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league-of-sam · 1 month

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Don't Be Shy | Konig x Reader

Kӧnig x TF141 x AFAB!Reader

PART THREE

Summary: Transferred against your will to a new task force to calm a troubled soldier, you felt way in over your head - especially when you came face to face with a 6'10" mountain of Austria. 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, human trafficking, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

1 / 2 / 4 / 5

Over the next week, every effort that you made to befriend Kӧnig was met with uninterested grunts, or his complete ignorance of you.

It was disheartening, to say the least.

You were the kind of person that enjoyed making people’s days better, and the mere thought that he hated you this much hurt you, a lot. The constant nagging from Ghost and Soap didn’t help either. They video called you every night without fail, inundating you with questions, and Soap teasing you every time your cheeks tinted red.

The people on the KorTac team were nice enough, but the way they treated one of their own just didn’t sit right with you.

And that’s why you found yourself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Looking at the clock on your side table, the red numbers flashed angrily at you; 03:12. Sighing, you flung the clovers from your body, and jumped out of bed.

Slipping on some black leggings and one of Gaz’s old hoodies that you’d stolen, you picked up your rifle and a few rounds, and headed out towards the firing range.

You’d found that at this time, the place was empty.

You were able to be alone in an environment that you loved.

It was odd to say that. The place you were calmest almost always resulted in ending lives. But you guessed that was the life of a soldier.

Lying down in the dirt, flat on your stomach with a giant gun weighing heavy in your fingers and pulling the trigger from miles away with a slow release of breath.

Calming.

You trudged along the tarmac towards the range, a large building on the outskirts of the base. At this time in the morning, there wasn’t a soul in sight, but you still opted to be as quiet as possible as you moved around.

Slinging your rifle over your shoulder, you pushed the heavy metal door open slowly, just enough for you to squeeze through before shutting it gently behind you. You went to wince as it shut louder than you intended, but the sound of a gunshot rippling through the building silenced you.

Your head turned swiftly, only to see two very long legs coming from your usual cubicle.

A flurry of German speech sounded, frustrated groans and thuds stunning you to complete stillness. He’d not spoken to you for a week, and now, the two of you were completely alone. You went to leave, but foolishly, your quick turn caused the butt of your rifle to clang against the door, signalling your presence.

“Bitte! Who is there?” the man spoke.

Timidly, you stepped forward into his eyeline, “I-it’s just me…sorry, usually when I come no one is here I’ll go-”

“Nein.” he grunted, turning away from you to line up another shot.

You expected him to say more, but he turned his attention back to the target, firing another shot and missing. Barely, but he cursed profusely under his breath, head dropping in defeat.

“Uh, I…you should, uh, rotate your hips more.” You stuttered out, “It’ll give you more stability with the kickback, and raise your aim two notches.”

He turned to face you; expression completely unreadable under the hood.

His gaze made you nervous, and you shifted on your feet, hands moving to clutch your own rifle. To your surprise, he nodded, and did exactly that. His next shot hit the target, but not quite in the bullseye.

Wordlessly, you set up your things in the booth next to him, sliding open the small hatch so that he could see you.

“You know what you’re doing, Kӧnig, it’s just your positioning that’s a little off.” You spoke, “Do what I do.”

With that, you got into position, grinding yourself down to be as close as possible to the cemented ground. Your right leg remained straight behind you, while your left bent at the knee, offering support to your arm that rested against it.

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind, before bringing your eye to the scope, and pulling the trigger.

Perfect bullseye.

You smiled at your success, as you always did.

Kӧnig watched you intently, eyes narrowing as you guided him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He fucking knew that he knew what he was doing, you didn’t need to tell him that. But he was also failing. The shot he took after your pointers was the closest to the target he’d gotten in hours.

“See?” you said, head nodding towards your form, “shift your leg up, gives the back of your arm more support.”

He nodded, and copied you, taking another shot.

It was closer to the bullseye, but still not good enough.

He pushed the rifle away from him, sending it clattering onto the ground, his head dropping into his hands.

“Verdammte hӧlle! (fucking hell!)” he exclaimed, making you jump.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself onto your knees, and crawled around to his booth, settling behind him.

“Can I?” you asked, reaching forward.

Not that you could see, but his face was red as he blushed furiously. You were so close, and being so kind, and you smelt so fucking good.

He didn’t dare speak, and just nodded, his whole body tensing as he felt your tiny hands make contact with the clothed flesh of his thigh.

With shaking fingers, you repositioned him, hands ghosting over his as you moved him to support the gun properly.

“Now try.” You whispered.

Kӧnig took an unnaturally deep breath to still his racing heart. He’d never been so close to such a pretty girl.

Squeezing the trigger, the sound echoed once more, but when you opened your eyes, there was a hole in the middle of the target, smoking.

“JA!” König yelled, turning to look at you, as if to make sure you had been watching him succeed.

You had a wide smile on your face, heart swelling from his happiness.

“Nice work, soldier.” You spoke.

“And they said I couldn’t be a sniper.” He mused. “Uh, danke…(Y/N).”

Your eyes widened slightly, heart skipping as you heard your nickname fall from his lips, “Oh, uh, no problem.”

He turned back to the gun, body fidgeting from the excitement.

Something you’d noticed about him over the last week was his inability to sit still for long periods of time. You found it endearing, but it also made more sense as to why he was denied as a sniper.

You returned to your own booth, the two of you shooting targets for a while, until the kickback from the rifle was starting to make your shoulder ache.

An involuntary whine slipped from your mouth as you sat back with a soft thud, back leaning against the wall as your fingers slowly worked the irritated muscle.

“You hurt?” he spoke quietly, looking at you through the hatch.

“It’s all good, just a little bit of soreness, only downside to the SP-X 80s.”

Your eyes fell closed as you rubbed, biting your lip to stifle the groans of pain desperate to come out. It was the one thing you hated about your job – the huge guns were ruthless.

Kӧnig watched you, sympathy rising in him as his heart continued to beat wildly.

He placed his own gun down and stood. Despite his lumbering size, he moved almost silently, and so it took you by surprise when you opened your eyes, and he was knelt in front of you. Suddenly, the booth seemed so much smaller with the two of you squished into it.

You stared at him with wide eyes, hand stopping.

He slumped back, his spine pressed against the wall opposite you, and planted his feet on the floor. Even sitting down, this man towered over you, his bent knees easily as high off the ground as your own shoulders.

He spread them in front of you, his forearms resting on his knees, and he opened his hands, gesturing to the empty space in between his legs.

“Come.” He said, voice shaking.

“Uh…what?” your mouth dried instantly, heat rising up your neck.

He made the gesture again, kicking your boot with his, “Let me help.”

“Oh, n-no…it’s quite alright, you don’t-”

“Please, you helped me, I help you.”

He tapped your foot once more, clearly not willing to take no for an answer, so you shuffled across, using his tree trunk of a leg to aid you in rotating away from him in the small space.

As soon as your back was to him, you gasped a little as you felt his hands rest on your waist, pulling you towards him with almost no effort. You were practically pressed against his front now, and you felt yourself begin to sweat at the closeness.

Your body jumped slightly as he gently pushed your hair to the side and began kneading the flesh of your shoulder. A satisfied groan left your lips, and König chuckled slightly, the warmth of his breath hitting the back of your neck.

You couldn’t help but relax into his touch, your head rolling back to lean against his chest as your eyes fluttered shut, revelling in the relief he was bringing you.

God, he was good at this.

The contact made him huff, his body stiffening as you rested against him, fuck.

The way your head fell against him…it made his heart race and his mind blank. In this position, he could smell your shampoo, him knowing you must have showered some hours before. He felt himself leaning down to you, wanting to press his head against yours.

“Kӧnig means…king, right?” you spoke softly, as his fingers pressed gently into your skin.

Your voice pulled him out of his trance, and he cleared his throat, spine snapping straight.

“You speak German?” he said, a surprised tone underlying the words.

“Nur ein bisschen (only a little),” you smiled, “I can understand a few phrases, but not a whole lot.”

Kӧnig smiled widely; not only were you talking to him, you were talking to him in his language. All this time, he could have been having pleasant conversations with you, but he tried pushing you away. Guilt made his skin crawl, but he couldn’t help it – you were everything he wanted to be, and he knew you were here to basically babysit him on this mission.

But you were so schӧne (beautiful)…so sweet, so fucking annoyingly perfect.

If he was honest with himself, you’d not left his mind since the day you arrived. Every time he heard you laugh as you spoke to other members of the team, his heart skipped.

He wished he could make you laugh.

“Your pronunciation is good.” He encouraged.

“Danke.” You said, a small laugh escaping with it, “You really know what you’re doing.”

“I am helping, ja?” he responded, his fingers gliding over your skin.

You let out a sigh, your head pressing further into his chest, “Hmm…yeah.”

“Good.” He whispered back.

The silence that followed was comfortable, but when your watch beeped to signal the passing of another hour, you jumped.

The sudden movement on your part caused Kӧnig to panic, and his arms came over your shoulders, locking your body to his. He had acted on instinct, wanting to shield you as much as possible from whatever had frightened you.

“I-I’m alright…it was just my watch. I can be a bit jumpy sometimes.” You said, an awkward laugh following.

Yeah, he knew what that was like.

“Oh…yes, das tut mir leid. (sorry about that.)” He grumbled, letting you go.

Clearing your throat, you stood, dusting off your clothes and picking up your rifle. He followed your actions, and the two of you left the firing range together, walking in silence.

In fact, he walked you all the way to your door, standing awkwardly as you unlocked it. He was already staring at you when you turned back to him.

“Uh, thank-”

“I’m sor-”

The two of you tried to speak, cutting the other off. It made you laugh a little but made Kӧnig all the more nervous.

“You go.” You offered.

“I just wanted to say sorry for being unkind this week.” He mumbled.

Your heart swelled as he refused to meet your gaze, and so, somewhat bravely, you stepped forward, reaching up. Your hand landed on his forearm, causing him look at you.

“I don’t blame you,” you whispered, “People treat you badly here, but you need to know that I was brought here to help, not make your life harder.”

He gulped; mouth dry.

You had the most beautiful eyes.

So full of sincerity and kindness.

With his lack of words, you frowned a little, and dropped your hand back to your side. A shiver ran up his spine at the loss of contact, and he found himself wanting to reach for you.

“Goodnight, Kӧnig.” You smiled.

Before he could answer, you had disappeared into your room, the lock on the door clicking softly.

He stood there for a good five minutes after, his mind running through the events of the evening. All he could focus on was how good you smelled, and how tiny you felt pressed up against him…how soft your flesh was.

Little did he know, you were leant against the door on the other side, breathing heavily with a hand on your chest.

Maybe Soap was right.

Maybe you did have a crush on the Mountain of Task Force KorTac.

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cyphorical · 2 years

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Educating Flat Earthers

John Carpenter - Protest? I’m trying to convince a guy at work that the world isn’t flat…. I don’t have enough time or energy to protest. I’m busy trying to fix what the modern educational system has broken, one person at a time! 😢

Mavrik9000 - Simple questions to lead them to think differently and logically: 1. What exactly is the overall shape? 2. How thick is it? 3. What does the edge look like? 4. How thick is the edge? (Ask them to draw a diagram: is it a disk with a smooth edge like a coin, is it a sharp-edged disk like a pizza cutter, etc.) 5. Where is the edge geographically? 6. Does anyone live near the edge? (Starting around this point their answers won't make sense, even to themselves.) 7. Are there any photos or videos of the edge? 8. What's on the other side? 9. Is it moving, if so in what way? 10. Is it rotating like a disk saw blade? How fast? 11. If so, why do the people and things near the edge not fly off? (Demonstrate with a merry-go-round or a bicycle wheel with refrigerator magnets.) 12. Is it spinning like a coin on its edge? How fast? 13. If so, why do the people and things near the edge not fly off? (Demonstrate with a bicycle wheel hanging from a string and a refrigerator magnet.)

#flat earthers #education #logic #debunking #flat earth #youtube #comments

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txttletale · 7 months

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bundletober #7: this party sucks

hello and welcome to bundletober, the numinous ritual that shall call down the damnation of angels upon our deserving heads. today's game is this party sucks by beating the binary

i won't beat around the bush: i was primed to not like this game much, which is maybe uncharitable--but games making a big deal of how 'queer' they are in their marketing copy always puts me off. this might stem back to my love-hate relationship with thirsty sword lesbians and that game's chronic tone problem, or i might just be a cynical bitch. but this party sucks surprised me in a good way. it's a pretty simple game: it's about a single protagonist (control of whom rotates around the table) going to a bunch of parties to try not to think about their ex, having a bad time, and then thinking about their ex. it's the kind of razor-sharp concept that i think TTRPGs should tackle more (or, rather, that the hundreds of TTRPGs tackling should get more attention) and imo it pulls it off well.

i've been talking a bit on the horizon machine blog about safety tools and which ones i like and don't like--this party sucks does something surprising and invents a brand new safety tool that i actually like a lot. i mean, it's by the author's own admission half safety tool and half play aid and half joke. but it does all those things really well

the IFCOBPC card is a really funny and fantrastic concept and it fits perfectly in this game -- it's a game about a queer awkward twentysomething and that also seems to be the obvious target audience, and it's a play and design space i haven't seen explored--a way to signal this kind of over-the-table emotional response without a complex mechanical framework or the extremely serious and weighty context of x-cards & the like

the other thing i like about this party sucks is that it's specifically three-player. this is a game for three people to play, there are three books, you rotate them round once each, and everything in the game is designed for that. i like this kind of restriction, because it's much easier to design tightly around three people than, say, '3-5' -- and it shows! the division of play roles into the Protagonist, the Venue, and Other People at the party makes perfect sense and gives everyone a fair amount to do. as someone who was a 'forever DM' back when i still played d&d, i now adore games that clearly delineate and distribute narrative power and responsibility.

one last thing--this party sucks has an epilogue mechanic, a real ending. and i love that! ending one-shot games in a satisfying way can often feel difficult, and having a set of prompts asking you to decide on what happens after the game is over is a great way to provide guidance for that. ultimately, though, as much as i talk about tight design, what really made the focus on queerness in this party sucks work for me when for the most part it doesn't in thirsty sword lesbians is the tone--there's a frank first-person tone, no attempt to put on a narratorial persona, only the designer talking about the game from what is clearly and unabashedly their own perspective.

if you want me to look kindly upon your game as a labour of love, talk openly about that love and about that labour in the game's text. you're allowed to do that--often, it will make that game better.

this party sucks is available for purchase as a digital download or a physical zine from itch.io

#tattletxt #bundletober 2023 #ttrpg

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buckychristwrites · 11 months

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About You | Day 12 | j.t.

Summary: Your job? Pop culture journalist for The Independent. Your assignment? To write a profile on the cocky footballer that you're publicly feuding with.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Cussing. Enemies to lovers

A/N: Please let me know what you think! :D side note, this gif is my fave thing that Jamie does in the whole show, im obsessed.

Masterlist | About You Masterlist | Main Blog

Smack.

With every newspaper that loudly hit, it was met with another jump from you, despite the fact that you knew they were coming. It had been a long morning, waking up early to catch the tube into the office, so you weren’t prepared for the loud noises this soon into the day, although you now knew more were to come. You stared at the headlines, reading each of them over and over again, as if you were trying to memorise them.

Tartt Seizes Mystery Girl’s Heart

Tartt Kiss: What We Know About The Footballer’s New Woman

Victory Celebration, Sealed With A Kiss

It was clear that the only reason the room was still silent was because a response from you was expected. You really didn’t know what there was to say. Scanning the words, you smacked your lips together before speaking.

“They’re not particularly clever.”

Your boss was whatever the exact opposite of enthused was, evident by his severe stare and the fact that he hadn’t sat down for a single second since you had entered his office.

“This funny to you?” He demanded, rotating his laptop to display an article that had your name and picture featured. An article you had already seen and gone through the 5 stages of grief over. “It’s funny that they know exactly who you are and why you were there?” You shrugged, a fire burning in your chest.

“They wouldn’t have known why I was there if you hadn’t posted the announcement of the profile without checking with me first.”

His round face was turning a bright purple, but you remained nonchalant. These meetings were so much easier for you to swallow when he made it so easy to argue. At the very least, it gave you the entertainment of seeing him so mad. This time, however, it felt different. You could feel it, and you know he did too. Leaning into his palms, which were pressed against the top of his desk, he towered over the newspapers. Despite the fact that there was still a decent amount of space between you and him, you still instinctively leaned away from him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

You didn’t look at him.

“I’m thinking that it was a football match, and excitement was high, and I’ve been spending a lot of time with Jamie Tartt, and maybe he wasn’t thinking very clearly.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. Although it definitely wasn’t entirely the truth, either. He began to nod as he grabbed his phone and began to type. A few seconds passed before he was sliding it across the desk to you.

“And what about that?”

Looking down, you saw the picture from Jamie’s instagram of you walking in his jersey, something you had totally forgotten about. A hot flash shot through you.

“I just borrowed some clothes. I walked to the stadium and it started raini-“ You stopped when your boss viciously waved you off.

“Don’t fucking disrespect me right now,” He said angrily, snatching his phone back. “Spotted wearing his clothes. Pictured exiting his car with him at the Charity Gala. What the fuck is the matter with you?” Your fingers were in your lap, pulling at each other. Even though you were telling the truth, there was no sense in continuing to defend yourself. His mind had been made up.

Within the hour of the match ending, you had received an email from your boss, telling you to come in for a meeting first thing in the morning. You took the tube in, which gave you plenty of time to settle your nerves. As much as you could, anyway.

Your boss began to yell about professionalism, and how you lacked it, while you thought of Jamie. No real conversation had occurred after The Kiss, as he got swept away by the team, and you found yourself being crowded by paparazzi and journalists as you tried to follow. It took two hours to go home, needing to take several detours to fend off the extra persistent ones. After that, you avoided your phone like the plague. It was blowing up with texts and calls from friends and relatives, asking if the pictures they were seeing were of you. Maybe there had been a text or two from Jamie as well, somewhere lost in the mix, but the fear of looking at your phone kept you from them. Instead, you had spent the night at home in solace, and worked on the article.

Your boss went silent for a while, pulling you from your thoughts. His fingers were white against the back of his chair, making you wonder when he moved there from the desk. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m pulling you from the profile.”

Your spine straightened with the speed of a whip.

“You can’t do that,” You said in shock. He began to shake his head again, but you continued. “I did nothing wrong.”

“You did everything wrong,” He spat. “You couldn’t be fucking professional. Sleeping with the fucking person you’re writing on. Disgusting. I’ll email you when I decide who will take over, and you’ll send them your notes.” The urge to cry was creeping up your throat, but you swallowed it down.

“I won’t be sending anyone shit,” You told him in a firm voice. “I’ve been working on this for almost two weeks. Do you know how hard I worked to get Jamie to trust me? After everything I’ve said in the past?” At this, he laughed.

“Worked him real good, you did,” He said.

The comment felt like a strike to the face, and you leaned even further away from him. All you could see was red. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, his pleased smile only growing with each attempt to come up with something snarky or angry to say. A sort of acceptance washed over you as you knew what needed to be done.

“I fucking quit then.”

Now, the shock was on his face.

“You’re quitting over Jamie fucking Tartt?” He shouted as you rose from your seat. You contemplated this answer before looking at him again, your face blank.

“You’ve made me wish to quit over a lot less, if it makes you feel any better.”

The yelling immediately began to commence once more, but you were already closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to empty out your desk, as you really didn’t bring a lot of personal items to work, and before you knew it, you were at the train station with a box of assorted belongings and a spot in the unemployment line.

The tube was mostly empty, just a few scattered people throughout the car. You took a spot in the back, setting the box in the space next to you while you sat against the window. As the train took off, you lost yourself in thought.

Where to go now? Over the years, you had yearned to move on from The Independent, much like Trent did, but had never bothered to try. Complacency and fear can really hold a person down. It was hard enough landing the job there, how hard would it be now to find a new one? Especially with the tainted reputation you now held? You absolutely couldn’t get any sort of reference from your old boss. Hell, he’d probably have you blacklisted from all major outlets before the day was out.

Looking at the empty seat that held your belongings, you were hit with deja vu.

You can lay on down if ya want. Grab a few winks.

His voice echoed through your mind, bouncing off the walls of the train car. Your head fell back against the seat. Your body ached at his absence. You missed him horribly, and were angry about the things you missed out on. That you didn’t spend the day laughing with him. That there were so many things left unsaid still. That you could still feel the ghost of his lips on your own.

You imagined him sitting next to you, and what he would say if he were there.

Fuck ‘em. You don’t need them. You’ll be alright, love.

Your heart lurched at the thought as you came back to reality, greeted by the sad, grey box that held your belongings. You closed your eyes. It wasn’t the same. It felt like nothing would be again.

But it had to be. Right?

Pulling out your phone, you went to call him to appease the yearning for his voice, but then froze. You didn’t want to call him. You wanted to see him.

You switched to another contact, typing and sending a message faster than your brain could process it. The response came quicker than expected, although you wouldn’t have been surprised if you hadn’t gotten one at all. A sigh fell from your lips as you stared out the window. Anxiety built in your belly, but you knew soon, it would all feel better. At least, you were hoping it would.

When you got off at your respective stop, you were determined as you rushed out. Your foot was on the first step to go up to the street when you paused. Turning, you ran to the first rubbish bin and threw the box on top. It didn’t quite fit, but you still left it. A few people gave you looks as you ran up the steps, some due to your strange behaviour, others because they recognized you from the pictures of you and Jamie in the press. You kept going.

You didn’t mean to run the whole way. But you did. Mostly due to the urgency you felt, but also partially because it was raining so hard that you felt like the streets would flood and carry you away. There was something cathartic about it. Maybe not to your heart, but to your mind. You slipped on the sidewalk a few blocks from the Underground station, almost falling straight into the cement had it not been for the lamppost next to you. It took a second to straighten up again, but once you were, you continued to run.

Within twenty minutes, you were walking down the residential street, rain continuing to pour. Your chest hurt from the running, as it wasn’t something you did with any sort of regularity. With every house you passed, you looked at the numbers on each one, searching for the one from the text. It was hard to see, with the rain and all, but you felt desperate enough, even going so far as to approach porches to properly read them.

It wasn’t the house number that alerted you to his house, however. It was his car, parked in the driveway. Your feet froze at the sight of it, remembering in vivid technicolor the rides you and him shared inside of it. The first one being under similar circumstances as you were in right now. The nerves were really building, as you stared the car and realised you were really at his house, and you wondered if you made a mistake. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to just return his calls? Instead of showing up, unannounced, in the pouring rain?

Am I stupid? You asked yourself. Am I actually insane?

But you still found yourself approaching the door, your feet moving as if they were being magnetically pulled forward. It was nice to finally be out of the rain. You thought of the box in the bin back at the tube station. Did someone else take the belongings for themselves? Or would it end up in the landfill? Not that it mattered now. It was filled with things you’d never need again.

You closed your eyes, thinking of the last two weeks. So much had happened. More than you ever would’ve predicted when you were given this assignment. And it all led to this moment, here, on Jamie’s porch, with you covered in rain water, heart full, and ready to share those feelings with him. After another brief moment to allow yourself to calm down, you lifted your hand and knocked one, two, three times on the door.

As the seconds passed, you felt your heart begin to race. Is he not home? Maybe he went out with the team? Or out to the shops? You knocked again, a little faster, more urgent this time. More time ticked by, and nothing happened. Tears sprang into your eyes. Was this a sign? You checked your phone, ignoring your growing inbox as you went to Jamie’s text thread. Nothing new. Stuffing the phone back in your pocket, you gave the door another sorrow filed look. Would another knock be enough?

No. Either he’s not home, or he doesn’t want to see you, you told yourself. It was that simple.

You all but ran back into the rain, your head down and your spirit crushed. The walk home wasn’t a far one, although you assumed that by how many times Jamie had walked over to your place. Over the sound of the drops hitting the sidewalk, you thought you heard the sound of footsteps, but that was confirmed when you heard someone yell your name from behind.

Jamie Tartt stood before you, already soaked from the storm. He looked a mixture of pleased and confused to see you. His hair was back in the usual headband, sporting a black hoodie and joggers.

“I was on the toilet,” He explained his delay, looking sheepish. You nodded, not caring for a single second what he had been doing. Just happy he was there now. Just you, him, the pouring rain and the bristling trees.

“They pulled me from the profile.”

His face fell immediately, and he took a step forward.

“Because of…?” He asked, trailing off. You nodded, causing him to pinch his chin between his fingers. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have… I’m so sorry.” You shook your head at him, waving your hands in the same rhythm.

“Did you mean it?” You asked him. “The kiss. Did you mean to do it?”

He looked conflicted, like this was a test. Maybe he feared that you were asking in hopes that you could answer to get the article back. Or maybe he was worried that you regretted it terribly and wished that he did.

“Yes.” It was so firm, so definitive. “I don’t regret it at all. I’d do it again. And again. And again.” You smiled widely, convinced that you’d never stop smiling again.

“I quit.”

The curtain of rain didn’t hide the absolute shock that filled his face. You nodded.

“My boss implied that I slept with you to get you to trust me,” You explained. A beat passed and you tilted your head. “Actually, he just flat out said I slept with you to get you to trust me. So I quit. And I took all of my notes with me. So they’ll have to do everything over.” He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head.

“I’m-” He stopped, his eyes squeezed shut as everything processed. “You…”

“I quit my fucking job for you,” You said, speaking loudly but slowly, so that nothing could be uncertain. You took a step forward. “I was miserable. I didn’t want to accept that, but I was.” You laughed, remembering how it felt to hate going into work. It felt like a lifetime ago, considering how happy you had been these last two weeks. “Then I got to interview you, and I remembered why I love writing and journalism in the first place. I quit my job so I can fucking kiss you whenever I fucking want to and not worry about what my boss has to say, or what people who have read my past articles about you have to say. Because I was wrong about you. I know that now.” You shrugged. “And maybe I’ll never get to write another article again, but I’ll get to kiss you, which I think is a good trade off.”

A long time passed where he just stared at you, wide eyes and chest breathing heavy. Finally, after letting you sit in agony for a second too long, he took three quick strides towards you, pressing his hands to your cheeks and his lips were against yours once again. Your eyes closed instantly as you faded into the kiss. It was different this time, with more passion behind it, but the adrenaline that filled you was the same. You put one hand on the back of his head, curling your fingers in his hair, your other hand balling the front of his shirt in your fist.

When he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. The rain was freezing against your skin, yet you were warm.

“It’s funny,” He mumbled to you. “I learned how to behave meself in public, and now you’re out of a job. You were right.” You immediately pulled your head away from his, staring at him with a look of disbelief.

“Are you choosing this moment to make fun of my unemployment?” You demanded, as he laughed. “This exact moment? Right now, you felt it would be the time? After I just said all that nice, romantic stuff to you?”

He kissed you again, and you could feel him smiling against your lips, his body shaking in silent laughter. You wished this moment would last forever. Just kissing in the rain while smiling and laughing in between. No other problems but getting too cold.

You broke the kiss this time, him leaning after you as if he wasn’t ready for it to end. A slight pout was on his lips, but he recovered quickly.

“How’d you get me address?”

“Got it from the highest bidder,” You said jokingly. He furrowed his eyebrows together, and you laughed. “I asked Roy.” His laugh seemed to fill the entire neighbourhood.

“He’d give me address to all the homeless men in London if he could, so I ain’t surprised,” He admitted. You scrunched up your face.

“I don’t like being compared to the homeless men in London.”

“No,” He said in agreement. “You’re much better.” Reaching forward, he brushed a chunk of wet hair back into place, his fingertips brushing against your forehead. His expression was tender. You were still in shock that this was happening at all.

You gave his lips another peck.

“If money were no object, what would be one thing you’d do?” He shook his head at you continuing your game.

“I’d spend the rest of me life with you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“You don’t need any money for that.”

His eyes were staring into yours, twinkling despite the lack of light.

“We’re gonna need money for a hospital visit if we don’t get inside,” He said, grabbing you by your damp sleeve and dragging you towards the door. It made sense. There wasn’t a single part of you that wasn’t wet, and Jamie looked about the same.

“Well, I don’t know if you knew, but I’m not gonna have money for anything coming up soon,” You told him. “So if I would have to just die at that point.”

“Don’t worry, love,” He said as he opened the door, gesturing for you to go inside. “I won’t let anything happen to ya. Not ever.”

He shut the door behind you, and for the first time, in what felt like a long time, you didn’t need that reassurance.

You had already known he would.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fanfic #jamie tartt imagine

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guruan-is-not-here · 9 months

Note

any tips for drawing miguel? I try but this man is too hard

Hmm I'm not sure if this will be useful because I'm aware I change a few things about Miguel's shape to fit my style more

But, I can give you some pointers or things to keep in mind

This man has SO MUCH ANGLES. His shape is sharp, and you can see it sooo much when he's not looking directly at the camera.

Starting with his face.

1. HIS HEADSHAPE. Mainly his jaw- I'm a bit silly when I draw that one so it's hard to give examples and pointers, but it's quite easy to figure out.

his cheekbones can help you as a reference line? I guess.

so, the way I draw his cheekbones is something more about my artstyle, but I use it as my starting point, what you really need it's the diagonal pointing juuuust a little to the center, and the other things I describe here:

And tada! a Miguel-like jaw shape

A 3/4 pose is the same principle, but the connect line is longer cos now you can see his jawline from the side, and the line at step 3 is shorter.

(of course you don't have to follow any of this in that exact same order, is just an example)

2. His hairline is like a M when you look it from the front. So just try to keep that shape rotating when drawing another angle.

3. He has juicy lips:) I mean, is not about ALWAYS drawing them plump, his expression can change that (I can't give you all those examples but I recommend you to check clips if you can to see what I'm referring to), overall, he has plump lips.

4. His eyebrows are thick, and usually keep their thickness, until the very end.

5. His eyes. He doesn't have his eyelids THAT heavy, they're thin, but they're there. also there's some lines under his eyes. Not exactly like eyebags but they add to his eyes.

6. His nose is not actually curved, it's straight, BUT, it's a bit wide, his bridge nose not so much, but the tip of his nose.

7. He has cute round ears:) I guess is not that important for his face feautres in general, but I wanted to point it out

8. HIS HAIR- omg I've seen a bunch of people ignoring some aspects of it, and that's some of the reasons your Miguel doesn't look as much as Miguel

First of all, his ears are half covered by hair going SIDEways, NOT upwards

The rest of the hair does follow the up and down shape

at the end you can go crazy with the pointy hair

And very important, spice it up with some strand hairs around

9.He has a strong and thick neck (and shoulders overall) If you make it too thin it could take away a little from the Miguel likeness.

Is almost as thick as the wide of his face from the front, and the shouldres are not a straight line, theres a llittle bump, or roundness to it

(Remember to match the rest of the body to it)

10. Just a note that remember to put some lines on his face:) Not mandatory of course, but that also can affect how younger he looks

Annddddd I think I don't forget anything?

Hope this helps!

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv #spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #this kept getting longer and longer #I didn't realize how many things I had to remember about making him look like him #guruan #answered

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leilani-lily · 2 months

Text

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 5)

I'll admit, I had this finished a while ago, but couldn't post until now. I have a confession to make... my long term boyfriend of 6 years split with me a couple days ago. And it's been... hard, to say the least. I'm really hoping this wont deter me from continuing to write (especially since this story is kinda romantic, but also isn't? There's deep feelings involved xD) I hope maybe writing can maybe help me as it serves as a distraction? I honestly don't know... All I can ask for is patience as I deal with this. If I find I need a break I'll be sure to let you guys know. But I guess for now, please keep me in your thoughts if you can. Or if anyone wants to swap stories I'm more than happy to share. ꨄ But ok. Enough sadness. This chapter was a joy to write before all the bs happened. I hope it can make you smile! And as always, please feel free to comment your thoughts! SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You settle into hotel life, and whip up Alastor's fave dish! But some drama ensues when you get a little too friendly with a certain Spider Demon~ Word Count: 4.4 K Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You had developed quite a routine here during your time at the hotel, and you certainly found your days a lot busier than you had intended.

Your morning coffee with Alastor that usually blended into breakfast, then joining him in his tower for his broadcasts. He’d always pour two glasses of rye whisky and sit with you, asking for your thoughts afterwards. You’d discuss what you liked and didn’t like, and were surprised to learn he took criticism well (other than the occasional eye twitch). You’d bounce off new topics for future shows together before wrapping up and heading back down to the kitchen for the lunch rush.

After lunch was usually when Charlie would want to round everybody up. Either discussing how to make the hotel more liveable, how to recruit more sinners, or various exercises to improve everyone’s character. Sometimes these meetings were very boring and you’d have to pinch yourself constantly to stay awake. But for the most part they were fun, and you found yourself actually enjoying spending time with everyone. Especially goofing around with Angel and Husk, which usually resulted in Vaggie snapping at you all as you choke back laughter. Sometimes you would catch Alastor watching you with an unreadable expression, but you didn’t think anything of it.

When that would wrap up, it was time to whip up dinner. You managed to figure out everyone’s favourite foods, and every Friday you decided you’d rotate through and make someone’s special dish for them. Everyone enjoyed Friday dinners, always trying to guess what everyone liked, make bets on who was next, and were especially pleased if it was their night. It wasn’t much, but their praise always made you secretly feel warm and bubbly inside.

Finally, after cleaning everything up and ending your shift, you’d have some spare time. Depending on how the day went, you would either read and have a quiet night to yourself, or just completely pass out straight away.

Before you knew it, a month had flown before your eyes; bringing you into the present.

You knew you had no reason to be so nervous. Angel had loved his lasagna dish last week, and previously Charlie loved the pizza you had made (even if others had picked off the pineapple in disgust). You had proven you were a good chef since working here. But this Friday meal in particular… this one was different. It was Alastor’s. Your closest friend. And you knew just how important this particular meal was. It wasn’t just a dish, it was a memory. A way to remember his mother, and you had learned very quickly just how much she meant to him.

Your heart was fluttering nervously as you put the jambalaya out on the large dining table. No one was there yet, but you could hear the chitter of excited demons coming closer to you, so you knew they were on their way. You always tried to make Friday’s dinner special, it was the one meal where you all sat and ate together. Kind of like a little family. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, your heart fluttering warmly at the thought. You went back to the kitchen to grab the cheddar biscuits, your mind wandering back to Alastor. You shouldn't be overthinking this, it’s just a stupid dinner. Did his opinion really matter that much to you?

You re-enter the dining room, and your eyes immediately locked with the demon in question. Alastor’s smile seemed to brighten the moment he saw you, but his smile only made your hands sweaty.

…… Yes, yes his opinion really did matter that much. You really wanted to make a good impression.

“Ooooh and ya baked fresh biscuits??” Angel had zipped up beside you, eyeing the plate of goodies in your hands, “ya really know how ta spoil a demon Baby Cakes!” His fingers danced over a biscuit, causing you to snap out of your hold with Alastor and give Angel a quick slap on the wrist. He zipped his hand away in mock horror, making you snort a moment.

“You know the rules; no eating ‘till everyone’s here,” You scold him, but you can’t help but smile; you could never really be angry with him. Angel groaned dramatically, hugging himself with his four arms.

“You’re a cruel mistress y/n; makin’ a cutie like me practically starve to death! Jus’ look at me! I’m witherin’ away!” he leans up against you, arching his back as his full weight pressed on you. You let out a single laugh as you tried to maintain your hold on the plate and not fall over. He continued to groan weakly as his one arm grasped the air above him and another flopped over his eyes.

Wow. Someone give this guy an award. No wonder he was in show business.

You laugh again at the dramatics and roll your eyes. Finally, you sighed and grabbed a biscuit, offering it to the Spider Demon. Angel peeked over and immediately lit up, grabbed it eagerly before standing up straight, miraculously recovering from his ‘near death’. He took a deep whiff of the warm bread before smiling back at you.

“Yarra real doll toots~” he gives you a flirty wink to which you shake your head in amusement. Always the charmer this one.

“Yeah yeah, well, just don’t tell the others. Or else they might think you’re my favourite~!” You swing your hips to him and give him a playful hip bump, winking right back. He laughed as the nudge pushed him to the side, using the momentum to walk to his seat. But as he sauntered away, he looked back and grinned mischievously.

“Well maybe they should~!” he called back, doing a little suggestive shoulder shimmy and wiggling his eyebrows. You couldn’t help your snort. Cheeky thing.

You knew it was all in good fun; teasing and play-flirting had become your thing. He was like the gal-pal you had never had since coming to Hell, and you could tell he was happy to have a girlie here at the hotel. You knew his real bestie was some demon named Cherri (which he INSISTED you all had to go out one night), but having another chica just a couple rooms down from his own was fun and convenient. And you were happy to be that friend for him if it meant slumber parties and beauty routines.

You felt someone’s eyes on you, and you snapped out of your bubbly thoughts. Alastor was standing in the same spot he was before, not having moved an inch. He was still smiling, but this time it felt a little more strained. More forced. And his eye twitched ever so slightly. You also noticed his grip tight around his microphone. He caught you looking at him and immediately turned away, beginning to walk back to his seat with an unreadable expression.

… That was weird.

Before you could even begin to process, the rest of the gang entered the room. They all gave you a greeting in their own quirky ways as they arrived and made their way to their seats. Angel shoved the rest of the biscuit into his mouth to hide any evidence and happily trotted over to Husk. You smiled happily at the arrival of your comrades and set the tray of bread down on the table. Everyone looked at the spread before them and chittered excitedly, impressed with the effort you had put into tonight’s dinner.

As everyone sat down, you quickly made your way to your seat beside Angel. Before sitting down, you cleared your throat a moment to get everyone’s attention. As the happy chatter died down, you began to speak.

“First off, I’d like to thank everyone for joining in today’s special dinner. Today’s meal is inspired by our very own Facility Manager, Alastor.” Everyone clapped politely and Charlie even gave a small whoop of encouragement. Alastor sat up proudly from his seat at the head of the table, loving the attention he was getting.

“I’ll admit, I was a bit intimidated with tackling this particular dish, as we’ve all heard him boast about his mother’s recipe.” There were a couple chuckles scattered around the table, everyone very aware of how much he spoke of it. Husk in particular rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in disdain.

“I realize I’ll probably never meet up to her standards,” you look back at Alastor and give a sheepish smile, “but I sincerely hope it’s to your liking.” Alastors smile widened ever so slightly, his hooded gaze softening at your words.

“My dear,” he marveled, his eyes never leaving yours, “the fact that you were kind enough to take the time to prepare it with me in mind already makes it wonderful.” You felt your hand press up to your chest, your fist curling up tightly near your heart. Alastor always knew what to say to make you feel better. He could be really gentle when he wanted to be.

“Yea, and not only for ol’ Smiles ‘ere,” Angel spoke up, making you look down at him, “But you’ve made some bitchin’ good meals fer all of us.” he gestured to the crowd, gaining various murmurs of agreement and praise. You looked at everyone and their smiling faces and could feel your chest tightening.

“Seriously, Sugar, ya freakin’ amazing.” Angel continued, giving you a warm smile. He suddenly grabbed onto his glass and raised it high, giving everyone a cocky grin. “Let’s hear it for y/n ya filthy sinnars!”

Before you could comprehend, everyone had raised their glasses and gave a cheer of encouragement. You looked out to everyone and their genuine happiness and support, at a loss for words. You had organized all of this simply because you wanted to, but you had to admit, being recognised felt really good. A warmth began to spread into your chest, and a lump formed in your throat.

It… wow, it had been so long since you’ve had friends like this.

You did your best to blink back tears at the gesture, not expecting to get so emotional over all of this. As you took a moment to acknowledge everyone, your gaze finally turned to Alastor.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking at you, but he was looking at Angel. His eyebrows were tight as his grin stretched in an uncomfortable smile. You could tell he felt your gaze, cause soon his eyes flicked up to you, catching you watching him. In the blink of an eye, his expression softened as he grabbed his own glass, raising it high and giving you a heartening look. You shook the strange feeling from before and smiled back at him, grateful for his appreciation.

The excitement settled down as everyone started serving themselves, the smell of the cooking becoming too much for everyone to ignore. You finally sat in your chair and reached out for Angel’s hand. The Spider Demon looked to you in surprise for a moment, taking in your smiling face.

“That was really sweet of you to say Angel,” you whispered, your grip on him tightening for a moment. You could feel yourself choking up again. “Seriously… Thank you.” Angel's face softened as he twisted his hand so it could grip on to yours. He began to open his mouth to respond.

In a mere moment, you could feel your chair lurch backwards, a panicked yelp escaping your throat as your hand was ripped out of Angel’s. Everyone immediately stopped what they were doing, looking at you in surprise. Angel turned in his seat and looked at you stupidly.

“... What the fuc-?”

Angel didn’t even get a chance to finish his statement as suddenly everyone chairs in your row shifted to the right, causing everyone to cry out and grip onto their seats in fear. Everyone on the other side of the table looked on in disbelief as their friends were shuffled around.

To your surprise, while everyone shifted right, you slid to your left at lightning speed, the chair scraping loudly on the wooden floor. You suddenly jolted to a stop, and you held on for dear life at the force in which you were moving. Before you could recover, your chair lurched forward, propelling you back to the table and new place setting.

… Right next to Alastor.

You gasped in surprise, your heart racing in shock as you felt your knuckles turning white from gripping the seat so hard. You noticed something flicker beneath you, and your eyes managed to catch something. A shadow with a familiar Cheshire grin shimmied away from the feet of your chair before melting into the shade of the table.

Your head whipped up to Alastor in disbelief. The Radio Demon had just finished serving himself jambalaya, not even looking in your direction as he tapped the serving spoon against his plate. With a cool expression, he turned his head to you and tilted his head to the side, as if nothing had happened.

“... Jambalaya~?” He pointed the spoon to the pot and looked at you expectantly.

Everyone stared for a moment, the room eerily quiet.

“.......... Alastor what the actual FUCK was that?!” Angel suddenly exploded, clearly very upset that his bestie was now 2 chairs away from him. Everyone else in your row nodded in agreement, perplexed at the sudden change in seating. Alastor didn't turn his head, nor look at Angel. The Radio Demon simply took your plate and began serving you the ride dish, his expression surprisingly calm and attention only on you.

“Just say when dear~”

Your eyes darted from Alastor to Angel, unsure of what to even do or say. Angel’s face scrunched up into a scowl, clearly displeased with being ignored.

“Hey! Freaky Face! I’m talkin’ to ya!” he growled, his hands tightening into fists. Alastor continued to ignore the spider, continuing to serve you as if it was just the two of you in the room.

“My my, hungry now are we y/n dearest~?” Alastor grinned cheekily. You were still so dumbstruck, your gaze finally fell to your plate and you quickly realized just how full it was getting. Awkwardly looking between Angel and Alastor, you softly murmured a 'w-when'. Alastor gave a hum of approval and tapped the spoon on your plate before setting it back down in front of you.

“Hah, ok Asshole. I see how it is.” Angel chuckled darkly to himself, “I get it. Ya just hate ta see anyone else gettin’ cozy with our little chef. I’ll admit, I didn’t take ya for the jealous type.”

That seemed to catch Alastors attention.

It was only for a moment, and only you were able to catch it sitting so close to him. But you noticed the Radio Demon’s pupils flash, and his one eyelid twitch as his smile grew dangerously wide. But in an instant, Alastor calmed his expression and was back to his suave self. Taking a breath, he finally turned his head to Angel.

“Oh please.” He drawled, his eyes looking at him with boredom, “I simply figured it only made sense for our wonderful chef to sit next to the demon who inspired tonight’s dish. Wouldn’t you agree y/n~?” He turned his head to you and slowly leaned in, giving you a pleasant smile. You felt your heart leap at suddenly being caught off guard, unsure of what to say.

“I, ah, well-!”

Everyone's eyes were on you, and you suddenly felt very self conscious. Being put on the spot like this, and feeling as if you had to choose between your two friends, it was becoming very overwhelming. Unbeknownst to you, Charlie looked at you with such pity, and felt her own blood begin to boil at the situation these men put you in. Placing her hands on the table, the Princess of Hell rose from her chair, her face suddenly very authoritative.

“Both of you need to stop this nonsense.” She stated, looking down at both Angel and Alastor disapprovingly. “Y/n put a lot of effort into making this dinner special; and I won't allow you to ruin it over something so petty!” She continued to glare at them judgingly before turning her attention to you, giving you a quick comforting smile and nod. You felt your shoulders relax and smile back at her, feeling grateful for her support. She really was growing into her royal title.

Angel had his arms crossed and was clearly still pissed, but there was a mix of shame in his eyes after being called out. Alastor’s face remained surprisingly calm, turning to look over at you. He noticed your posture and expression, his eyes calculating as he assessed the situation. Finally he turned back to the table.

“Our Princess is right of course~!” He smiled, lifting a hand and placing it on your shoulder, “I would hate for all of dear y/n’s efforts to be neglected. She has worked so hard; let us forget about all this nonsense and enjoy this wonderful meal~!” His eyes slid to Angels and gave him a hard stare. The Spider demon glared right back, his jaw tight and eyes furrowed with hatred. But after glancing at both you and Charlie, and seeing your faces, he finally grumbled in defeat. With a huff, Angel reached for another cheddar biscuit and slouched in his seat, ending the feud.

You finally released the breath you were holding as everyone shrugged their shoulders and returned their focus to their plates. You felt Alastors grip on your shoulder tighten for a moment, making you turn to him.

“Are you quite alright my dear?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. Despite the calm look on his face, you knew he wouldn't be asking if he wasn't genuinely concerned. You sighed and felt a smile spread across your face, giving his hand a pat in reassurance.

“Yeah, I’m ok Al,” you started, beginning to shake your head and grin as you thought about the shenanigans he pulled earlier. “But seriously, there’s no need to be so jealous. If you want to sit beside me, just say so.” You looked up to him playfully, your previously conflicted emotions melting away. Alastor stared at you for a moment, his eye’s lidded and giving you a blank stare before turning to his plate. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he picked up his utensils and was suddenly very focused on his meal.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about y/n~” he replied. He scooped up a spoonful of rice and shrimp. You could feel your eyes crinkling as you watched him knowingly.

“Uh huh~” you smirk.

The Radio Demon ignored you and took his first bit of jambalaya. Your grin slowly began to fall as you watched him pull the spoon out from his lips, your previous nerves from earlier settling in again. You watched his expression with baited breath as he tasted your cooking.

His appearance didn’t change much; his eyes looking down at the food beneath him, eyes flickering over the plate. After a moment, his eyelids sank down closed as he continued to chew, allowing all of his senses to focus on the flavor. You could feel your leg begin to jiggle anxiously; seriously it was sad how badly you wanted this man’s approval.

The demon lifted his head and gulped his mouthful down, eyes still closed and lips in a small pressed smile. You held your breath as you waited for his verdict. Alastor’s smile grew wider as he lowered his head back to the plate, opening his eyes and looking fondly at the dish below him.

“Well well~” he chuckled, finally turning his head to you and giving you an impressed look, “I have to admit, this is as close as anyone has ever gotten.”

You felt your heart stop.

Is he shitting you right now?

“Of course,” he continued, scooping another spoonful and inspecting it, “it is missing a few things; she’d usually add sausage as well, and probably a bit more spice to it.” he looked fond for a moment, seeming to reminisce to days gone by.

“Nevertheless, it does still taste like home~” He took another bite and once again closed his eyes, savoring the flavors.

You felt lighter than a feather.

Of course you knew you’d never get it exactly right. But holy crap you were so relieved that it met his expectations. You were so giddy you had to bite your lip to prevent yourself from squealing, practically doing a little happy dance in your chair. Satisfied with Alastors response, you grabbed onto your own spoon and began to happily dig in.

You were so carefree in your own little world, you didn’t even notice Alastor sneaking a glance at you. Or how his lips curled up ever so slightly at your antics before turning back to his plate.

The rest of the evening went on without a hitch. Everyone gorged themselves until they were ready to burst, and complimented you on such a flavorful meal. You were so flustered with all the praise; despite the little quarrel that had happened earlier, you couldn’t have been more pleased with how the night went. And you felt more confident with your cooking now that you had Alastor’s official stamp of approval.

The group of demons eventually began to trickle out of the room, ready to immediately flop onto the closest comfortable furniture they could find. You giggled at their behavior and wished you could do the same, but you still had to clean up before you could clock off work. With a final stretch, you turn back to the table and are surprised to see Alastor still in his chair, leaning back comfortably and eyes closed.

“Truly a wonderful evening y/n dearest,” he sighed, opening a single eye to look at you, “There’s something about dining with a group of folks that brings out a certain camaraderie, don’t you think~?” You sighed happily as you approached the table.

“Honestly, it was something I had forgotten I had missed since coming to Hell,” you smiled, beginning to stack the plates and collecting utensils. “I’m just happy to do my part in getting demons to open up more and earn everyone’s trust.”

Alastor said nothing in return, simply watching you as you accumulated the dirty dishes. His eyebrow quirked up before he finally raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Shadows emerged from under the table, making you gasp and almost drop your stack of plates. The same shaded goons from your first week at the hotel appeared beside you and began collecting all the dishes. You begin to tumble over words of protests, but they didn’t pay attention to you as they continued to clean, one even grabbing the stack in your hands and waddling to the kitchen.

“Alastor!” you laugh, turning to him in bewilderment, “Call your minions off; seriously I can clean all of this up myself.” But the Radio Demon merely waved a hand to you as he rose from his seat.

“Don’t bother arguing with me my dear,” he sassed, “You’ve done more than enough tonight; consider this my way of thanking you for a marvelous feast.”

You sighed at him, slightly annoyed. But you had to admit, you were grateful for his help. Today had surprisingly taken its toll on you, physically and emotionally, and you were so tired from it all. You smiled up at him, rocking back and forth on your feet sheepishly.

“... Thank you Al. Honestly.” you paused for a moment, thinking about everything he had done for you in the month you’d been here. And asking for nothing in return. It was out of character for him.

“I just…” you sighed, making Alastor tilt his head quizzically to you. “I just want to say I’m thankful for everything you’ve done for me. You gave me this job, helped me settle in and feel comfortable, and because of it all I even got to make new friends…” You saw Alastors eyes narrow for a moment and you had to bite back the knowing grin. You cleared your throat and continued.

“But I hope you know,” you hummed, “that I’ll always consider you my first real friend down here. And that I’m really grateful to have been given this chance to get close to you.”

Alastor looked at you long and hard for a moment, the air between you calm and quiet. His static sound shuffled for a second before he finally straightened his back and stood taller, his lips pressed together into a large smile. The red demon glided over to you, and softly patted your head, shaking his head in amusement.

“Ohhh y/n, y/n, y/n,” he sighed, opening his eyes and quirking an eyebrow, “I do often wonder how someone like yourself ended up down here.” Now it was your turn to cock an eyebrow as you gave him a cheeky smile.

“Al, you know exactly how I got down here.”

“Ah, that’s right.�� A chuckle escaped his lips, and you knew for a fact he still found your death thoroughly entertaining. “By the way, you didn’t happen to sneak anything into our meal today, now did you~?” He gave you an impish grin. You burst out laughing.

“You asshole!” you guffawed, shoving his hand on your head away playfully, to which the demon snickered evilly. As your laughter simmered down, looked at you a moment before tilting his head up, eyes closed.

“I still stand by my previous statement,” he mused. “The type of folks in this realm are not worthy of such kindness. You should be careful as to whom you trust around here.” He opened his eyes, and his crimson gaze fell to yours. His expression shifted into a serious one at his last statement, making your grin falter for a moment. But only for a moment.

“Well, it’s a good thing I have you around then, isn’t it?” You smiled, taking a step towards him.

Alastors gaze widened a moment, his eyes flickering over your face. It wasn’t often that you caught the Radio Demon off guard, but the rare moments when you did, you couldn’t help but feel a little pride. Finally, Alastor began to chuckle, shaking his head at you again. After taking a breath, he looked back down at you, a surprising fondness donning his face.

“Hmmm, I suppose it is~”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

..... Alastor doesn't like to share ¬‿¬ Fun fact: Angel like's to give you food-related nicknames. Baby Cakes, Sugar, Puddin', Honey Bunz, ect.

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#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #oh deer #leilani lily

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