as you start to head back, five notices the bullet that had been frozen as well, heading in luther’s direction. silently, he walks towards it and moves it so it wouldn’t actually hit him.

you two meet back in front of the handler, hands already reaching for each other as you take a deep breath to prepare yourself for what would happen.

the next moment, you’re all gone, time continuing on it’s own.

taglists

main: @horrorklaus

tua: @rasberrymay

five: @anapocalypseinmymind @five-hargreeves-official @insatiable-ivy @coffee-e-addict @xplrreylo

let's save the world @aspiringwriter1 @thetrashypanda423 @lilacs-lavender @academy-umbrella @xplrreylo @ohmyitsfaith @onedollarduck @sleepygal124 @fandomfreakff

if you’d like to be added to any taglists, just ask!

#tua x reader #tua #umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #series #reader insert #lstw #let's save the world

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lovemeafterhrs · 4 years ago

Text

friends w benefits | k. kenma (end)

chapter 19: you can fall in love with anyone

fun fact: bro this is the last one.. my heart cant handle it but i just want to thank all of you for all of your support with the series. you all are SO important to me and im so glad that you guys came along with me on the fwb! kenma rollercoaster. see yall in the next one! (or when i post a new smau at the end of the week lmao)

~~~~

the night had started out relatively tame. light hearted games had turned much more heated as bokuto carried nora away in his arms to keep her away from killing kenma.

in the corner sat miyuki, typing out his obituary as kuroo tried to convince him to talk to the girl he’d been avoiding the whole night.

at that current moment, said girl was sitting on kuroo’s balcony as loud vibrations from the music boomed behind her.

tetsurou sent a sharp look to a petrified kenma, who was busy wondering if he could disappear from the situation without anyone noticing.

he’d admitted his feelings many times, and sat stone cold as he awaited her rejection. he didn’t want to say the words again. he didn’t want to lose the connection they had.

as much as he hated just being friends, he didn’t want to ruin the dynamic that he found himself becoming more and more fond of. he just wanted to be in her presence, even if that meant drowning the butterflies in his chest just to see her smile.

he didn’t know what answer he was seeking, or how the events would play out when they existed outside of his mind.

his mind began to lose track of the daydreams, and the possibilities left him with more questions than answers.

by the time he convinced himself to step onto the balcony, everyone in the room had already gathered around the window to witness his confession.

“uh.. can i sit here?” he cursed himself for being so nervous, but the light nod from her was enough to get him to sit next to her on the dark wood bench.

he’d never known her to be so quiet, but they sat together in silence and enjoyed the muffled slow song that echoed behind them. it was something out of a movie, but he feared that it wouldn’t have the ending that he’d been dreaming of.

“hey kenma?” she asked, and her voice was so hushed that he almost didn’t hear her. when he replied, she moved to wrap her arms around her legs, her head resting on her knees as she looked out to the dark blue skyline.

“do you believe in love? like the stupid, illogical, makes no sense kind of love that leaves you wondering what life’s really like?”

“i think i do..” he paused, and she looked up at him with a look in her eyes that gifted him with the urge to pass out on the spot. “why, are you in love or something?”

“i don’t think so.” she watched his demeanor drop as she turned away from him, facing the dark sky once again. “i think i could be though, eventually. i still have a lot to work on, but i wouldn’t mind being in love again. it’s only moderately inconvenient.”

“moderately inconvenient? how so?” they were laughing now, and the stress that pressed itself firmly onto his shoulders lifted as soon as he heard her small giggle.

“i don’t know.. admitting feelings is kinda stupid. being that open with someone who could just tell you to fuck off is absolutely terrifying.” her choice of words cut through him like a knife as he observed the cloud of guilt forming over her.

“you know, i’m really glad that you didn’t tell me to fuck off.” she laughed at his joke lightly as she rushed to wipe her eyes. “i’m really relieved that we’re talking again. i got used to our dynamic sooner than i thought, and animal crossing just didn’t hit the same.”

“i don’t think that’s gonna be a problem again anytime soon.” one smile was all that it took to revive the butterflies deep in his chest that he’d been stomping on for the last few weeks.

he was confused now, throwing out a soft “what do you mean?” she rolled her eyes at him, and she watched his lips form into a pout from the corner of her eye.

“i don’t know.. that maybe i want to be more than whatever this is? but who knows honestly, could mean a lot of things.” she was fucking with him now, and he knew it. “you still haven’t taken me on that date.”

“was getting coffee not a date?”

“i was in my pajamas. not a date.” he stuck his tongue out at her in response and was met with a playful glare in his direction.

“what do you want to do then?” he asked, and she looked at him like he’d just burned through his last two functioning brain cells.

“i don’t know kenma, you’re the boyfriend.”

“i’m the boyfriend?” surprise displayed against his normally quiet exterior and his smile was contagious

“..uh.. duh, i thought we went over this?”

“we didn’t but.. does that mean i can kiss you whenever now?” her cheeks scorched under the pressure of her hands as she nodded and covered her face. “you’re never this flustered, did i say something?”

“no, i just want you to kiss me idiot.”

and he did, standing on his balcony in front of all of their friends. gagging sounds could be heard from behind the glass panels, but he didn’t care as he pulled her closer.

why dont we go somewhere only we know?

masterlist:

taglist: @bby-bokuto @jazzofmine @beanst0ck @jaegersblogh @cuddlesslut @deimmortales99 @neomuxuxi @ladymartiini @kathya420 @paripedia a @sugassimp @moonlightaangel @momoinot @mochahyuck @idiot-juice-enthusiast @jiminscarmex @teenlife1599 @fourelementskal @breaking-ur-kneecaps @intohobiverse @aizawasthotty @badbyeyoongi @animeanxiety @stfucanunot @inuroku @animefan7420 @matamiskookie @neouihobi @iixyia @iloveanime691 @dancing-in-the-rain54 @kageyamasbabygorl @peachymochimochi @todobruhski @flrtykawas @krxstynnn @jiminifiess

#haikyuu x reader #kenma kozume #kenma smau #kenma x reader #haikyuu smau #fwb! kenma #fwb finale

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kurisus · 4 years ago

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Chapter 88-2 thoughts

I’m writing this at 6 AM because I CAN’T SLEEP WOO. As mentioned in my snaps, I first read this chapter while in a work call so I’m rereading it now to be able to focus a bit better. Buckle up, this will be long. Spoilers as always.

So Yukine was not necessarily snuggling with the wolves. He was asking them to eat him. I think in all the other bad stuff happening this chapter this detail got overlooked slightly but it’s bad!!!!

Who was the shadow we saw approaching him when he was with the wolves?? Was it trash dad after all? I think it has to be.

really don’t appreciate the Suzuha mention in THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND AND TWENTY

Yukine was such a caring brother it makes my heart hurt. Yukine in general makes my heart hurt. How did it end up happening that his mom just left him behind??

so if Fujisaki is telling the truth, we now know the context of Yukine’s death. And somehow, I think this is the most unpleasant revelation to come out of this chapter. Big statement, I know, but it explains...a lot.

Yukine was writing letters to his sister in secret for probably years, and as soon as his dad found out...well, we know the rest. I remember speculating (and a few others did too) why Yukine was barefoot and not struggling in that panel a couple chapters back that showed his final moments. So if he was already beaten enough to warrant hospitalization, that would explain why he wasn’t reacting the way he should have been.

At this point, if trash dad WAS telling the truth, I’d be fine if they didn’t show the actual scene of his death and just left it at that. Which means...we now know everything about Yukine’s time when he was alive. And of course there’s a lot we can say to fill out the gaps, but we have all the most important details. Finding out exactly how he died was the last piece in the puzzle. Aside from his full first name, that is.

Yukine yelling at trash dad to shut up and him continuing on anyway :) we really needed to know his final thoughts were “why?” :) I hate it here :)

I really hate even talking about this, this shit is FUCKED

okay so as far as trash dad is aware, Yukine’s body was still in the fridge. Meaning he had no idea that Yato went to dig it up all those months ago. Meaning Nora never breathed a word about it to him. I don’t really know how to express my feelings on this but thank you Nora. we owe you one. I have a feeling trash dad’s intent was not to give him a proper burial (since he’s all about false shows of kindness), though as to what it was, I cannot say.

I think at this point it’s pretty clear that Yato is the one who gave him a proper burial. When the panel of the empty refrigerator dropped a few months back, the fact that the body was missing struck me as just odd, and I thought maybe Yukine’s dad dug it back up for some sort of weird ritual, but judging by what we know now, that doesn’t seem likely. As soon as people started saying Yato buried him I was smacking my face like “of COURSE that’s what happened duh”

so trash dad is confirmed to drop his body in a very similar way to Hiyori, and we also confirmed that the version of him in the black robe is his spirit form. Nora mentioned his “body” a while back but now we finally got to see it. Is he a half ayakashi?? Is this just something he can do because he’s possessing Fujisaki’s body??? gah Adachitoka I want ANSWERS

Hagusa’s vessel name is just a double whammy. It’s like a horrible inversion of the fact that Yato named Kazuma Kazune. “Kazune” has the double meaning of referring to their time limit as well as being the “Kazu” Yato was already familiar with. With Hagusa, that name refers to a type of grain that looks like rice...in other words, something that appears valuable but is worthless. And now we see the vessel name is Yuuki? Adachitoka galaxy brained to punch me in the face.

SO THE REASON YUKINE DOESN’T HAVE A CELL PHONE IS BECAUSE HE DIED BEFORE THEY WERE INVENTED???? I always thought it was because he didn’t need one since Yato, Hiyori, Kazuma, and Kofuku were really the only people he needed to communicate with. but he seemed really excited to use trash dad’s. I’m in pain.

I’m thinking back to when Hiyori almost asked Yukine how he died way back in the beginning of the manga and trash dad now telling Yukine “Hiyori never wanted to know? I bet she did, since humans always want to pry into other people’s business” you shut your mouth

Speaking of Hiyori all we got of her this chapter was her looking pissed off. When she arrives to the fight I just want her to fuck shit up. She may not have her half ayakashi form but she can still snap trash dad’s neck in half.

Perhaps the reason Yukine didn’t find any news articles about himself was because “Haru” was just a nickname. I find it hard to believe that there was nothing about him going missing, especially since his dad made a fuss with putting up missing person flyers everywhere. There’s no way the police wouldn’t have gotten involved, right?

Either way it doesn’t really matter--his dad never got charged with anything even if he was a suspect, and no one else cared enough to look either.

this is so many levels of fucked

“So even now my father is still killing me” this line. THIS LINE. THIS FUCKING LINE. It’s such a succinct and excellent summary of Yukine as a character--as much as we love our son, the fact remains that he is dead. And he is dead because of his father’s abuse and society’s neglect. So no matter however much he grows and changes in the afterlife, it cannot change that his life was cut short far too soon, and everything good that happens to him is overshadowed by the fact that it’s indirectly because of his nasty father. And he got away with it. I can’t.

Before this chapter came out I speculated we’d want to strangle Yukine’s dad even more than we already did. and I was right. but holy shit this line was a kick in the gut while I’m still recovering from “that boy loved people”

Yukine loved people too....he loved people and they turned their backs on him BUT HE NEVER GAVE UP ON LOVING!!! IT JUST TOOK A DIFFERENT SHAPE. FUCK.

So Father knows someone visited the fridge. I wonder if he’s figured out that it was Hiyori yet. I just want her to snap him like a twig. it’s what he deserves.

Father also doesn’t care about Yukine, like, at all (we been knew), to the point he couldn’t even realize the only blond character in this fucking manga now has black hair. MAN. that just says a lot about him, huh.

Are we going to find out whether one of his parents was foreign?? He and Yuka are both noticeably light-haired and it hasn’t been addressed aside from Yukine’s hair color changing.

The hair color change was the only spoiler I saw before the chapter came out and it’s been haunting me ever since. I thought initially Yukine dyed his hair while trash dad was out, but now I wonder if the dark hair is his vessel form? Fujisaki summoned him before leaving, so I don’t know. He does look like his bird ayakashi form with having clawed hands as well.

I remember seeing speculation that trash dad generally tells the truth. well as of this chapter we know he’s a fucking liar. Hiyori left that flower, and I think it will end up being important in the long run when Yukine realizes that she’s the only human who truly cares about him.

Whether trash dad has been telling the truth about other things remains to be seen. We still don’t know how he got out of Yomi, if that’s really what happened to make him immortal. But this lie about the flower seems to be a white lie. He could have just said he didn’t know. If he so readily lied about this, who’s to say he hasn’t been lying about other things too, you know?

Yukine destroying the fridge would normally make me be like good for her.jpeg but since the context is him with trash dad I actually hate it

Since Yukine is now so eager to meet his dad I can’t shake the feeling that he’s dead. It would be the perfect gut-punch for him to demand why his father killed him, only to find out that he’s dead (and maybe even that YATO did it...which would only add more fuel to the fire....fuck) and never get to resolve his turmoil.

I’ve been on the fence about whether Yukine’s dad is still alive but based on this chapter I’m putting my bets on “he’s dead and Yato killed him back in the early manga because that would cause the most suffering at present and that generally seems to be the route Adachitoka takes.”

Like, yeah, if Yato did it it was to protect Yukine, but that doesn’t matter when he’s already so pissed off at Yato.

Yato only fired on trash dad because he didn’t know that it was Yukine with him. And Yukine is again thinking that Yato is trying to hurt him. This chapter is also a horrible inversion of...was it 83-2? where Yato tried to kill trash dad and Yukine stopped him? Except now this time it’s not because Yukine wants answers, it’s because he’s pissed at Yato and loyal to trash dad.

Yato was also a fool for thinking sniping trash dad from afar would work, especially when it didn’t even work the first time.

So now the thing I’ve been working up to talking about throughout these many, many words: Hagusa’s vessel form is...himself. He is the weapon. This is such a wonderful (and terrible) narrative choice I’m delighted by where it will take us physically and metaphorically, but obviously it hurts. A lot.

Yuuki being himself the weapon that trash dad fights Yato with for what may be their final showdown is such a fitting culmination to his character arc in this section of the story. (when trash dad said he would turn him into a weapon I DIDN’T REALIZE IT WAS LITERAL)

This is also a good choice art-wise because it means even more pain with seeing Yukine physically fighting Yato rather than Yato and trash dad fighting with swords or something.

So Yato met with Yuka before (it was a flashback, as many people pointed out to me after I goofed last month lmao) but whether that was earlier today or further in the past remains to be seen. I hope he told her to get out because it seems like trash dad is heading into her house while Yato and Yukine face off.

well. “face off” is maybe an exaggeration. Yato will not be able to fight Yukine at all and I’m anticipating he gets the shit kicked out of him, again, while he tries to make him see reason. bro. I hate this. I really, really hate this. This final fight is going all the ways I knew it would, but hoped it wouldn’t.

Hiyori and Nora come help please

July can’t come soon enough

I’m pretty sure this is my longest thoughts post ever. so much happened and I have so many feelings about all of it.

#Noragami #Noragami manga #Noragami spoilers #chapter 88.2 #AND NOW WITH THAT I will try to get some more sleep.#live update

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goldenfawnwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Birds of a Feather- Pt. 5 Hawks fic

Summary: After a tense lunch date Finch still has to deal with Hawks at work as his personal assistant. When pictures of the day before finally get released by the press how will the two deal with the tension?

A/N: Yo lmao I’m back, sorry it took forever to get 4 out and now 5 but we moved right before christmas and all that jazz so super exciting stuff, now that we have our office back in one piece I’ll be updating more often.

warnings: none for this chapter I don’t think- let me know if it needs any

The next day Finch contemplated calling in but knew if she did it would only make things worse, besides, she had perfect attendance so far and really didn’t want to throw her end of the year pay raise away all because she didn’t want to see a certain someone. Even so, her stomach was churning on the way to work.

Her hands were trembling by the time she got to the office, setting her bag and coat down to go to the office area for the briefing. As she stood beside Hawks and took notes she couldn’t help her trembling, her hand writing becoming skewed and frustrating her. She had to hand this into Hawks at the end of the briefing and she knew he would notice the messy writing.

As she tried her best to focus Hawks was sending glances her way, slightly worried. Why did she seem so nervous today? Was she still sore from the assault? He figured she probably was still, she couldn’t have healed that fast, but it still didn’t explain how flushed she looked and the way she was fidgeting. Finally, they made their way back to their office, few words being exchanged.

As they finally took their seats Hawks looked over to her, inspecting her closely. She was wearing a dull grey dress, a matching tie cinching her waist and showing off her curves, plain black heels, and the gold and green hairpin. He was surprised she was wearing it after she seemed so upset yesterday. She still looked stunning, he concluded, his crimson plumage shivering as she daintily stood and turned to pick of her notebook.

He was only able to snap out of his daze when he realized she was coming over to him, hurriedly shuffling papers on his desk to make it seem like he wasn’t staring. Finch had already realized but didn’t say anything as she handed him her notes.

“Your notes for the day sir. Please be sure to send over the personal notes from your patrol when you finish. I’ll need them for the paperwork...”

She trailed off, her tiny fingers dragging against the top of his desk. His eyes trained on her painted nails, a soft pink that suited her, and he wondered if she was teasing him. He felt his neck get a little hot and he pulled at his collar, thanking her quietly.

As she made her way back to her desk he couldn’t help the urge to ask about the day before rising in him. Just as he was about to ask his radio buzzed to life, calling him into action and he stood, grabbing the radio and making his way to the window before giving his cute assistant a wave and dropping towards the city below.

Finch watched as he disappeared, his red wings lifting him into the chilly morning air. The usual jealousy caught in her chest and she made her way to the window he had left from. She couldn’t help but think about how attractive he was but, she stopped herself. The earrings and underwear came to her mind. He had someone he wasn’t telling her about. And she couldn’t impede on the secret relationship without guilt eating at her stomach.

It was hours later when Hawks reappeared, stepping in from the window to see Finch typing at her computer. She was rubbing her temples before she looked up at him, her eyes focussing on his wild hair and dirty outfit. He looked rough. She wanted to get up and see if he was ok but she hesitated. She shouldn’t worry so much about him, it wasn’t proper of her when she knew there was another girl doing the same. And so she stayed in her seat as he made his way to his.

“Have you ate yet? Cause I was thinking-”

“I’m not hungry. Thank you though.”

He was cut off. He swallowed in annoyance but before he could say anything to her there was a ping from both of their phones. It was various social media’s dinging loudly as they were tagged over and over again. His eye brows furrowed as he punched in his password, looking over the articles that had been published, the pictures of the two at lunch being strewn across the internet. His stomach dropped and he glanced over at Finch, waiting for her reaction.

He was greeted with silence. He was surprised. She didn’t care at all? He knew something was wrong then, it wasn’t like her to just be ok with all this.

“Do you not want to be around me anymore?”

He spouted before he could stop himself. She looked up, a frazzled look in her eye.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You know what I mean Finch. You haven’t talked to me all day, you don’t want to go to lunch with me, and what’s with you not saying anything about the pictures?”

She didn’t answer right away and Hawks continued.

“I don’t understand what happened yesterday, you were fine one minute and now you’ll barely spare me a glance, let alone a word-”

“Whose earrings were on your kitchen counter? And the panties in the hallway? If you’re using me to take the heat off her I’m not here for it.”

She snapped. He raised his eyebrows at her in surprise.

“Her? Finch they both belong to a girl I brought home as a one night stand. I don’t stay home enough to clean up, I’m sorry, she isn’t anyone important, you aren’t just some cover story-”

“Then let me mind my business and just be your personal assistant from now on. It’s disgusting you go out just to pick up women. I bet you’re so sweet to them too aren’t you?”

His face was red with embarrassment. He wasn’t expecting this, he thought she would be relieved that he didn’t have someone in the background. His chest deflated as he locked his jaw. She was really making him mad.

“What are you my mother?”

He jabbed, turning back to his desk and dropping the conversation as he knew he would get mean and he didn’t want that. He really liked her actually, that was why he was so upset. Disgusting? It was just a stupid one night stand, and who was she to be upset? She’s not his girlfriend or anything...

On the other side of the room Finch was fuming. She wasn’t even really sure why, he wasn’t hers to boss around or judge. She actually felt kinda bad for her outburst and wanted to say something but didn’t for fear of upsetting him more. It was tense after that, the only sound that filled the room was her typing on her keyboard and the occasional phone call.

Hawks glared at her from across the room and desperately wanted to shut off his feelings for her. He didn’t even want to admit the fact he liked her in general but it was getting suffocating in his mind. His wings were puffed in anger as were hers and he groaned, looking away as she eyed him.

#hawks #bnha hawks #mha hawks #hawks angst #hawks fluff #keigo takami #bnha keigo #fanfiction #fanfic

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genevievemd · 4 years ago

Note

Can I ask you some questions about Ethan and Genevieve I discovered your page a week ago just finished all the fics I'm interested in your version of the characters

Oph MC is usually seen as flawless and perfect (like every other MC in choices) what are some bad habits or flaws your MC has and we know Ethan's flaws he is one of the few li's who have actual flaws but still I'd like to know your Ethan's flaws which are personal or you have imagined them. (English is not my first language can't explain my request more clearly than this)

Do you see them married with kids in the future ( ik the marriage part you have a fic about it but here is what I specifically want. both of their opinions on this matter before meeting each other and after spending a year or two dating)

Does Ethan have extended family that you have created like a cousin he is very close to or a best friend (if yes can you make a fic where Genevieve meets this best friend or cousin?)

Any hobbies or skills Genevieve has?(like sketching or piano or something idk why Genevieve gives me piano vibes)

Which med school did you have Genevieve go to?

Are they fresh air kind of people or city air kind of

Do they believe in aliens

Opinions on pineapple on pizza

And last but not the least body language ( signs their body gives off when they are anxious, scared, happy and excited)

Ik they are a lot of questions and you probably hate me for making you answer this question air but either way love your work♥️♥️✨💫

Yes! You can always ask me questions and I LOVE these questions. I’m very attached to Gen lol so I’m always willing to talk about her!

Thank you for reading all my things!

And I don’t hate you for all the questions, I answered every single one, under the read more because they got lengthy. lol

First Question:

I definitely don’t see Gen as perfect. I’ve kind of put a lot of myself in her, which I’ve never done with any other MC I’ve played. I kind of see Gen as as a perfectionist, to the point where she gets in her own way. She also, like Ethan, tends to put everyone’s problems on her shoulders and feels responsible for thing that are way out of her control. And though Gen is patient, sometimes too patient, she can hold a grudge. It’s unhealthy and she knows that, but she has a hard time over coming it. Like with Landry, deep down Gen wants to let it go and move on. But there’s a small part of her that will always feel angry and betrayed. Gen’s also not one to put her own needs ahead of others, it’s rare that she’ll ask for what she needs, unless she 100% trusts the person she’s confiding in. (I have a headcanon where her dad cheated on her mom when she was in high school, they didn’t get a divorce, but Gen was the one who discovered the affair and it left a sort of trust/abandonment issue.) She can be rather clingy in a relationship, at first, something Ethan was annoyed with, he’s rather independent I think, but once he understood where that was coming from it didn’t bother him as much. It was just Gen’s way of reassuring herself that Ethan was hers, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Plus her love language is physical touch/affection and spending time together.

As for Ethan, I think he’s a very closed off person, has a hard time trusting people. He absolutely will push someone away, not because he necessarily wants to, but in order to protect himself. For me, I think one of the main reasons why he didn’t dive 100% into a relationship with MC was his fear that he’d lose them. That they would walk out the same way his mother did. I also think he’s way too stubborn and has a hard time admitting when he’s wrong. He won’t be the first to back down in a fight, even if that means it makes him unhappy.

Second Question:

I absolutely see Ethan and Genevieve married with kids. Gen has always wanted to get married, always wanted to be a mother. She’s had a pinterest board since high school thats dedicated to her dream wedding lol. When she found out Ethan wasn’t 100% on board with marriage, she was bummed. But at the same time, she was/is willing to let that go if it meant she could be with him. As long as she has Ethan, she doesn’t need a ring. Gen’s also always believed in soulmates and fate, she knew after their kiss in Miami that Ethan was her soulmate.

As for Ethan, I think deep down he’s always wanted kids but never saw them as an option because he never thought he’d find the right person to settle down with. I think that also ties into his past with his mom. Same with marriage, when he wasn’t in love, it didn’t make sense to him. But once he was, realized he never wanted to lose Gen, he understood it. Once he recognized how much he loves Gen, he wanted everything with her. Marriage, kids, all of it. With MC/Gen he realized he could be the parent he wanted to be.

I have a scene in chapter 3 or 4, I can’t remember which, in Love You Home where Ethan and Gen have the marriage/kids talk.

Third Question:

I think Ethan has an extended family. We don’t know much about his parents, if they are only children or not, but I think either his mom or dad has a sibling or two. They’re definitely not close at all, he probably doesn’t see them. But they exist. Gen’s influence definitely persuades him to reach out, in the same way she influenced him to give his mom a second chance.

As for a best friend? I don’t think he has one, I think Naveen is his closest friend at the moment. But I would love for him to get back in touch with maybe a childhood friend or friends from collage. Maybe even become friends with some fellow attendings at Edenbrook. Again, I think have Gen/MC around has really opened his eyes to different things and realizing how important friendships and relationships really are.

And at some point I may write something for that.

Fourth Question:

I love that you see Gen as a piano person because I also see Gen as a piano person. She doesn’t play much now, lack of access to a piano and too busy with work but she does know how to play. She also speaks a baby bit of french, not enough to be fluent but enough to understand her maternal grandparents (they’re first language is french, so they speak it interchangeably with english). I also think she’s a pretty decent singer, she did choir in middle/high school.

As for hobbies, Gen is super into photography. She’s not the greatest, but she loves it. It ties into her being a super sentimental person, she likes to have tangible memories. She also loves journaling, she definitely has a bullet journal that she does herself. It’s relaxing for her, after a stressful day. And I don’t know if you’d count make up as a hobby, but Gen is super into it. On the daily, she really only wears eyeliner, mascara and a light lipstick, but on her days off she experiments and does more intricate looks. I have a headcanon where Ethan comes home and sees Gen in like a super dark lip with a kickass winged liner, very femme fatale, and he’s shookith.

Fifth Question:

I go back and fourth on what med school Gen went too, I googled top 100 med schools when I started open heart so I could pick a good one for her lmao Its a toss up between University of California or University of Pennsylvania. Gen is from New England, she grew up on the coast of Maine - not too far from Providence actually. So I sometimes think UPenn because Gen would want to be close to her family. But then sometimes I say Cali because she wanted the adventure of going off on her own. At some point I’m going to have to choose obviously but where not there yet lol Still a toss up.

Sixth Question:

Genevieve is absolutely a fresh air girl. She loves the beach and being outdoors. Boston is a bit of a change for her, being a city but it doesn’t take long to find some country air here in New England so she gets both. lol

Seventh Question:

LMAO I love this question. I never thought of this but you know what Gen absolutely believes in aliens. Not in a weird conspiracy kind of way, more in a scientific kind of way. There’s no way Earth is the only planet in the galaxy to have life. The galaxy is freakin huge, scientifically there is no way we’re the only planet with life.

Eighth Question:

Pineapple on pizza is a crime. End of story. No one should ever have pineapple on pizza. No just...no.

Ninth/ Last Question:

I’m going to answer this for each of the things you listed in your question.

Anxious: It’s very easy to see when Gen is feeling this way, at least to Ethan and her friends. She retreats inward and does this like twisting motion with her fingers. Like cracking your knuckles but not actually cracking your knuckles. She’ll also bite the corner of her lip.

Scared: Gen doesn’t scare easy, but when she does she kind of hugs herself, makes herself smaller. Will hide behind things or run away. She’s a flight not a fight when scared. Especially if its like a spider, bug or snake - she’s terrified of those. That’s a freeze or run and scream situation.

Happy: Super easy to tell when Gen is happy. She gets really smiley, a little bouncy. One of those people that does that little happy dance of swaying back and forth.

Excited: Same as happy, big smiles. Jumps around. a little dancing. Lots of giggling.

I’m gonna add one more here, for shipping purposes lol

In Love: Gen is affectionate af, very touchy. She’ll show you how much she loves her way before she ever says it. Ethan realized she was in love with him months before she said it. Just by how much more open she was with physical affection. Always gently touching his arm, or kissing his cheek, always willing to hug him or snuggle in close.

Thank you so so so much for the questions, these were so fun to answer! Feel free to drop in any time. I love Gen and Ethan so much, I will always answer any questions you want to ask me about them.

#asked and answered #ethan x gen #ethan ramsey x mc #genevieve mcclure #open heart #open heart mc #fireycookie

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babyboy-bangtan · 5 years ago

Photo

By Chance Chapters 1-4

A misunderstanding gone viral puts you on BTS's radar, which leads to a series of events that finally culminate with you meeting them for the first time.

✚ Pairing: Sub!BTS/Female Reader ✚ Word Count: 3.3K ✚ Rating: M ✚ Warnings: None for now. ✚ A/N: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of my imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Read on AO3

Chapter 1: Before

Beep. Beep. Beep.

No.

Beep beep beep. Beep beep beep.

Absolutely not.

Beep beep beep beep beep!

Jesus Christ, fine.

You groan and grab your phone from your bedside table, turning off the alarm. It's not possible or even logical, but you really feel the big 5:00 A.M. on your lock screen is making fun of you.

You really want to die.

As you take a deep breath and pull the covers off of you, you get angry at your own stupidity last night. You had no business staying up until 1 a.m. watching Netflix knowing very well you had to be on the makeup chair at 6, but you went and watched a show anyway.

Actually, no, scratch that. This is Netflix's fault. It's their fault for making it so that you want to binge their goddamn shows. You're merely a victim of a very successful streaming platform.

You should sue them.

Well, once you're done filming your movie for them, that is. Once you're done with the movie and the promotion for it you'll sue them for robbing you of your precious sleep, because that's unforgivable, despicable, heinous, wretched—

Before you can continue with your methodical planning of the lawsuit you're going to throw into Netflix's face for making you stay up late at night and then get up early to film their movie, your phone ringing pulls you out of your angry thoughts.

It's your stylist calling.

Right, you asked her to call you because you were not sure you weren't gonna sleep through the five alarms you set for this morning— but against all odds, you actually woke up with the first one.

"Good morning. I promise I'm up." You reassure her before she can say anything. "I'm gonna shower soon."

"That's fine." She laughs. "I'm just calling cause you told me to last night."

"I knoow." You drawl out. "I was worried I'd ignore the alarms. But I'm up. No worries."

"Alright then. See ya in a bit, dude."

"Byeeeeeee!" You say, throwing your phone into your bed after hanging up.

Your bed, the love of your life. So soft, so inviting, so beautiful and ready to keep you comfortable for as long as you need it to. Except you need to be sitting on the makeup chair at 6, so no more bed for today. You take a deep breath and walk to the bathroom, as ready as you can be to star the day after only getting 4 hours of sleep.

"Good morning Timmy." You greet your costar with a kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning to you too." He says, biting back a smile. "You didn't sleep well, did you?"

"I have a right to remain silent." You reply, taking a sip of your coffee before walking past him. He catches up to you quickly. "Did you sleep well?"

"I got up at 5 a.m. so, of course not." He says, rolling his eyes at you. "I got like 5 hours of sleep only."

"Ha!" You say, stopping as you grip the handle of the makeup trailer's door. "I slept 4. I win."

Once you're both on your makeup chairs, you laugh as quietly as you can when you notice Timotheé dozing off while his hair is brushed, and you grab your phone to distract yourself. You can't really sleep when you're sitting up even if the fact that your stylist is working on your hair is really relaxing you, so you might as well try to get a bit more awake than you are now.

While you're telling her about the interesting article you just read, your phone vibrates in your hand, interrupting you. You quickly open the text when you see is from one of your friends, thinking that if she messaged you at 6 a.m. then it must be something important.

Or... maybe not. What you got instead of an important text is what you're pretty sure is a screencap of a Buzzfeed headline.

DID [Y/N] REALLY MEET BTS WITHOUT ANYONE OF US KNOWING?

You absolutely did not. You'd definitely remember meeting the most famous boy band in the world.

You quickly type a response.

Lmao no I didn't What's that about?

It only takes her a moment to reply.

It's just clickbait but it's like a thing right now People went nuts thinking you'd met BTS Because someone uploaded a video to youtube called [Y/N] BTS But it was just a behind the scenes video But then this tweet went viral

She then sends you another screencap, this time of a tweet with over 100k likes that's quoting another tweet with a video you recognize as the behind the scenes video you filmed for your last movie.

When you think [Y/N] met BTS but the BTS actually stands for Behind The Scenes 🤡

You actually laugh at that.

😂😂😂 my god Thanks for keeping me up to date with news about myself

She quickly responds.

No prob, Bob. Also you were trending on Twitter on #1 and #2 because of it Now you're like below the 7th but i got proof

She then sends you another picture, this time of the trending topics list. There it is at number 1, "[Y/N] BTS" and at number 2 is just your name. Below that one it's BTS alone.

As far as you know, BTS and kpop fans have the power to make anything trend on Twitter, so you're not that surprised to see they got you trending because they thought you'd met them. You're a bit surprised about the fact that it was over a complete misunderstanding, but stranger things have gone viral in the past and they will continue to do so in the future.

You wish your friend good luck at work today before you start telling your stylist about what just happened, and she just rolls her eyes and complains about people making news out of literally nothing nowadays. You agree completely— this isn't even the first time you are trending on twitter because of something silly— so you just drop the subject and go back to talking to her about the article you read. However, the thought of meeting BTS stays at the back of your mind for some reason.

You've only heard a couple of their most popular songs, which were admittedly very good and enjoyable, but you'd be lying if you didn't admit you'd love to meet them soon. They're huge right now, and even though you wouldn't call yourself a fan considering you don't even know all their names, you still recognize how incredible their journey has been and how talented they are.

Well, that and the tiny detail that every single one of them is absolutely stunning.

Chapter 2: Jungkook

"Who's [Y/N]?" Jungkook asks suddenly with a little frown as he sits on the floor after dance practice, scrolling through his phone. He's sure he has heard your name before, but he doesn't really know anything about you.

"Uhh... isn't she an American actress?" Namjoon replies, downing half of his water bottle. "I think I saw one of her movies. A period drama. She's pretty good." He pauses. "Why?"

"[Y/N] BTS is trending on Twitter." He replies, reading through some of the most popular tweets about it. "Apparently there was a misunderstanding with a video." He shrugs, opening the video in question.

It's you wearing one of those 19th century dresses, but the effect is lost because the fact that you're wearing a modern coat and sunglasses. If he understood you correctly over the awful sound quality, you were on the first day of shooting.

"What are you watching?" Hoseok asks, standing behind him.

"The video people thought was of her with us. It's a behind the scenes video of her movie." He replies absent-mindedly, focused on his phone. "I think it's from the one you watched, Hyung." He tells Namjoon, looking up at him.

You seem to be at a dance practice now, with who he assumes was your costar. It looks like some kind of waltz, and you both seem to be already good at it— there's no way this is the first time you're rehearsing it. Suddenly, the man flips you around gracefully and presses his front to your back in what Jungkook assumes was meant to be an intimate moment, but only a second later you start twerking and then everyone is laughing.

Him, too.

"Come on, we have to go." Hoseok says, tapping his shoulder.

"I'm coming." Jungkook replies, still watching the video even as he stands up. "She's funny." He says to the rest, occasionally looking up to make sure he doesn't run into a wall.

"What did you say happened with her?" Jimin asks, massaging his shoulder with a grimace.

"Apparently someone uploaded a behind the scenes video of one of her movies but since it said BTS people thought it was about her meeting us."

If Jimin— or anyone else for that matter— cared about his response, Jungkook didn't realize. He clicks on the next suggested video and keeps watching, not paying attention to anyone else. It's during his viewing of that video that Jungkook decides he'll watch the movie Namjoon mentioned as soon as he gets free time to do so, and then he'll see what other movies you've done to see if anything interests him.

The fact that you're beautiful and when you smile his tummy feels tingly has absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

Chapter 3: Jimin

The thought of the video Jungkook mentioned at dance practice comes back to Jimin all of a sudden late at night, when his mind is restless and the painkillers haven't eased the ache of his shoulder just yet. He can't sleep, so he might as well distract himself a little until they kick in.

He doesn't remember your name correctly; he misspells it several times until he just searches "Actress behind the scenes video mistaken bts band" and several recent articles appear.

[Y/N], that's right. That was your name. The names he'd been trying weren't even remotely similar.

He opens one article just for the sake of it— it's a very clickbait-y one, but he figures it's likely all of them will be— and starts reading an unnecessary long version of what happened. The gist of the article is what Jungkook already said: people confused a behind the scenes video of your movie with a video that involved them, and it went viral.

There are other suggested articles about you at the end of the one he just read, and one specifically catches his attention.

"[Y/N] gets bold on new Vogue Magazine interview: 'Gender roles are such bulls**t.'"

He quickly opens the original article instead of the mess he's sure is the one on the clickbait site, and he can't hold back a gasp at the picture of you that appears in front of him.

He figures he shouldn't be surprised considering what year it is and how normal it is to see women in suits nowadays, but he can't help but get his breath taken away when he sees a woman wearing one. He doesn't know what it is, and it's not really every suit on every woman that does it either— but the one you're wearing on that photo definitely fits the bill.

Your hair is purposefully messy— the kind of messy that can only be achieved by having a hair stylist work on you for a considerable amount of time, he knows that very well— and your face is covered in natural-looking makeup.

Except for your eyes. They did a beautiful job with them.

You are most certainly not wearing a bra and he knows that the fact that it's just noticeable enough is also very intentional, and there's something about the pose you're doing that is making his palms sweat.

Chin tilted up.

Eyes half lidded, looking down.

Mouth slightly open.

White dress shirt, with just two buttons undone.

He almost wishes you'd gone for another one as well, so your cleavage would be visible.

Almost.

The picture is perfect as it is. Can't be improved by anything.

The quote on the clickbait site isn't even the most interesting part of the article; you talk about leaving social media because the pressure of making sure people liked you affected your mental health, about going to therapy since you were a teenager, and about how annoyed you were a couple years ago when the movement #AskHerMore was in full swing and you still felt reduced to only the way you looked at the Oscars, where a movie you were in was nominated. If Jimin understands correctly, a video of you looking very annoyed at the questions went viral.

"It was very frustrating," The quote begins. "because on one hand you had what was supposed to help the interviewers realize that you want to talk more about the movie you worked so hard on, but so many of them simply didn't care. I guess what really got to me was that there were people saying that women get asked about their looks because their dresses are so beautiful and of course people notice them, but I was wearing the most generic black suit you've ever seen. And still they kept calling me bold and chic and other things just cause I had fu**ing pants on."

He opens a new tab and quickly types "[Y/N] Oscars suit outfit" before he even realizes what he's doing.

And there it is: the same feeling he got a few minutes ago when he saw the first picture of you.

Breathless, palms sweaty.

He scrolls through the image results, opening and looking at related pictures of you in suits from other events. It seems that it's a preferred outfit for you along with jumpsuits, and there's an occasional dress now and then.

He sighs and goes back to the article to finish it and look at the rest of the pictures from the Vogue session.

"It doesn't just happen to me." You say in another quote. "There are other women who wear suits and it gets treated like some kind of big deal when they're just clothes. And men have it way, way worse. At least we can wear a suit normally but if men want to wear dresses or skirts or even clothes that deviate from what so many people consider masculine, they'll have people criticizing them and disrespecting them in horrible ways. They're just pieces of fu**ing fabric! Gender roles are such bulls**t."

Jimin smiles at that, and at the fact that the writer of the piece comments that you get very passionate when talking about such things. He likes it.

A big yawn interrupts his train of thought, and he realizes his shoulder hasn't been bothering him for a little while now. He leaves his phone on his nightstand and gets comfortable under the covers, thinking it would be nice if they had actually met you, instead of it only being just a misunderstanding.

Maybe one day.

Chapter 4: Jin

Because Jin is sitting next to Jungkook inside the van, he can't really help but be distracted by the videos the younger has been watching nonstop on his phone. As it has been for the past couple of weeks, he's watching another one of your interviews.

It's astoundingly obvious to everyone that Jungkook has developed a crush on you.

"You're still watching videos of her?" Jin asks, but the taunting tone in his voice goes completely over Jungkook's head. He's too focused on the video.

"Yes. Do you want to watch?" Jungkook asks, offering an earphone for him innocently. Jin finds it impossible to resist the cuteness so he accepts it, taking it from his hand and putting it on as he wraps his arm around Jungkook's shoulders.

It's an interview, and you're sitting next to an actor he doesn't recognize.

"Who's that?" He asks Jungkook, pointing at the guy.

"I don't know." Jungkook shrugs, truly not caring even a tiny a bit about who the man is.

"Okay." Jin replies, shaking his head at Jungkook with a smile. There's really good chemistry between you and the man— you laugh together a lot, and he feels a spark of recognition at the back of his mind when he sees your smile, but he can't tell where it comes from.

"Have you seen their movie?" Jin asks, returning the earphone to its owner. Jungkook nods as he puts it back on.

"It's very good. I liked it."

So he has seen the movie, but he still doesn't know who the actor is at all? There might be a possibility that the crush is a bit more intense than Jin previously believed.

"What else has she worked on?" He pries, wondering if he's confusing you with someone else or if maybe he did see something you were on, even if it was in passing. There's something familiar about you and it's starting to annoy him to not know what exactly.

"Lots of things. Several movies. She was on a show when she began acting. I think her first job was on CSI or one of those American crime shows with a thousand seasons." Jungkook focuses on his video again and Jin pulls out his own phone, quickly searching for your name.

He opens your Wikipedia page and goes straight to Filmography, where he can see right there on the Television section that your first credit is actually CSI.

CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.

2013.

Oh, no.

The name of your character. Jin knows it. God, he'd recognize it anywhere. The name of the episode right next to it only serves to confirm what he's fearing.

He immediately types "[Y/N] CSI" and swallows a gasp when he sees the pictures that pop up in front of his eyes, careful to not alert Jungkook or the others.

Oh god, no.

Jin knows who you are very well. He hasn't really watched the episode you appeared on in a while, but he used to do it so often that he memorized exactly what happens every single second you're on screen.

Your hair was a different color and you were younger— that's why he didn't immediately recognize you. Back when you were on that episode it was futile to try and search for more of your work; CSI was your first role and he couldn't find any information about you at the time. He didn't really search for you again after that; he was very aware that shows like that have hundreds of guest actors that sometimes end up reduced to extras for the rest of their careers.

Well, this was clearly not the case for you.

The memories of the scenes he knows so well flash quickly on his mind, and he swallows with slight difficulty as he feels his ears getting hot.

Your hand is wrapped around the guy who plays your boyfriend's throat— and without showing too much it's clear you're on top of him while you have sex. His hands are tied with a scarf to the bed, and he's blindfolded.

"You like that, baby?" You whisper into the man's ear with a smile, biting his earlobe.

Jin shakes his head, trying to get rid of the very intrusive thought of you lovingly choking a guy during sex. He's in a van with the rest of the guys, the last thing he wants is for them to notice something is wrong.

He closes all the tabs and puts his phone away, moving his head to look out the window instead, hoping the sight of the buildings and streets will distract him. He's glad the whole BTS thing was a misunderstanding and you didn't actually meet them, because he has no idea how he'd react if he had you in front of him in real life.

How do you possibly greet the person you used to masturbate to on a daily basis?

If you’ve made it here: thank you so much for reading!

#sub!bts #sub!idol #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #park jimin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #kim namjoon x reader #min yoongi x reader #jung hoseok x reader #kim taehyung x reader #if you've read this on ao3 don't worry it's me lmao #my work

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lokidiabolus · 4 years ago

Text

The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

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

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

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

Can be found on Ao3.

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

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hugging… him, what?

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

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

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

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

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

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

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

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

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

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

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

But now it sucked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Uh oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

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

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

2020, February 14th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

2020, July 25th

“Jazz club?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So we match was left unsaid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

2020, March 24th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

2020, July 25th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Romance done right.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

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

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

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

“Lately?”

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

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

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

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

“Yer trying to fix me.”

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

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

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

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

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th

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

Unfair.

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

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

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

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

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

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

***

2020, November 11th

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Score.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

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

***

2021, February 9th

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’m a special case.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

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

***

2024, October 1st

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There, there, darlin’.”

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

“Breathe.”

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

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

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

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

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

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

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

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleaaase.”

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

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

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

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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toutallyahoe · 5 years ago

Text

Love That ~ Newt Scamander (FBAWTFT)

Requested By: --

A/N: hi, hello... its fucking ¾ till 2... in. the. fucking. morning. i have to wake up at 5 later, sooo, yeah...

also, very fun fact: this was supposed to be a drabble but my dumb ass just said, "yeah... lmao no," so ye... now you get this very "short" chapter... and when i mean short, i mean more than 2000 words because any number above 1000 words is long enough for me to cry my heart out agdjjabfjsjfbkajdnannfnd

anyways, enjoy this small one shot for this precious cutie <3 also, Eddie Redmayne is definitely a cutie too <3

like... look at this

look at that precious cutie right there <3

─────────────────

A fond smile crepted onto Newt's lips as his eyes shone in happiness. The wizard being both quite relieved and happy to see his newly made muggle friend being all calm and collected. Not freaking out like the wizard had imagined when he had told the muggle what he was. Accepting him and also the creatures he is fond of. In fact, his muggle friend was in utter awe with the magical creatures and it made Newt feel joyous to have someone see these creatures as something more than pest nor dangerous. Someone that saw that these were incredible creatures, not beasts.

"Fascinating," Newt heard [Name], his muggle friend, breathlessly uttered as he softly petted the niffler he was craddling. Awe plastered on his face as he then let out a laugh when the niffler swatted his hand away when he tried to poke it's cute little snout.

"Simply fascinating," [Name] said, smiling softly as he findly looked at the small, magical creature in his hand.

Newt stood a few feet away, still that fond smile on his lips as the little bowtruckle on his hand looked at him with its confused black beady eyes. The small creature tilted its head in confusion as it then turned and followed where its caretaker was looking at.

Pickett, the bowtruckle's name, saw its caretaker was looking at the muggle who was busy trying to get his ring away from the thieving hands of the niffler on his hand. The bowtruckle looked back at Newt and decided that the wizard should snap out of his stare. It was, after all, very inappropriate and not to mention creepy.

"Ow!" Cried Newt, snapping out of his staring daze as he looked at the direction of the pain. Looking down at his hand, Newt saw the small green colored, twig like body of the little bowtruckle that was innocently at him with those black beady eyes of it. Newt let out a huff as the wizard fully knew that Pickett was the caused of his surprising pain.

[Name], hearing Newt's cry, stopped playing with the niffler and had turned his head around to the direction of hearing the wizard's cry. Eyebrows furrowed as worry plastered on his face.

"Newt?" [Name] called. Worry evident in his tone as he continued, "are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine!" Newst responded. A soft shade of flush on Newt's freckled cheeks. Embarrassed, Newt was.

"Are you certain?" [Name] said. Still looking at Newt in worry that with his attention somewhere else, the niffler on his hand had snatched back the shiny, gold ring of his and hid it on its small pouch.

"No!" Cried Newt as he saw the niffler did but his answer made [Name] threw him an incredibled look. Assuming the wizard's word to be the answer for his question.

With the deed done, the magical creature jump off, out of the muggle's hand and scurried away in a very fast pace before anyone cold stop it and get the gold ring back.

"Wha-- hey!" [Name] had said. Finally realizing why Newt shouted out as he looked at where the niffler used to be in his hands then looking at the direction of where it went. A laugh left his lips then as he shakes his head and slowly stood up from his position on sitting on the ground. "Little bugger," fondly said [Name] as he turned to look at Newt again and sent the wizard a boyish grin.

"Am I going to see that ring again? That was a gift from my ma, you know," chuckled [Name] as he raised a brow at the wizard. [Name] was a bit afraid if that was the last time he would see that ring again as truly, it was important to him. Like he had said, it was one of the only things he had left with his family. Especially his mother.

"I am so sorry," apologized Newt. Face flushed as he looked down at the tiny bowtruckle known as Pickett on his hand to avoid eye contact with his muggle friend. "Niffler's are usually attracted to any thing that is shiny and beautiful to their eye that they steal and horde them," he had explained, still avoiding eye contact.

"Well..." [Name] trailed off as he went to where Newt was and sat beside the wizard who he ahd not missed the way Newt's body tensed a bit. "I am quite confused why that little bugger didn't take you then," that had caused Newt to look up a bit as he turned his head to look at [Name]. Confusion plastered on his face and was about to ask when the muggle cut him to it.

[Name] seemed to knew what the wizard was about to ask as he grinned at Newt.

"After all, you are a beautiful treasure," said [Name] as he winked at the wizard who's face flushed immediately after he had processed what the muggle had said.

"I... I-I... um... n-not... uhh," Newt sputtered out incoherently as he turned to look away from [Name] teasing grin. Face definitely flushed as he was truly flustered on what the muggle had said.

[Name] didn't seem to care of what he had said and instead leaned a bit closer to the wizard as he looked at the little bowtruckle on Newt's hand. A small smile on his lips as he looked at the bowtruckle with interest.

"What kind of animal is this?" [Name] had asked as he placed his hand on Newt's shoulder and leaned more closer to look at Pickett who seemed to also look at the muggle with interest in its beady eyes. [Name] smiled when he placed his forefinger close to the bowtruckle and Pickett coming close to his finger and then wrapped its small green limbs that is his arms had hesitantly poke the muggle's forefinger until Pickett saw that was safe and had wrapped its limbs around the finger.

[Name] smile widened when he lefted his finger a bit and safe Pickett clutching on his finger tightly. Loosely hanging as the bowtruckle was looking at him with interest like he is doing with it aswell.

"You're adorable," [Name] had laughed as he watched the small magical creature trying to pull itself up from his hand.

Newt stayed quiet as he had watched [Name] interact with the bowtruckle. A bit baffled and also a bit relieved that Pickett didn't poke out the muggle's eyes with the bowtruckle's sharp fingertips. The wizard had calmed down a bit from his embarrassment and had saw Pickett softly poking at [Name] finger with its own tiny limb and also seeing how Pickett wrapping its green limps on the muggle's finger.

Newt seemed to be in awe. The wizard never thought he'll see the day that the bowtruckle would come out of its shy shell. Pickett, afterall has some trust issues that the wizard could say that he could relate for he isn't one for crowds and such.

Newt softly smiled as he saw the bowtruckle swinging back and forth on [Name]'s forefinger while the human looked absolutely mesmerized by what Pickett was doing.

"Newt?" [Name] called out his name. Snapping the said man out of his thoughts as the wizard saw both the muggle and the bowtruckle looking at him. Pickett seemed to go back to swinging itselt back and forth on the man's finger. [Name], on the other hand, sent Newt a look of worry for a second then it disappeared as he smiled.

"Newt?" [Name] called out again. But this time, Newt answered.

"Yes?" Newt softly said as he saw [Name] sent a quick look at the bowtruckle on his hand to make sure that Pickett was still there, playing. Then looking back to Newt.

"What creature is this cute little guy?" [Name] asked as he looked back at the bowtruckle again and saw that Pickett was standing on his forefinger. The bowtruckle saw the muggle looking at itself, Pickett blew a raspberry at the man.

The adorable action of the small little creature made [Name] let out a laugh as Newt let out a soft cry of yelling the small creature's name in embarrassment.

"Pickett! Don't do that!" Newt cried as his face flushed.

"Pickett?" [Name] had said as he finished laughing. "Is that the name of this little guy or is it his kind?" He had asked, really interested to know what kind was this interesting and adorable little creature.

"T... that's his name..." Newt had answered. Face still bloomed with flush. The wizard decided to look at Pickett instead of looking at the muggle close beside him.

"Then," [Name] softly started as he had looked at Newt and saw the other was looking at the bowtruckle in his hand. "Can you perhaps tell me more about them?" The muggle had asked as he gently placed Pickett back to Newt's hand.

Hearing [Name]'s question, Newt raised his head to look at the other. Newt felt his heart stopped beating for a second when he looked into thise [Eye color] eyes of the other. Not really noticing that he and the muggle was in very close distance as the wizard was lost in those eyes of the other.

Admiration. Sheer utter genuine admiration inside those [Eye color] eyes of the muggle that made Newt be reminded the warmth feeling he always experienced when seeing a magical creature.

"Newt?" [Name] called the wizard's name. Pulling out Newt from his daze and thoughts again.

Realizing what he had done, Newt let out a mixture of a choke and squeak as he quickly turned his head away from [Name]'s. Still, the wizard nodded his head at the question that [Name] had asked awhile ago. Before he had lost himself on those mesmerizing eyes of the other.

"Y-yes!" Newt squeaked out. [Name] raised a brow at this but didn't mention how Newt's behavior had change as he may have not know the wizard that well, he can tell when someone want to drop a subject. So, instead of pointing out Newt's odd behavior, he simply smiled and nodded.

"So..." [Name] trailed off as he looked at the bowtruckle that was sitting on Newt's palm and was looling curiously at them. "What kind is Pickett is? And the one who... erm, took my ring too, what are they?"

"Pickett... Pickett is a bowtruckle," Newt softly began as he looked at the said bowtruckle on his hand. Softly petting the green leaf on Pickett's head affectionately as the bowtruckle leaned on his finger. A fond smile on the wizard's lips as [Name] looked at Newt, a soft smile on the other's lips as he watched how Newt was affectionate to the small creature.

"Pickett actually... he isn't the only bowtruckle I have," Newt had said.

"Really? There's more?" Newt softly smiled at what [Name] had said. The wizard didn't have to turn to look at the muggle's face to know he was interested as the tone of [Name]'s voice had gaved it away.

"Y-yes... there's Titus, a-and Finn. Poppy, Marlow a... and also Tom," Newt had said. "Bowtruckles lived in trees. They're peaceful and also shy creatures," Newt had said.

"Like you?" [Name] piped. Grinning cheekily as he saw Newt's freckled cheeks reddened but the smile on the wizard's lips made him knew that Newt was alright with him comments.

"I... I wouldn't say that I'm... umm, peaceful," Newt had softly said as he heard [Name] sputter.

"Y-you? Not peaceful?" [Name] said, not believing what Newt had said. "Mister Scamander, you are the most purest man I had ever met and believed me, travelling makes you meet many interesting people," said [Name].

"Well, I... I sometimes fancy myself with... duels back in Hogwarts," said Newt, bravely as he turned to look at [Name] to silently say that he did use to duel. Newt seemed to remember that [Name] probably didn't know what 'duel' or 'Hogwarts' had meant as he was a muggle. And he was right as he saw the other had looked at him like he had grown two heads with the confusion plastered on [Name]'s face.

"Um... duels? H... Hogworts...?" [Name] said, uncertainty in his voice. His miss pronouncing of the name of the school made Newt bite back a chuckle threatening to leave his lips as he smiled at [Name] and shakes his head.

"R-right... you're a mugg... I mean, not a wizard..." Newt mused. "I'll tell you more about... all this," he had said. [Name] had a gentle smile on his lips as he nodded his head.

"I'd love that," [Name] had a softly said as he looked into Newt's eyesm adoring the lovely shade of blue where it remind [Name] of the cool and calming colors of the sky or the ocean waves that he often watched by when he set sails on boats to move to another place to travel.

"I'd love that, a lot," [Name] whispered underneath his breathe as Newt looked at his eyes aswell. Daze like he had done awhile ago too as he lost himself from the hypnotizing gaze of those mesmerizing [Eye color] eyes of [Name]'s.

The wizard loved this. He loved this, a lot, aswell.

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