#and beyond reach holy hell that had some dumb shit in it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

Note

hello!! i've made a request before but this idea came in my brain and i heard your requests were open. So ive seen a lot of fics of the brothers saving mc, but what about mc kinda of saving the brothers, i mean like badass sword fighting style. Just like a stereotypical disney prince saves a princess mc kinda saves the brothers from getting killed by a lesser demon with a sword and just being badass (and sword) and the bros find it hot (weak humans? never heard of them)

*spongebob narrator voice* 400 years lat’er..... So sorry this took so long! I genuinely don’t know why I couldn’t get it done. When I actually tried, I got it done in like 2 days. My only excuse is that I’m a horrible trash munny >.<

Obey me Boys + Power Princess MC

Lucifer

It offends him that this creature, this being not fit to lick the soles of his boots, would raise their hand to him. The attack was not even what upset him, but just the gall. The utter stupidity of this decision to throw one’s life away. The fact that they had attacked with you around only made him wish to end that pathetic life that much sooner.

“Step back [Y/N]. I’ll deal with this quic—” Lucifer cut himself off when you rushed forward. A bright shining sword in your hand as you lunged. Slashing through the demon, who wailed and instantly turned to dust & ash. “What on Earth was that?”

“Oh. It’s my sword.” You reply nonchalantly. Turning around to show it to him. “It’s a holy arc sword, or something. I can summon it from my bracelet whenever I need it. Cool to know it actually works in a pinch.”

“And where did you get such a magical artifact?” Lucifer asked. Perplexed beyond reason, but trying not to show it.

“Lord Diavolo gave it to me when I first got here.” The demon arched a brow. Lord Diavolo? “It would be really irresponsible of him to just let a human wander around hell without some kind of weapon.”

He paused for a moment. Trying to piece all of what you had just said together. Then he just chuckled. “Yes, I suppose it would be.” And here he thought that he had been the only one protecting you. When all along you could do it yourself.

His hand reached out to pat your head fondly. His breast swelling with pride. “I’ll have to thank him for giving you such a thoughtful, practical gift. We’ll also have to add sword play to your lesson plans. I’d be more than happy to be your tutor.

Mammon

‘Shit!’ Mammon mentally cursed as he was hit again.

This wasn’t the first time he’d been rough up outside a club. Given his lifestyle, and his gambling track record, he’d been pummeled by a few bouncers in his life. With his immense power, he could easily take them; if he tried. But then he would be banned from the club, and ever other, and that was something he couldn’t handle over the humiliation of being beat up by these clowns. He needed this. It was all he had.

So, he took his beatings from lesser demons when they came around. He’d only wished they’d picked a different night to get their ‘payment’ back since you were supposed to be here soon.

“Come on guys. Don’t ya think you’ve had enough?”

“We’ll tell you when we’ve had enough!” One demon sneered at him, before kicking a man while he was down. Classy. “You owe us. And we’re gonna get back every cent you owe out of your hide!”

The demon reared his foot back to kick him again, and Mammon mentally sighed. Preparing himself for the kick and really being over this since it began. But….no kick came.

The demon let out a loud grunt over the sound of a metal ‘wack’ before the two, even lesser goons beside him suffer the same fate and they all slump to the ground. “Mammon! Are you ok?!”

The silver haired demon looked up at you in shock. The light from the street lamp causing a halo to form around you, highlighting your worried face as you brandished a rusty pipe like some great sword. “Yeah…I’m fine….”

“You don’t look fine! You’re all beat up!” He just sat there as you dropped the pipe and dropped down to him. Fretting over him as you looked him over. He couldn’t hear what you were saying over the beating sound of his heart in his ears.

No one had ever tried to help him before.

Mammon lifted his arms and wrapped them around you. “Mammon? What—“Let’s get out of here.” He interrupted as he hugged you. Standing up, and helping you to your feet, after a moment to walk out of the alley. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I wanna go somewhere with you.”

“But….I thought you wanted to go out tonight. Play cards. You said you were feeling lucky?”

He couldn’t tell if that was a jab or not, but replied, “well clearly I was wrong.” Though despite his bumps and bruises, he did still feel pretty lucky right not. “I just want to get out of here. I don’t need this anymore.” You both decide to head home to help Mammon nurse his wounds. He never went back to that club, or really any club, after that night.

Levi

“Levi….I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Levi quipped in response to your perfectly reasonable, concerned feelings. “It’s just a little further. Besides, I want to see Henry 1! I’ve missed him a ton recently, and want to make sure he remembers me.” It had broken his heart to discover his poor, lost serpent had been down here, all alone, this whole time. So he made an effort to see him every now and then.

“Yeah but…isn’t this still like super-secret for Lord Diavolo’s family and stuff? What if there’s like booby traps and stuff?”

“Come on! There weren’t any booby traps or anything before. Why would he when he has Henry to keep it…..” Levi trailed off as both of you were ingulfed by a long, dark shadow. A low hissing sound growing louder as a gold, stripped serpent towered over you with a menacing glare. “That’s not Henry.”

The snake hissed loudly with bared fangs and an open mouth, and you both scream and run to get away from it.

The serpent of course chased you. Easily able to keep up, and only loosing you when the two of you duck into a narrow corridor. Levi turned around to say something to you, but you were gone. His immediate thought was that the stranger snake had gotten you, and it was all his fault, and he would never see you again!

When he came to the end of the corridor, walking out like a man on death row instead of running, he looked up to see the snake in front of him. Clearly angered by having to chase him. Levi didn’t care. He wanted to die if anything happened to you. He’d rather die than live one moment without you.

Prepared to accept his fate, the demon didn’t move when the snake unhinged his jaw to eat him in one gulp. Only for a sharp spike to thrust out from his mouth a moment later. A strange, hissing gasp escaping it before it slumped down in a lifeless heap on the floor. “[Y/N]!”

“Jesus! Not to put too fine a pin on it, but this place is literally a maze. One minute I’m next to you, and the next I’m in some armory on the other side of the hall 50 feet away. Are you alright Levi?”

The demon scrambled up the snake corpse to stand next to you and wrapped his arms tight around your being. “[Y/N]! I was so scared! I thought this Henry imposter got you, and you were dead, and I couldn’t think of anything!”

“I’m really ok Levi.” You assure him, as he wept into your shoulder. “Do you still want to see the real Henry? I think I spotted where he actually is when I was running back with the spear?” Levi nodded into your shoulder. Still not prepared to let you go.

Satan

Satan always tried to be a reasonable man.

He hated being referred to as ‘The Demon of Wrath’. It wasn’t his wrath that had caused him to be born. And he wasn’t any angrier than his brothers, so why did he have to be labeled the ‘bad seed’? So he always tried to be level headed. Calm. Patient. But there were somethings he just could not abide. Like the boorish behavior of someone talking loudly in the library.

“Excuse me,” the blonde said, attempting to remain calm, as he came over to the rude demon two tables over, “could you please keep it down? This is a library.”

“Yeah. I know what it is.” He quipped back rather snippily. “What are you? The librarian?”

“No. Just a fellow book lover.” Satan replied. Grinding his teeth now. “And one who can follow the rules and basic social decorum of keeping my conversations to myself in a place like this.”

“Are you calling me stupid?!”

“No. I’m calling you uncouth. A word meaning undignified, and without manners.”

“Why you!”

The demon rose to his feet, towering over Satan now that he was standing. Not that it mattered. Height was not an immediate representation of strength. Look at Belphie. His younger, shorter brother could level a whole city with a flick of his wrist. Satan could easily dispatch of his imbecile without even breaking a sweat.

He never got the chance though, as just after he stood the demon let out a grunt and slumped to the floor; with you standing behind him on his depleted chair with a book in your hand like you had just pulled it from The Stone. “Bet you’re glad I think Kindles are dumb now.”

Satan had to right himself on what he was seeing, and then frowned at you. “I never said that, and get down.” He insisted. Offering you his hand to get down. You hop down with ease and set your weapon book on the table. “Honestly, I could have handled him without resorting to violence or cheap theatrics.”

“Cheap?? This book was very expensive.” You insist, and Satan had to scoff.

“Be that as it may, please do not use books for more than their intended purpose. I appreciate the assist, but I can’t have you hurting yourself or fine literature in the future.”

“You’re such a buzz kill sometimes Satan…..”

Asmo

Asmo always loved going to the club. The dancing. The energy. The pulsing music. The people.

Well…usually the people. Some people, usually bro-dude demons, just couldn’t take a hint that ‘no’ meant ‘no’.

“Come on Asmo! Why are you being so stingy?!”

“I’m not being ‘stingy’,” Asmo replied with a frown marring his beautiful face. “I’m just not interested.”

“You were interested last time.” His pursuer replied. Like that somehow gave automatic permission that things would happen again.

“That was a long time ago.” The dusk haired blonde replied. Sipping his cocktail and looking thoughtful across the spacious VIP lounge over to you.

Yes, things had certainly changed. Once where it would take a whole room of people and attention to make him content, these days all he wanted was you. Just you sparing a moment to look at him made his heart feel incredibly full. He had come here to have a fun night out with you, but it seemed no matter where he went his beauty was always causing problems.

The lesser demon frowned, then looked towards the direction Asmo was looking to land on you. “Shoot, just bring them along with us.”

“Excuse me?” Asmo asked. Beautiful expression turning Ignatius as he sat down his drink.

“Bring them along. I’ve never had sex with a human. But there must be something to it if you’re willing to do them. Not that I suppose that takes much….”

At that, Asmo leapt from his chair and grabbing the brute by the collar. He wasn’t normally one for violence. He wasn’t like his dull brothers. But he couldn’t let a slight like that against you slide. “Take it back!”

The two demon’s scuffle. Clearing out the VIP lounge as everyone ran. Scared that they might transform at any moment and literally tear each other apart. Asmo somehow ended up on his back, a position that usually didn’t bother him, as the other reared back to punch him in the face.

Or, at least he would have if he didn’t start convulsing and fall on the ground a moment later.

“Asmo! Are you ok?!”

The Lust Demon looked at you for a moment. Then delicately covered his mouth with both hands. Returning to normal. “[Y/N]! You saved me!!”

“Yeah. This little thing packs a punch.” You replied. Holding out your little pink taser from She-Sword from your clutch. “I couldn’t let this jerk hurt your beautiful face.”

“No one is more beautiful than you my fierce warrior queen!” He praised. Basking in the moment for only a second before you both scamper off before security came.

You both might be beautiful, but you didn’t want to end up on the evening news.

Beel

“I want to take up kendo.” Beel announced to you one day. Out of the blue. “I’ve been looking for ways to add variety to my workout. I came across this video on kendo and thought it would be fun.”

Of course, Beel knew you had practiced kendo in the past at school. So he might have also been looking for fitness activities for you to do together. In any case, he really liked seeing you in your little workout outfit. It was super cute.

He also liked you showing him the basics of kendo; stance, footing, basic strike movement. When he felt he had gotten the hang of it, Beel jovially asked for a sparring match with you.

“I don’t know….”

“Come on [Y/N], sparring with someone is the best way to learn fighting.” He reasoned. “Besides, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m not worried about that….” He heard you mutter under your breath, but thought that he must have imagined it as you squared off.

Standing across from you in the arena, something changed. The hair on the back of Beel’s neck stood up. Not in the excited way that it normally did when he saw you. But something more….primal. His grip tightened a little more as he realized he might have to get a little serious with you.

It was all for nothing though as the match was over just as soon as it started.

The shinai went flying out of his hands, landing across the room just as Beel landed on his butt. His backside throbbing as his bell was rung clear as day. He rubbed his head as he looked up at you. “I may have forgotten to mention that I was three-time national kendo champ all through school.”

The demon looked up at you with a shiny, sparkly gaze only until now reserved for delicious food. “Teach me sensei!”

Belphie

He hated being out. He wanted to go home.

Being outside in the sun, with all these…..people was hell to him. Belphie would rather be home, in actual hell, with his blanket and pillow and quiet, rather than ‘top side’ with you for the whole afternoon. Not that it was you or anything. You were the only bright star on this miserable day. He’d be damned if he’d let one of his brothers spend the day with you when he could.

“Belphie, do you want an ice cream? Maybe that will help with the heat?”

He wanted to say that the only thing that would help him was getting the hell out of here. But, he bit his tongue. The demon knew how important this was to you to come ‘home’ now & then and he didn’t want to ruin it for you. So he just nodded and asked, “strawberry please.”

He sat in the shade as he watched you go over to the ice cream truck alone. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he was just a hopeless shut in. Like Levi, only worse. He just wanted humans so much that being around them was making him crankier than normal today.

“Geez, get a look at that side show over there.”

Belphie looked up from his daze at the human who was a few yards away from him. Snickering and staring with his friends in a voice that a regular human wouldn’t be able to hear. “If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck.” Again, he was very cranky.

The human was obviously taken aback at being heard and then called out like that. “What did you say to me?!” He yelled, once he got his bearings on the situation, and took a ‘threatening’ step forward to see if he would repeat it.

“I said ‘If you have something to say, then say it, you chicken shit fuck’.” Of course he repeated it. “Don’t mutter something under your breath like a coward. Say it like a man, or keep your gross mouth shut.” This was why he hated humans. No spine.

Well, metaphorical spine. If he kept this up, Belphie was gonna prove that he had a spine when he ripped it out and made him wear it as a neck tie.

“You little fuck--!” Belphie, of course, didn’t move when he stomped closer. Not that he needed to, because he was stopped in his tracks rather abruptly when you stepped between then. Holding a knife from your pocket.

“I suggest you get out of here, before the only ‘side show’ around here is your knife swallowing act pal.” The man seemed to frozen for a moment as he tried to process if you were serious. Then his flight instincts kicked in and he took off running with his friends across the park. “Gosh, I think I’ve been spending to much time with you guys. I never would have done anything like this before.” You said after a sigh, then turned back to Belphie.

“My hero.” He cheered softly, in his typical tired voice but still with a soft smile. Seeming extremely proud of the bad influence he was on you.

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retrogalwrites · 3 years

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Shigaraki x cow girl!reader

Title: “Dark side of the MilkyWay” / see on ao3

summary: You are a hero with a cow quirk, and Shigaraki captures you for himself.

Warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, dehumanization, humiliation, Incel behavior, Shigaraki being a crusty bastard

Other contents: Lactation, breastfeeding, milking, tiddies, mating press, breeding

words: 1518

The shackles around your wrists that kept your arms above your head were the first thing you noticed after waking up, then the pounding ache all through your body. Your body...the realization that you were naked shook you off that drowsy state into full alert, breasts and pussy completely exposed the the cold air. Panic arose to your heart, fear and despair, all of those ugly emotions which you tried to control at the best of your ability, like you had done so many times before in the face of danger and the unknown. You had to get yourself together if you hoped to escape such a dire situation.

As a sense of calm started to set in, you noticed other things, like the soft bed you were bound to, the darkness of the room that seemed to be practically empty. It took hours before you heard the door click open, and while you were expecting a villain to greet you, you certainly did not expect to see the head of the infamous Leage of Villains.

Shigaraki Tomura himself was grinning down at you as he hurriedly walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Seems like everyone's favorite cow is finally up." He sneered, delighted eyes leering at your bare, heaving breasts and pussy so shamelessly that you were pulling your arms as hard as you could in a useless attempt to break off your shackles. Shigaraki only laughed, one of his hands reaching for your head, roughly grabbing one of your horns and forcing your head down, you made a little mooing sound out of pain.

"Holy shit, you really are basically powerless." Shigaraki cackled, his voice ragged and hoarse. Letting go of your horn, he circled the bed taking in the sight of your naked body, a bulge straining his pants already. "That's right, you are nothing but a cow with massive, lewd tits. Who the hell gave you the genius idea of becoming a hero, huh?"

The pained, fearful expression on your face did not match the bravery in your voice. "That's not true, I help people, that's what matters!" You pulled your arms again, the shackles still held you down without sign of giving out. Shigaraki laughed again, a horrible sound that sent shivers down your spine, tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you did your best not to let those tears fall.

"That's real funny, honestly. You should be aware that you're only popular because people love cute animal girls with big tits like you. Admit that you're just a joke, you dumb bitch."

His words stung, pierced your heart until it bled, yet you refused to believe him, refused to let him break you down.

"That's not true, I—"

"I'm the same as them though, as soon as I saw you on the news running around in a tight outfit like some fanservice bait, I knew what I wanted to do with you." He completely ignored you, continuing his cruel speech, his face twisted in a expression of pure sadistic lust.

"Make you mine."

Shigaraki was quickly then getting on the bed. You squirmed and raised your leg to try kicking him off, but he caught you by the ankle. Squeezing down the frail joint, he held you with four fingers, fifth digit almost gracing your skin mockingly. You froze, terrified that he was going to turn you into dust, realizing how powerless you indeed were in that moment.

"If I were you, I'd behave like a good girl, and maybe you'll get out of this alive." Dangling hope above your head like that was so cruel. "I know your fat tits are probably way bigger than your brain, but I'm sure even you can understand what I'm saying."

True to that statement, in that instant you almost understood that there was no salvation, and it felt like enlightenment. Your little ears flopped down, broken hearted, a small moo resonated from your throat.

Shigaraki let go of your ankle and, sensing no more resistance from you, the villain was crawling on top of you and crushing you under his weight. The first thing he did then, was to bury his face in between your ample cleavage. You heard him groan against your chest, the tip of his clothed cock rutting against your naked pussy. Shigaraki's hands gropped the soft flesh to squeeze your breasts against the sides of his face, making them jiggle and bounce. You whimpered at the painful stimulation on your sensitive breasts, squirming as your tail swayed around to signal your distress.

Looking up, he growled against your skin. "These slutty tits are so lewd, you should've tried your luck in adult videos instead of playing hero, dumb cow." His breath tickled your skin, it was scorching hot.

"I've always wondered if you got any milk in these jugs." He squeezed your breasts again, a lot harder, that you bit your lip trying not to cry out loud. Your attempt only seemed to amuse the villain.

"Guess I have to find out."

And before you could process the implications, his mouth was already latched to one of your nipples. His lips engulfed the hard nub as he sucked hard, cheeks hollowing like a vacuum around your nipple. You screamed, the stimulation too strong to hold it in anymore, but he wasn't satisfied at all yet. Shigaraki kept sucking, hand massing and squeezing your breasts until you were a whimpering mess and the sweet taste of milk was finally on his tongue.

"Moohhh~!!"

The moans echoed in the room as milk from your tits squirted into Shigaraki's greedy mouth, and he suckled hungrily, drinking up the liquid. You had milked yourself before out of need, when your breasts became too swollen as a side effect of your quirk, but this was the first time someone else had squeezed the milk out of you. It was like your entire body was on fire. A feverish pitch that was making your head spin, the heat soon pooling at your stomach, thighs rubbing together, the wetness that had started leaking out of your hole before you even realized.

When Shigaraki pulled away from your abused nipple, his spit and your milk mixed together as they dribbled down your skin. You felt filthy, but the lewd sight made Shigaraki more excited than ever.

"Fuck, I can't wait anymore." He hissed through his teeth, pulling back to free his aching erection from the tightness of his pants. You couldn't help gawking at the sight of him, thick cock swollen and impossibly hard, supple head almost purple with a bead of white precum smeared on the tip.

"Wait, please..." You shook your head, begging with your eyes and words for a shred of compassion. Of course, you found none. "Please..."

"That's right, keep begging."

Grabbing the back of your knees, Shigaraki pushed your legs against your chest, breasts spilling between them. He positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance before burying his length all the way to the hilt into your pussy.

You screamed, and mooed, the feeling of being so full was something beyond simply good or bad, it was absolutely maddening, like your pussy had been always meant for that purpose.

Your velvety walls sucked him in, squeezed around him as you adjusted to the size and Shigaraki was cussing, barely remembering to hold your legs with only four fingers as he started thrusting in and out you. "Fuck, so tight...shit..." That small crack in his power, and it almost felt like the smallest of victories in a war you had already lost.

Because the better he felt inside you, the harder he thrusted, until the tip of his cock was hitting the entrance of your cervix, making your toes curl and a certain pressure to knot on your stomach, a build up that was threatening to break your mind.

"I'm gonna give you a nice creampie," He laughed, looking down at you with those red, evil eyes. "I'll breed you like the cow you are, so don't waste a single drop!"

You mooed, feeling yourself overwhelmed by your own orgasm that his words barely registered in your brain. More milk squirted from your tits as your pussy clenched down on Shigaraki's cock, choking his dick in a grip so tight like it wanted his seed just as bad.

"Fuck!!"

He was cumming hard into your pussy, cock throbbing as sticky semen poured into your womb in copious amounts, filling you up with his seed until you were completely stuffed with cum.

A sudden beam of light hit you in the face, the door of the room had been open and the smell of smoke and fire filled your nostrils. You were barely conscious to see properly who it was, only caught the glimpse of black hair.

"Don't you know how to knock?"

"Oops, my bad." You heard his voice, dark and hoarse. "I just felt a weird, sudden craving for milk."

"Right, of course you did."

You could almost hear the smirks on their faces.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tw noncon #tw humiliation #tw dubcon #tw kidnapping #shigaraki thirst

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

Corrupt bf & Pico - you're all mine

⚠NSFW WARNING⚠

How was one supposed to react to panicked text messages sent around the time of three am?

Pico's insomnia kept him from having a decent sleep schedule, so he was awake to catch it. It was from Girlfriend. She sure as hell was never up so late, so what could possibly be so urgent?

"Hurry to my house"

"It's Bf"

"I won't be able to help you stop them"

Pico nearly thought he was reading everything incorrectly. He read those three messages over and over for about five minutes, trying to make sense of it. Stop them? What's wrong with Bee? He figured the longer he sat there, the less time he had to stop whatever was happening. With haste, he hopped out of bed, slipping on his usual combat khakis. He made sure his uzi was on him, as usual. This time he decided to take two with him. He rushed his way out of his apartment, almost forgetting to close the door behind him.

He tried calling her on the way there, running down the empty streets. There was an electric tingle in the air. He could feel something was wrong. He called her five times, and she still didn't pick up. He knew it would be a lost cause, but he still tried to call Bee. He called him about seven times. He had a mind to hit Nene and Darnell up about whatever the hell was going on, maybe the Uber kids finally decided to make a move or some shit? Who knew.

His lungs were on fire by the time he made it to her house. eerily enough, the front door was cracked open, as if someone made such a desperate escape that the doors to this mansion weren't important enough to keep closed. From where he was standing, he could see some lights throughout the house being left on. "Fucking god, what happened.." He grumbled to himself. The silence was deafening, as if time were standing still. Marching inside, he clutched his uzi at the ready tight to his chest.

The air inside the mansion was still, as if there had been no living creature to set foot inside for years. He used his phone flashlight to see, since the corridors tend to be dark at night. He, Bee, and Gigi all walked together through the halls, knowing Pico was uncomfortable by himself.

He was getting that feeling now.

He felt as if the shadows were dancing just beyond his eye sight, or maybe prowling, waiting for him to let his guard down. But when he looked, no one was there.

He stopped first in the mess hall. The light was on here. He relaxed a bit, quickly getting himself out of that dark hallway. It was fucking with his head. He opened his mouth to call for Gigi, but stopped himself. That's some dumb white people in a horror movie shit. If there was something in here, he would be the one to catch it by surprise.

He sniffed the air. Blood. He knew the scent well. He was hesitant to make his way into the kitchen, poking his head around the corner. He could have sworn he heard a scuffling sound, but when he flicked on the light, nothing. This whole situation had him on edge. It would have anybody on edge.

He tried calling Gigi again, quickly rushing to the staircase in the main area. He called her until he could hear her phone, it would give him a lead on where they've gone. It was in her bedroom. He could have guessed as much. The room was a damn mess, as if a tornado had come through and thrown everything around. Oh god, is Gigi okay? Pico felt the blood drain from his face, and his stomach twisted into a nervous knot. He smelled blood earlier, but didn't know where it came from.. There were some spots on the floor near her bed. He grabbed her phone to look at it. Thank goodness he knew her password. He unlocked it and looked through it to see if she called or texted anyone else. She had an unfinished message she would have sent to Pico.

"It won't stop until"

Until what?

"Dammit.." Pico growled under his breath, then set her phone back down. Where the fuck was she? Where was Bee?

He took a moment to breathe in her room. He couldn't lose them. He couldn't lose anyone else. He didn't want to be alone again. Not again..

No... Now's not the time..

With a shaky breath, he stood off the bed, and marched out of her room. He sniffed the air again. Still blood.. but a trail. He looked down at his feet to see the trail of blood. It led down the staircase off to the left. Following it took him to the last place he wanted to go.

The basement.

This never goes well in horror movies and he knows that.

He almost considered not going down there at all, but the fact that this was Bee and Gigi, and quite possibly the rest of the city in trouble, well, he would have to fight again. Just like the old days.

He gathered the courage, pulled out his phone, and descended into the dark floor.

It was pitch black. He couldn't see a few feet in front of his flash light. He could feel it. Them. Her, him. They were down here. He could see the shadows move, he could feel the darkness breathing down his neck. He tightened his hold on his uzi, then spoke. "Come the fuck out, now."

His demand was followed by immediate laughter, which made him flinch. He swung his phone behind him, but he still couldn't see a thing. That's when something knocked against his hand, something cold and wet. His phone tumbled against the concrete flooring, and he was quick to shoot in whatever direction it came from. Twice. Nothing. "Stop fucking with me and come out!" He growled angrily. What felt like an arm wrapped around his waist, and he acted quickly, turning around to grab the source of it, but his arms were quickly restrained above his head, presumably from the same thing that knocked his phone away.

He shivered at the sensation, and was about to yell again when someone finally spoke. "You've always been such a fighter.. You would even fight your own lovers?" It was.... "B.. Bee?? Where are you?" His eyes darted around blindly in the dark, and he bit his lip. "I'm right in front of you, silly."

"Well I wouldn't be able to fucking tell that in the pitch black darkness, dipshit." Pico spat back in response, only for Bee to giggle. "So tough.. Have it your way."

He heard the flick of a light switch, and was apalled by the sight in front of him.

Only about a foot in front of him stood.. Boyfriend? But... Looking at him was like looking into a void. His entire body was engulfed in this black substance. His face was almost unrecognisable. It was as if he had a row of razor sharp teeth to replace his normal ones, and he could only see one eye. That eye was blank white, like his own, only sharper and more insidious looking.

Pico's heart dropped to his stomach. He was at a loss for words. "What the fuck are you.." His words came out in a mumble, like he could barely speak. It laughed at him. "I'm your Boyfriend, silly!" It cooed back, moving only so he was a few inches away from him. Their bodies touched, and Pico let out another fierce growl before tugging at his restraints. They were.. Weird tentacle shit, go figure. He quickly glanced around, and that's when he noticed another body on the ground some ways away, and assumed the worst.

She was breathing. Shallow.

"Gigi! Girlfriend what-" He stopped again. The same dark matter had mostly consumed her body. A painful grin stretched along her face. She looked terrified, yet she couldn't move. The only spot not touched by the matter was her right eye. She looked at him. "Holy shit this is fucked.. Look I'd love to stay and plot evil shit with you, but can you fuck off and let them go?" Pico swallowed nervously. That was about as nice as he could ask.

"Hm.. I dunno.. You just might have to beg for your life first. I have just the thing for you." The thing that called itself his Boyfriend giggled up something sinister. It moved its arm from his waist, then threw Pico across the room. The ginger tumbled to the floor with a grunt, but quickly regathered himself, reaching for his uzi with a quickness. Still not quick enough. A tendril knocked it from his hand, then grabbed his wrist. Pico managed to catch another one coming at him, just barely managing to hold it. He had a scowl on his face. "If you're so fucking bad why not fight hand to hand?" He called out to him, and it scoffed. "Yeah yeah, I'm not here to fight sweetheart." Another one lunged for his leg, and with two apendages restrained, he was pinned to the wall, rather harshly.

It knocked the wind out of him, and he shook his head, but his other leg was caught, and they were spread apart, and his arms were lifted above his head again. Oh, fuck this. "Jesus what the fuck do you want?? What the fuck is your goal?!" Pico was growing desperate. It sure had a knack for laughing at him. "I want to hear you scream." With that, it advanced on him, continuing to walk toward him. One more of the slimy apendages slithered up Pico's sweater, and it made him shudder. It was called into question what type of scream we were talking about here.

That question was soon answered when he felt the flick against his nipple, and the tearing of his favorite fucking sweater off his body. Honestly he was kinda mad about that, but now wasn't the time to worry about clothes! He couldn't move, as much as he tried, then he felt a searing hot pain on his hip. It was touching him, with its sharp claws. All it did was poke him, and doing so felt like it was fire to his veins. The dark matter seeped into his skin, staining the white surface with the black inky void the other two were covered in. He bit his lip to hold back his sound of pain, only to be conflicted with a tendril beginning to fondle his junk through his pants.

"You're fucking sick." He snarled through grit teeth, and it simply shook his head. "Oh Pico," It unzipped his pants, then pulled them down to his knees with ease. "I'm only doing this because I love you." It grinned, but it was only wicked and crazed. Pico shook his head. This sure as hell wasn't his Boyfriend. He let out a surprised grunt at the feeling of his shaft being toyed with, and absentmindedly bucked his hips. His eyes flew wide upon realisation, and he struggled to move again. "F-Fuck off!" He choked out, trying to ignore the heat that rose to his cheeks.

"Always so cute.. Yet you look at me crazy when I suggest you bottom, huh?" Pico shook his head again, trying to block out the words. It couldn't have Bf's memories. It wasn't him. It wasn't. He gnashed his teeth together as it dragged another claw along his abdomen, watching the matter spread against his flesh, slowly, painfully. "Fuck this.." Pico groaned out, squeezing his eyes shut. If he could tap out honestly he would. It laughed at him again, one of the tendrils prodding at his little pink hole. "I mean.. that is the plan." It teased him, and it pushed inside of him. It was already slick with whatever was coating these things, but the abrupt movement had Pico crying out in pain. The ginger threw his head back, and he tried not to make a sound, but this all hurt like hell. It hurt.. But.. It felt so.. good? That had to be this corruption talking, it had to be.

Pico's back arched, and he felt it move in and out, pushing near his prostate, pulling out when it got close. "Oh... Fuck... This..!" He exclaimed breathlessly, moving his hips around as it began to move faster. The thing standing in front of him seemed pleased, wrapping a firm claw around his cock. Good Lord this thing was kinda hot.. Wait. Pico gasped out at the feeling of it finally hitting his prostate, that being enough to push him to the point of tears. "Now, like I said." It began to speak again. More of the blackness had claimed more of his body. He could feel it crawling under his skin. "Beg for it to stop. You wanted me to be.. 'let go', right? So beg for it." It had a cocky smirk on its face. Pico couldn't believe what the fuck was happening. "P-Please.." It took everything in his power not to moan his words. "L-Let.. Let them go.." He had been biting his lip so hard it started to bleed. The creature laughed, damn there crushing his length in his hand. "That's not what I want, Pico dear." It stated vaguely.

Pico rolled his eyes, then tilted his head back. "Please.. P-hah...! Please..! Let them... G-Go..!" He begged, against his wishes of course. That would have pushed him to the edge if his dick wasn't being practically crushed right now. "Awe, that's a good boy, Pico.." It cooed proudly. Pico's face was on fire, from what he assumed was blush. How fucking embarrassing. "Unfortunately you're a little too late." It smirked again, and let go, allowing Pico to let go as well, relaxing a bit as he released blissfully, but wasn't aware. "Now you get to be with us. Forever." Pico could barely register the sinister laughter as his eyes glazed over, and his consciousness was pushed back to be a passenger, unable to stop the laughter that rose from his own chest to join the cacophony of the thing that called itself his Boyfriend.

And now he resided inside the thing that called itself Pico.

#pico x bf #fnfboyfriend #pico #friday night funkin #corruption mod #fnf corruption mod #fnf pico #boyfriend x pico

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uglymanchronicles · 3 years

Text

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

“Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

#my writing #urban fantasy #ugly man chronicles: reignition

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youralternantpersonality · 3 years

Text

Please Take Me

Request: Yes by anon. Embry Call x Reader: Hi! Could I please have a request where Embry saves the reader’s life, and in doing so imprints on them?

A/n: It’s been a minute since I wrote something. So, thank you to whoever requested this! I hope it is what you wanted, and I hope you like it. This request helped me remember what I miss and enjoyed the most about writing. So, double thank you, my love!

Enjoy!

***

You know how they say, always pay attention to your surroundings. Especially at night. And if you're a female (even though it does happen to males too). Yeah, well, guess who decided to not pay attention exiting the grocery store after my shift. My boss, Lenny, asked if he could walk me to my car and I refused. One, because he’s kind of creepy—he’s nice, but he just looks at you like he’s shocked at something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blink at least 3 times in a conversation I had with him. But secondly, I was exhausted.

I had 3 Karen’s and their husband Bob come into the store to complain about the quality of the meat, the long lines, or just because I had an “attitude.” And of course, I had to kick out at least an additional 4 people for not wearing a mask.

“It’s my right as an individual to not wear one.” Yeah, Dick and Barbra, it’s also my right to kick your ass.

“We have the right to not serve you, so go put on a mask or don’t come back. I simply don’t care.” I turn to the phone to make an announcement. “Security, please come to the front. We have a D.A.A.M.” D.A.A.M—Dumb Ass Anti-Maskers. But yeah, my day, like most days, was just peachy.

I always park my car on the side of the parking lot. Right next to the exit way and within eyesight of the security footage. I was halfway there where suddenly, I was pushed to the ground. I looked around and saw no one or thing around. So, I calmly got up, and I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I sprint to my car and unlock it. As I get in, I take a breather and turn on my car. I look in my rearview mirror, and I see dark red eyes looking back at me. Neither one of us moved. You know how you’re in so much shocked as something that if you look away, you’ll be afraid you’ll never see it again or you question if you ever saw it.

Yeah, that’s what is happening now. Neither of us blinked, moved, or exhaled. It wasn’t until a creepy smile formed on its face that I reacted. Before I could scream or move towards the door, they had their hand wrapped around my mouth.

“Drive, and don’t do anything stupid little one.” I nod my head and slowly drive off back towards my home near La Push but just beyond Forks' line. I slowly drive to buy myself some time to find an escape. But apparently, he already knew what I was thinking.

“Don’t even think about it, my little rabbit. Take a left up here.” I follow his orders, and he leads me to a wooded area. I park my car close to the street, and we get out and head towards the woods. I’m not sure how far we’ve gotten, but I know as I look around, all I see is darkness, tall trees, and I can’t hear the passing cars on the main road.

“Let’s play a game, shall we?” he says, squeezing my arm, whispering into my ear. I look up at him, and he smiles and chuckles.

“Don’t worry, my little rabbit, we’re just going to play a nice game of ‘Hound and the Heir.’ You know that child game. Do you know or remember how to play?” he says, circling me. I nod my head, yes, tears coming down my face, not excited for what’s going to happen next.

“Good! How about I be generous and let my little heir go first. Ready…” I know I’m not going to make it.

“Set…” I say a quick prayer.

“GO!” I take off. Not sure where I’m going, not sure what direction I’m heading. All I know is, it’s better than where I was before. In the meantime, I scream and cry for help.

“HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!” I scream into the night—to no one. I hear the demon’s laugh around me. I don’t know where but I try to push myself more to get out of here. It wasn’t until I felt a pair of hands push me into a tree as I was jumping over its root. I slam my right shoulder and scream in pain. The bastard grabs me, lifts me up effortlessly, and tosses me to the ground, landing on the same shoulder. This time, I heard a pop.

Like the Hound he is, he creeps up to me, and just as he is close, he lifts his head and looks behind me, and backs away. I look behind me and see giant wolves breaking through the trees, growling.

“Son of a bitch…” he says and takes off. They all go after him, except for the silver-white wolf. She stays behind and looks at me. She waits until a big black, dark brown and a dark silver wolf comes back. Three other figures come out as men. What the fuck is happening?

“Don’t worry, you’re okay. We’re going to take you back to our place and get you cleaned up.” Says the smaller one with the babyface. I just want to pinch his cheeks.

“Like hell you are! Who the fuck are you guys?! What the fuck just happened? I just got kidnapped, and all of a sudden, I’m supposed to be okay and just allow a set of random strangers to take me again?” What kind of backward hell is this?

“We promise, we’re not going to hurt you.” Says the leaner one, I turn to him to say a snarky remark, but it gets caught in my throat. Hot fucking damn… “Be cool bitch, be cool…wait…”

“There's 4 wolves and 3 shirtless guys. What combination of that says ‘safe’ to you?” I ask him. Instead of giving me an answer, he just stares at me. I look at the others as they're looking at him. The babyface one and another one that resembles a chipmunk starts laughing, and the wolves look irritated or unbothered. Regardless, I move to get up but end up falling.

“FUCK! SON OF A BITCH! My ankle!” I say, staying on the ground, trying to cradle my shoulder while trying to not put pressure on my right ankle. It seemed that’s when Mr. Fuck Me woke from his daydream and came over to me.

“Here, let’s get you to Emily’s house.” then proceeds to effortlessly lift me up as if I am a feather.

“Holy shit, you're strong…don’t fucking drop me.” He smiles down at me and laughs,

“I promise I won't.” He turns to everyone, “We’ll see you guys there. Yes, Leah, stay behind.” He says, talking to the white wolf.

“Great, I’m stuck with a psycho who talks to animals… What is this? The Wild Thornberry’s?” I look around. He smiles,

“Naw, let’s just say you’re life is about to get interesting, cutie.” He says, then smiles and winks at me. Um, sir…please fuck me.

~~~

“And that’s it,” Embry says nervously.

“That’s it?” I asked, questioning as if what he told me was enough to not have a billion questions.

“Yep.” I shake my head.

“How does it work? Does it hurt?” he smiled,

“Yeah, at first it did, but it gets better over time. You should see us when we first phase. You know how when a baby deer or giraffe is born, they can barely stand, and they wobble all over the place. That’s what happens to us. Only we’re over six feet with big heads.”

“Speak for yourself. Paul's head is the biggest.” Jared says, interrupting us. We were at Sam and Emily’s house, and it had been a month since the terrible day in the woods. Embry brought me back here with Leah to get cleaned up. Ever since, he never left my side…not that I was complaining. It was just weird; I never had or even actually wanted someone to be around like he is. Hell, I can barely stand to be around my own family.

“Anyways, you’re giving me a ride one of these days.”

“Not while you’re hurt…” Embry said in a monotonous stern voice…Zaddy. Let me stop…

“Fair enough. Now, is there anything else I should know before I ask questions? I would prefer to have all the information out now; that way, we can move forward.” Everyone—Jared, Sam, Emily, and Embry—becomes quiet.

“And, that’s my cue. I’m going to see how long it takes to annoy Kim before she kicks me out of her house. Good luck!” Jared says, grabbing 3 cookies and a biscuit before running out the door. Sam and Emily give words of encouragement to Embry and leave.

“Embry…what’s going on?” I said, looking at him. He clears his throat.

“Well, there is one other thing. Just to let you know, it’s completely voluntary. You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. You are 100% in control between us. Okay?” he says nervously. I look at him suspiciously. I nod my head for him to continue. “Well, there's this thing called imprinting. You know…you know how after a while, you couldn’t figure out why but you felt like you wanted to be around me—for us to be close to one another?”

“More like need, but sure, continue.” He shakes his head and smiles.

“Well, there's a reason behind that. You know what mating is, right?” I nod my head.

“Like eagles when they mate for life. Right?”

“Yeah! Exactly! Well, that’s what happened that night in the woods. When I looked at you like a deer looking at headlights. I, uh, I imprinted on you.” He says nervously. I start feeling conflicted. On the one hand, I'm glad like a mother fucker that I get to have Embry in my life, but on the other, would he have wanted me without imprinting?

“I know what you’re thinking, and honestly, I actually already did like you.” He smiles as I looked at him, confused. “Last year, at the beach. You were walking back to your car while I was walking with Quil and Jake towards the water. We kind of passed each other. I don’t think you noticed me, but I saw you and thought you were the most amazing person I’ve seen. After that, I may have tried to go to the beach as often as possible to see you, but I never did. It wasn’t until the day in the woods that I saw you again. so my initial reaction was both happy because I finally found you again and because I found you.” He says, holding my hand. I started to tear up and smile.

“That’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I laugh and reach in to hug him without hurting my shoulder and ankle.

“I’m glad. So, it’s up to you, Y/n. Whatever you want us to be, I’ll be that and there for you always.” I smile and place my left and on his cheek.

“I want you to always be in my life Embry call.” I smile back at him. He grabs my wrist and kisses it and rubs circles on the back of my hand. We eventually start closing the distance between us.

“May I kiss you?” he asked quietly. I nod my head, and he smiles. “I’m going to need verbal consent, love.” I laugh at him,

“Yes. Yes, you may kiss me, please.” And he does. It was gentle, and it felt like home. Then it really felt like home when we heard whistling, hooting, and other unnecessary noises coming outside of the sliding door. We turned to look, only to see Jared, Paul, Jake, and Quil being stupid. I hit my face in Embry’s shoulder as he gave them the finger.

Who would’ve thought that my life would go from boring to adventurous all because of a vampire? I could honestly say I would have it any other way…like for real, I would have instead met Embry at the beach, but at least I can say I have met the love of my life.

*Masters List is in the description bar*

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theknightoflameblogs · 4 years

Text

Dinner Date? (AOS Spock x Reader)

A/N: I think this may just be a part one, I do want to continue the story but I was more eager to see if people were interested first. Also this is meant to be read with either a female, male, or non-binary reader! I have been wanting to do a Spock x Reader for awhile now, this is my first time writing one! Enjoy!

Summary: After being hospitalized (and passing out) in Sickbay from a dumb choice you made while on mission, you are surprised to find that Commander Spock had stayed by your side while you slept.

Word Count: 3,338

Warning: Swearing and a sarcastic Bones and cute moments

---

“Shit. Shit. Holy- FUCK!” Was all you could manage to say as a sharp pain twisted into your side. You were currently in Sickbay after having collapsed on the floor just outside of the bridge, nearby crewmen immediately rushed you to a not-so-happy Dr. McCoy.

“Damn it, man, I told you not to eat that planet’s weird berries!” McCoy said in a frustrated tone as he pulled out his scanner. “It’s only been what- two hours? And you are already showing symptoms of infection in your abdominal region that would usually take years to develop!”

“How can you be so sure…” You breathed, gripping at your stomach which started to cramp. “...that it was the berries?”

“Mm, I dunno (Y/N), maybe because of the fact that Jim and I had no berries whatsoever and we seem to be doing perfectly fine. It’s no coincidence, damn it!”

Nausea passed over your body in massive waves, you applied pressure via your fingertips between the two tendons on your wrist in an attempt to get the feeling to cease. You remembered seeing this technique in an article somewhere, but you were pretty sure that the article didn’t take into account your situation. “Well the natives said... that eating the berries was a sign of a... good spirit… a way to connect with them. It’s called respecting...tradition. Something you and the Captain… refused to do.” The fact that it was taking so much energy to construct sentences both amazed and horrified you.

“Maybe those berries weren’t meant for humans.” McCoy grunted, walking out your line of sight. “Just because you're some diplomat representing all of Starfleet doesn’t mean you have to go around eating weird foods for the sake of tradition.”

“Bones,” You declared. “I could really do without the lecture right now.” You only felt worse the longer you laid there, your forehead broke out into a sweat and your face grew hot. You pictured McCoy getting his instruments together from the sound of metal clinking against metal, at least that is what you hoped he was doing.

“Alright! Alright, hold on…” He said, fumbling with what sounded like a plastic bag. “Damn... what would that green-blooded hobgoblin think of this?”

“You mean Commander Spock?” You asked, even though you understood what he meant. “What does he have to do with-” a sharp sting entered the side of your arm as your asshole-of-a-friend, and trusted doctor, injected you with a large syringe. “-Oh, what the hell was that?!”

“That-” McCoy said, holding up the syringe defiantly, “-just saved your life. Well, maybe. Give it an hour or two, your fever should already be going down. The pain will subside in no time.”

“Jesus, Bones, you could have at least warned me before stabbing my arm!"

“Well it’s not supposed to hurt so much without a warning.” You heard him say, but you were more focused on the white walls within the Sickbay, which were beginning to blur into everything else until it became one muddy display. It made your eyelids feel heavy.

“Everything is so abstract looking…” You said half-consciously, watching as different colors danced in front of your vision.

“Well I’m no Picasso, much less a painter,” You heard him say, or maybe you just imagined it. It didn’t matter though, seeing as all the sounds and sights were becoming one big jumble. It didn’t stay this way for long before everything went completely black.

You have been abroad upon the Enterprise for almost a year now, part of its five-year intergalactic planetary voyage. As a Starfleet diplomat, you were stationed on the bridge and tasked with regulating Starfleet protocol and managing peace-treaties and negotiations. Through this job, you befriended many on the Enterprise, especially those stationed on the bridge with you. You were quick to become friends with the notorious (or so he thought) Captain Kirk, as well as others like Lieutenant Uhura and the pilots, Mr. Sulu and Chekhov.There were even people beyond the bridge like Mr. Scotty down in Engineering who you managed to get well acquainted with. You were simply amazed by all these different and infatuating personalities you had come to know, but there was one person- or rather, an alien- who you had come to admire the most aboard your time here.

Commander Spock.

You were only to report on the bridge three days out of the week, the rest of your time was spent helping to ease the tension between antsy crewmen who were getting themselves into disputes and fistfights (even though it was not in your pay grade, and was sure as hell not part of your job description either) and even assisting the Chief Officers in preparation for meetings in the department they resided over (which was part of your pay grade).

It was a small attraction… at first.

The Enterprise was only four months into its five-year voyage whenever the Captain tasked you to assist in preparing and partaking in an introductory meeting (really it was more of a banquet) for the Science Department. The last two months had already taken up your time with meetings (*banquets) in other departments: speaking on behalf of Starfleet, introducing yourself to the staff and crew, helping them adjust to life aboard a starship, answering to millions upon millions questions and concerns. Today would be no different, or so you thought.

You entered the science lab with a clipboard full of notes you were preparing to say in your speech. Contrary to others’ belief, you never used the same speech twice, you took too much pride in your work to do so- except for those few rush jobs where the only thing you managed to have on hand was a speech about how cute yet terrifying Tribbles were. The memory of all those confused faces in the crowd during a Starfleet conference still haunted you to this day. The Admiral was to say, in the very least, displeased.

Awaiting by a table of fliers was the Enterprise’s chief science officer. His back had been turned to you when you entered the lab, and he was still unaware of your presence as you drew closer to him.

“Commander.” you greeted, yet received no reply. That was odd, with you being the only other person in the laboratory besides him, he had to have heard you. Maybe you just weren’t being loud enough. Determined, you took another step closer. “Commander!”

Still, no reply. By now you managed to get close enough to see his face, and you were rather more perplexed to see that his eyes were closed. Odd. You weren’t well educated enough about Vulcans to know if this was some ritualistic standing sleep-like state they put themselves in, but it reminded you of a similar nature that some of the Terran animals back home displayed.

“Just like a horse…” You murmured, before slowly reaching up to touch the Vulcan’s face. You hadn’t realized how close you had gotten to him. He stood there perfectly, his face was so mellow, so clear of emotion, he almost looked like some sort of statue…

A hand caught your wrist before a finger could even graze his cheek, a shock ran through your body, it scared the shit out of you. “What is like a horse?” Commander Spock asked, staring down at you with his full, dark eyes.

You quickly (and embarrassingly) pulled your hand away from his grip, holding it protectively close over your hammering heart. “C-Commander Spock, I-I thought you were asleep!”

“I was not sleeping.” He responded in a calm tone. He straightened his posture and placed his hands behind his back. “I was meditating.”

“Nervous?” You asked half-jokingly. “The whole department is going to be here tonight, things can go wrong, but it will be alright.” It was apparent you were saying this more for your own benefit rather than his.

“I find it illogical to be nervous.”

“And why is that?”

“Based on what I could gather from your involvement in past assignments, Lieutenant. I trust you are more than qualified to execute this meeting successfully.” He replied with a small smile.

You felt your heart swell at the praise, and you smiled right back.

After that day, you and Commander Spock maintained a mutual friendship: greeting one another with a nod or smile as you passed by in the hallways or having small (but quite educational on your part) talks while riding the lift, it never went beyond that, but you didn’t mind. You felt like your growing attraction for him had to be limited in some way, seeing as his thoughts on you are nothing but platonic.

…

...Lieutenant?

Lieutenant (L/N)? Can you hear me?

You felt a rough shake of your shoulders, pulling you straight out of the darkness in a start.

“Doctor, I believe that was an unnecessary course of action. The Lieutenant was already waking up.” A familiar voice said.

“You’re overreacting, Spock. (Y/N) needed a jumpstart.” Another voice responded.

You looked around the room quickly, watching as the blurred figures started to take appropriate shape and form. It was Dr. McCoy and Commander Spock, both peering down at you. Immediately, McCoy started to check your vitals asking you clipboard questions like: How are you feeling? Is there any pain when I do this? Commander Spock on the other hand stood idly by with his hands behind his back, his face could be read as stoic if it weren’t for the fact that his eyebrows were furrowed. It actually surprised you to see him here, but you had a feeling that it had to do with the details of your mission.

"Oh man…" you grunted as you sat up slowly. "How long was I out for?"

"Approximately for five hours and twenty-one minutes." Spock responded.

"Yeah, because (Y/N) was so worried about the exact number of minutes they missed." McCoy said with a loose smile, despite the gruff tone in his voice.

"I may not be well acquainted in human social cues, Doctor-" Spock said, turning his gaze on McCoy, "-But I believe you are using sarcasm. In your case, this would not be uncommon."

"Well good job, Sherlock. Seems you cracked the case!" McCoy said with false praise.

Spock went to open his mouth, you could tell he wanted clarification by the way his gaze narrowed, but instead, he diverted his attention back onto you. "How are you feeling, Lieutenant?"

It was a question that surprised both you and the doctor (or maybe he always looked that confused). “I feel fine-” You said abruptly, “Well, at least I think I do. Am I, Bones?” You nervously looked over to your friend.

“Yeah, you’re fine.” McCoy responded, waving his hand casually. “All we had to do was pump your system full of antibodies and just like that, infection was gone. Thank God we aren’t living in the Dark Ages.”

The Commander approached your bedside. “It seems the berries initiated a rapid case of abdominal infection known to your species as colonic diverticulitis. It’s quickening effects seem to have caused a trauma in your nerves, specifically your sensory nerves, leading them to send incorrect signals. Which explains your disassociation with reality.”

“Alright, Mr. Know-it-all, I’m the doctor here.” McCoy said with a grumble, before addressing you. “It just means those berries infected your bowels and started blending your five senses together like one big smoothie.”

“That is rather an inaccurate description, but yes, the Doctor is somewhat correct.” A slight grimace was in Spock’s voice, causing you to smile. The two always had differentiating opinions. Watching them react to one another like highly-active mind fields was quite entertaining.

McCoy only shook his head in irritation, “Which means, (Y/N), no more eating any foreign soul-binding berries, you hear? I mean it.” He was now targeting you, which was not so entertaining.

“Okay. Okay.” You held up your hands in defeat. “I solemnly promise to never eat any foreign soul-binding berries, again.”

“Yeah, well let’s see how long that promise lasts.” He crossed his arms, before a faint smirk appeared on his face. “You know Pointy-Ears here-” he said gesturing to the Commander. “-was worried sick about you. Got here as soon as you passed out, didn’t even leave your side when writing his report to command.”

You felt your face grow hot at the news. He waited here for you? He wasn’t in the landing party with you when you beamed down onto that planet… you didn’t know how to take this news. But knowing you, you must have been overthinking it, he was just being friendly after all. Still, you had to force yourself not to cover your face in shame as you knew it was red with embarrassment. You didn’t want your friend (and doctor) or the Vulcan you had come to like so much see your flustered expression.

“I was merely concerned with the Lieutenant’s well-being, as (L/N)’s superior, I saw it only fitting to stay by their side until they got better.” You heard him say.

When you felt confident enough to look up from your bed sheets you were surprised to see Spock staring straight at you.

“Uh huh…and I’m the king of Mars.” McCoy sarcastically said with a taunting smile that you wish you could smack off his face. He probably didn’t even know what he was embarrassing you by doing this.

“Doctor, the United Martian Colonies is governed by a uniglobal government, it does not have an establish monarchy-”

“How about I get a drink, and you finish that thought later. Alright, Spock?” Bones interjected with eagerness. “(Y/N), you’re free to leave whenever. From your head to your toes, you are medically sound.”

“Thanks to you, Bones.” You replied.

“Please, it’s only my life’s work.” He said, waving his PADD up in the air knowingly. “And if you need me, which you better not, I’ll be in the bar- drinking the day away.” With that, he disappeared out the door.

You turned your attention over to Spock, who had his gaze on the door. You decided it would be best to head out as well, seeing as you couldn’t control your heartbeat, you were sure you looked like a tomato with how frequently your face was turning red. "Well I guess I’m free to leave since my doctor suggested so." You say in a means of farewell.

The bed's mattress shifted under your weight as you slowly began to peel yourself off from it, it took awhile, seeing as the way you had been laying on it for the past five hours made you stiff,

"I have to agree with the Doctor's earlier statement." Spock said, grabbing your attention. "Your actions were reckless and could have been fatal if it were not for him."

"Understood, Commander.” You responded formally as you pulled on your yellow blazer over your tank top. You felt somewhat dejected, but shook that feeling away. He was concerned because he was your commanding officer. That gesture alone should have been satisfying enough.

“I typed up a mission report and sent it to Command, they requested that you send in a report as well.”

“Thank you, Commander.” You replied, grabbing your Command insignia off of the end table before reattaching it to your uniform. “Have the natives of the planet decided whether or not to join the Federation?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. I was... preoccupied at the time.”

He must have been talking about the report. Thinking about it now, it would be best to complete yours now while it was still fresh on your mind. It was only fair to your Commander that you got it done as soon as possible.

“Well I better head-” You started.

“Lieutenant, I was wondering-” Spock also initiated taking another step forward.

The sound of the entry door sliding open stopped you both, it was Captain Kirk.

“I heard what had happened and the natives promised-” Kirk announced as he casually walked into Sickbay. “-they did not know it was potentially fatal to us and assured- am I interrupting something here?” His nonchalant attitude formed into a more devious one as he looked between the two of you.

“Uh, no, you aren’t.” You said quickly. “What did they say?”

Kirk smirked, briefly shrugging his shoulders, before continuing on. “Well everything is all good now. Just about an hour after you were admitted into Sickbay, the natives agreed to join the Federation. Took awhile for them to decide. They sent gifts of apology to you, I had them sent to your room. Of course, if I had known that I would be receiving gifts, I would have eaten some berries too.” He said with a chuckle.

“Captain, that would be highly illogical seeing as the same berries led to the incapacitation of Lieutenant (L/N).” Spock noted matter-of-factly, making you smile a bit. It was well-known that as a Vulcan, his mind-set followed logic to its core, however you couldn’t help but interpret his words as being thoughtful. Or maybe, you were just projecting that into his words.

“And that is why I am in debt to our wonderful Lieutenant, here.” Kirk said with a dramatic bow. “Without (Y/N), the Federation would not have gained a whole planet as its ally today.” You couldn’t help but laugh as you watched your Captain move across the room like some Shakespearean actor (like running on his tippy-toes and bowing), you decided to play along and twirl dramatically over to him before kissing him on the cheek as though his words just meant the world to you. The scene itself caused an eyebrow-raised look from a clearly confused Spock, the expression alone made you two laugh.

“Am I missing something here?” Spock asked, looking between the two of you.

“Nope.” Kirk responded, lazily putting his arm around the Vulcan’s shoulder, “But you know what you are missing? A nice, hot meal. After such a long day, you two deserve a treat. Go grab something in the mess hall together, Captain’s orders.” He finished with a smirk, making your stomach turn. Why would he say it like that? ...Did he know you liked the Commander? But that would be impossible! You never even mentioned to anyone how you felt about Spock… Were you that obvious?

Before you could open your mouth to say anything, you saw that your Captain was already leaving the room. He turned around briefly and gave two thumbs up and an encouraging nod in your direction, but to your surprise the gesture wasn’t aimed at you, but rather.... at the Commander.

You heard a throat clear beside you and turned to see that Spock was looking you in the eyes. Like, really looking at you.

“Lieutenant...” The way his voice wavered suggested… nervousness. He knitted his eyebrows together and his posture became much more stiff, confirming your suspicions. “...do I have your permission to address you by your first name?”

You felt your cheeks burn again at his request. “You do.” Immediately his body relaxed. “May I, in turn, address you as Spock?”

“Certainly, (Y/N).” He said smoothly, you could tell he was testing out your name. You liked it.

You felt a nervousness build up within you, unsure where this conversation was leading to until Spock spoke up again.

“I would like to request your presence tonight in the mess hall for social engagement and dinner.”

And with that your heart was blown ten thousand light-years away.

“You sure our lovely Captain didn’t bribe you to say that?” You asked half-jokingly, trying not to sound like you were just melted away.

“I do not need persuasion with money or gifts to spend an evening with you.”

How he could say such things without becoming a puddle of embarrassment amazed you. You felt giddy as a warm smile spread across your lips. “Then yes, I would love to have dinner with you.”

“I’ll come by your quarters at eight.” He stated, smiling down at you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

#spock #spock x reader #start trek #star trek aos #fanfiction #cute #part 1 #leonard mccoy #jim kirk #romance #first fanfic

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ghostgothgeek · 3 years

Text

Blush. Chapter 7

Hello! Finally another update!

Rated M for language and actual sex ed talk.

FFN || AO3

---

“Hey guys,” Sam smiled warmly at her two friends as she shut her locker. “How’s it going on your end?”

Danny didn’t look directly at her, but muttered a “hey”.

Tucker snickered next to him. “Oh, I think Danny is having the time of his life!” Danny elbowed him in the ribs, “Ow! Hey, I even used a life or death pun for you!”

“That bad, huh?” Sam laughed. “Can’t say I’m doing any better though. By the way, Danny, I’m going to have to...warn you about a few things. Your secret is still safe, but there’s still going to be gossip about you. Both of your halves.” Sam shut her brain down before she went back to that fantasy. “Sorry, I really tried. The girls at this school are indubitably so fucking stupid, they wouldn’t know what the actual truth is, even if it bit them on the nose. Honestly, how they even made it to twelfth grade is beyond me.”

Tucker noticed Sam getting all worked up and frowned. “Hey, the day’s almost over though!”

“Huh? Wait, what do you mean gossip?” Danny finally looked up at her.

“Ugh, Paulina has some twisted thoughts.” Sam rubbed the sides of her head as she tried to calm down. “She’s been the biggest pain in the ass all day. Just be prepared for any gossip that Phantom flies commando, and know that I tried to stop it.”

Danny’s eyes went wide, “why would they-?”

Tucker busted out laughing, “You HAVE to tell me how that happened!”

“Ugh guys, please not now.” She grabbed each of their shirts and pulled them towards the cafeteria.

“Man, I wish I had my PDA! I hate being out of the loop!” Tucker complained.

Sam unpeeled her banana, trying to ignore any innuendos and return to normalcy, as she listened to Tucker’s bellyaching. She took a large bite as her stomach growled. If Skulker hadn’t shown up on the way to school, she probably would have been able to actually grab some breakfast before this whole ordeal. Sure, she had a salad waiting for her, but that wasn’t going to cut it today.

“Damn, look at Manson deep throating that banana like a pro!” Dash quirked. Danny snapped his head to look over at Sam. Oh god. Woah...wait NO!

Without missing a beat, Sam chucked her half eaten banana at Dash, hitting him directly in the face. She smiled proudly as Tucker chuckled next to her.

“Nice shot, Sam!” Tucker held his hand out for a high five, which Sam returned. Dash made an attempt to take a jab at her, but Kwan stopped him. Kwan had to protect both of his “best friends”, after all.

Danny was silent, unable to comprehend his enjoyment of Dash’s misery at Sam’s behalf. That’s my girl, he had thought. Ugh, why? Why did he keep coming back to this? Sam is just a friend. Dash’s dumbass comment just stirred the pot even more. Now Danny had a new fantasy about his best friend to worry about. He looked over at Sam again and blushed before quickly looking away. With the amount of times he’s blushed today, he didn’t think it was possible anymore. And what is she talking about with all these rumors?

Tucker nudged Danny with his elbow and raised an eyebrow at him as Sam caught up with Valerie and raced for the salad bar. “You okay? I thought you’d always dreamt of Sam hitting Dash in the face.” Tucker laughed to himself. “I know I certainly have.”

“Not the only dream of Sam I have…” Danny muttered to himself.

“What?” Tucker looked at his friend again.

“What?” Danny looked back at him confused, grabbing a tray after Tucker.

“What was that now?” Tucker smirked as he grabbed two burgers. Terrific, Tucker had heard him after all.

“Nothing,” Danny said sternly before grabbing some mac n cheese.

“Uh huh.” Tucker’s smirk grew as he piled more food onto his plate.

“It’s nothing!” Danny insisted as he grabbed the rest of his food and followed Tucker to their table.

“Alright, alright. Calm down dude.” Tucker sat down and immediately took a bite of one of his burgers.

“Sorry,” Danny sighed. “Between dumbass number one and dumbass number two over there,” he pointed towards Elliot and Dash, “I’m not thinking straight.”

Tucker nodded and swallowed as Danny took a sip of his drink. Tucker looked over at Sam, pursed his lips, then paused for a moment before saying, “you know, Sam is actually pretty hot, now that I think about it.”

Danny spit his drink out across the table and started coughing. “What?!”

“Oh relax, I’m not gonna steal your girlfriend or anything,” Tucker rolled his eyes as Danny muttered some “she’s not my girlfriend” line. “I’m just saying. I mean, she’s super cool and fun to hang with, she looked great at the freshman dance, and she already has made mini skirt Friday an everyday kind of deal! Like if she just lost the tights or whatever, holy smokes. And like, dude, she has boobs. BOOBS. We’ve been so close this entire time!”

Danny caught his breath and scoffed at Tucker before realizing he kind of had a point. If Danny had learned anything that day, it was that he definitely had conflicting feelings about Sam. It wouldn’t surprise him if other guys started noticing her more as well. Actually, they had, if you counted dumbass number one and dumbass number two.

Danny forced out a small laugh, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, I kinda…” He trailed off before getting a nod of encouragement from Tucker, silently letting it be known that this conversation was strictly between them and would most likely never be repeated again. “I mean, she’s Sam and she’s so pretty and smart and cool and she hangs out with us, like what the hell? And I ran into her in the hallway earlier after dealing with Johnny 13, and I was bleeding and stuff and her boobs were like, right there in my face while she was trying to help me and with all this dumb sex talk, I had to run to the bathroom before anything happened or became noticeable. I’ve been embarrassed more than enough for one day.”

Tucker let out a loud laugh and slapped Danny on the back. “Damn, dude. I didn’t think you’d ever admit anything.” Danny’s hand immediately went to rub the back of his neck and his face turned crimson for the millionth time that day. “So you ran into Sam, huh?” Tucker wagged his eyebrows suggestively and laughed again when Danny threw a fry at his face. “Don’t worry, dude. I still respect the bro code. I won’t say a word. But like, excusing the fact that she’s like a sister to me for a second, what were they like?”

Danny opened his mouth as he thought of something to say, before jerking forward after Dash slapped him on the back (hard) and took a seat next to him. “You’re talking about Manson, right? She is pretty hot. You’re a lucky man, Fenton.”

Was Dash actually...being nice to him? Because he thought that he and Sam were actually...doing things together. What the fuck was happening today?

“What’s she like? Really?” Dash stole one of Danny’s fries.

“She’s definitely feisty, that’s for sure.” Elliot smirked as he sat across from Danny. This asshole again?!

Danny made tight fists under the table. “Shut the fuck up and leave Sam alone! You guys dated for like a week! That’s nothing!”

“It was enough to cover all of the bases, if you know what I mean. And I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.” Elliot smirked while holding up his phone with the picture on it and leaned back in the chair, nearly falling over as Danny stood quickly from the table, shaking it in the process. He was ready to pounce.

“Shut. The fuck. Up,” Danny growled as he got all up in Elliot’s face. Elliot accepted the challenge.

“No, I don’t think I will. But what I do think will happen is me and Sam again.”

Dash raised an eyebrow at the two boys arguing, “What’s with this? Is Manson like, secretly a sex goddess or something? Maybe I’ll hop on that too.”

Danny’s eyes flashed green for a brief second before almost being knocked over by Tucker, who shoved him out of the way.

“You have a phone?! How did you sneak that in? Can I please have it for five minutes? Please?!” Tucker made a grab for the phone as Elliot held it behind him.

“Depends. What kind of dirt do you have on Danny and Sam?”

“Oh man, where do I start?”

“TUCKER!” Danny glared at his friend, not believing he was actually considering this.

“Oh man, this I gotta hear.” Dash leaned in for a better listen.

“Okay, one timeback in middle school, Danny-” Tucker’s sentence was muffled as Danny slapped his hand over Tucker’s mouth.

“Shut the fuck up!” Danny hissed.

“Oh no, please go on,” Elliot smirked as he waved his phone in the air, “You may just buy yourself 2 minutes.” He tried removing Danny’s hand from Tucker’s mouth.

“Get lost, Elliot.” Danny stood from the table and stared him down again. “Tucker isn’t that desperate.”

“Eh, I think he is,” Dash chimed in. “Foley looks like he’s about to shit a brick.” All three boys looked at Dash, just now remembering he was there.

Across the cafeteria, Sam raised an eyebrow at the crowd around their usual table and looked back at Valerie. “Thanks again for having my back in there. I really owe you one.”

“Nonsense. If anything, take it as repayment for how much you guys have saved my ass from ghosts. And for me trying to kill your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, but thanks.” Sam grabbed a tomato from her salad bowl and popped it in her mouth. “Hey Val, do you want to sit with us?”

Valerie grinned, “Love to, thanks. And he’s not your boyfriend yet. I’ll help get you there.”

Sam laughed. “Okay, sure. We really should hang out more, you know. I need a boost of estrogen every once in a while.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Valerie stopped in place for a moment, staring at the guys at their table. Sam followed where Valerie was looking and ran closer to her friends.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Sam yelled as they approached the group of guys who were trying to tackle each other across the table. Danny and Elliot were staring each other down as Elliot held his phone as far back behind him as he could while Tucker, half on top of the table, reached for it. Dash was actually the most civil at the table. They all paused and fell silent as she spoke up. All four of them were staring at her with a weird expression on their faces. “What?” She questioned cautiously, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious. Valerie snickered to herself, taking a wild guess as to what (or who) the boys had been arguing about.

“Uh, nothing.” Danny forced Tucker back into his chair and sat back down next to him. “They were just leaving.” He glared at Elliot.

When the faux goth and the jock refused to move, Sam slammed her tray down on the table. “Get the fuck out of here before I start kicking people. I have my good boots on today.”

Elliot was the first to make a move to leave. “Told ya, feisty.”

Dash stood as well as he looked Sam up and down. Actually not that bad. Fortunately, Sam missed that, but Danny hadn’t. He was practically seeing red as Dash returned to his own table.

“We’ll talk after lunch!” Tucker whispered to Elliot as he passed by on the way back to the other end of the cafeteria.

“What was that all about?” Sam sat down and stabbed her salad with her fork before taking a bite.

“Elliot and Dash are being shitheads and pushing all of Danny’s buttons today,” Tucker announced as he started his second burger.

“Do I wanna know?”

“No.” Danny picked at his food, shutting down that conversation.

Valerie sat down next to Sam and across from Tucker. Noticing his fidgeting, she smirked, “Must be a tough day for you, huh? No technology of any sort?”

Tucker groaned, “It’s killing me! It may actually kill me!”

“Stop being so dramatic, it’s only been a few hours and we’re almost done,” Sam pointed her fork towards Tucker, “You wouldn’t believe all the shit I’ve had to go through today.”

Danny looked up at her, “What happened? Are you okay? Did anyone say anything to you?” He glanced over towards the A Listers’ table, where everyone was passing around Elliot’s stupid phone and making crude noises and gestures towards Danny when they noticed him staring. He flushed again.

“Chill, I’m fine. I’m just apparently the school’s gossip victim for the day.”

“Yeah, Paulina has been pretty ruthless today,” Valerie pointed out as she started her lunch.

“Fuck!” Sam groaned, which gave a certain part of Danny’s anatomy some life again. “I got salad dressing all over my leggings.” She started unlacing her boots.

“W-what are you doing?” Danny squeaked.

“Taking them off. I don’t want to smell like vinaigrette for the rest of the day,” she started peeling off her leggings and with a brief hand from Valerie, she crumbled them into a ball and tossed them into her backpack before she started lacing up her boots again, careful not to lift her legs too high for anyone to accidentally see anything.

Tucker’s eyes widened slightly, as if his conversation with Danny earlier had somehow summoned this to occur. He looked at Danny and raised an eyebrow as if proving his point.

“Don’t even think about it,” Danny warned lowly.

Valerie hid her smirk behind her hand as Danny gripped the table. Danny and Sam were both smitten with each other and both so, so oblivious to the other person’s feelings.

“Anyway, uh...yeah, you’re probably going to hear some gossip, just please know it’s not my fault.” Sam sighed and took another bite of her salad. “Honestly, how I have gone almost 4 years without seriously injuring Paulina is beyond me.”

“I’ll admit, I’m a little shocked too. But you definitely wanted to deck her after she said you were cheating on Fenton with Phantom,” Valerie chuckled as Sam whipped her head towards her and sent her a menacing glare. Valerie just shrugged, knowing damn well what she was doing. Danny and Sam just needed a little nudge, and she was gonna give it to them.

“Oh my god, WHAT?!” Tucker burst out laughing, some of his soda coming out of his nose in the process. Gross.

Danny’s head snapped up as a light pink blush dusted his cheeks. “Uh, w-what? Paulina thinks...you and I...and you and Phantom?”

Sam groaned as she set her empty tupperware container back into her backpack. “Yes, Princess Shit-For-Brains thinks I’m intimate with both sides of you.”

“At the same time?” Danny asked.

“Oh I don’t need to hear this!” Tucker covered his ears.

Sam kept her head down, hair covering her face, as she blushed a deep dark red. “I tried to stop it, I swear.”

“Suuuureeee you did. I bet you hated that implication,” Tucker smirked.

Sam managed to whack him in the back of the head from across the table, nearly giving Danny another pleasantly unfortunate view once again.

“Hey! When I said I wished girls would hit on me, this is not what I meant!” Tucker rubbed the back of his head and readjusted his beret.

Sam smirked. “Be careful what you wish for. Desiree can pop up at any moment.” Tucker’s eyes widened.

“Desiree?” Valerie whispered.

“Genie ghost. Gotta be super careful around her,” Sam replied. Valerie nodded.

“I...uh, okay...well, thanks? For...trying to stop it?” Danny said uncertainly. He had noticed in the past that when he was Phantom, his emotions definitely were stronger and he had always felt more overprotective of Sam. As Phantom, he almost seemed to have less control over his emotions.

“No problem,” Sam muttered quietly.

“Okay, but can you please explain the “Phantom goes commando” thing?” Tucker leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table.

Danny hiccuped, and to his relief, it was his ghost sense. Oh thank god. He stood up, receiving a few looks from the other tables.

“I gotta run, I need to...basically die of embarrassment elsewhere,” Danny said slowly. Nobody seemed to think much of the phrasing. Though Tucker and Sam both immediately caught on.

“I’ll come help you not die,” Sam replied. Anything to get out of this situation. She elbowed Tucker before standing as well. “Come on, we need to help Danny not die.” Tucker waved her off, as Valerie finally understood what was happening.

“You two lovebirds go on ahead,” he told them, “they’ve got this,” he whispered to Valerie. Danny narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t go around telling a bunch of our secrets,” Danny spoke with an underlying threatening tone. Tucker nodded.

“Of course. But you are losing your fries,” he informed him, and the teen helped himself to the remaining fries on Danny’s plate. Danny accepted this, and he motioned for Sam to follow him. “Also…” Tucker threw a condom at Danny. Danny shot him a look and let the condom bounce off of his chest and land on the floor. Sam hastily grabbed her backpack, and they both fast-walked out of the cafeteria, earning several stares and eyebrow wags.

Danny groaned, “Ugh, fuck me!” He was sick of this.

“Damn, well now we know who initiates it. Never pictured Fenton to be the dominant one,” Dash laughed. Danny growled and began to turn around before Sam pushed him forward and out of the cafeteria.

“Not now. We probably have Kitty and I assume Johnny to worry about right now.” Once out of the cafeteria, Sam pulled out her wrist ray and put it on. She searched for her pocket knife in her boot, pulling out the Ecto Lipstick Laser by accident. “Ahh!” She dropped it as if it had been on fire and watched it roll down the hallway. Danny raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing!” She quickly replied as she ran forward to grab the weapon and put it back in her boot. “It’s just the Ecto Lipstick! I swear!” She said a little too loudly. God damn the Fentons for making their inventions look like vibrators. God damn Planned Parenthood for pointing that out in the first place.

“I know?” Danny raised an eyebrow at her as they rounded a corner. “Let’s just get rid of Johnny and Kitty and hope that takes up the rest of the day.”

“Oh, there you two are!” Speak of the fucking devils.

Danny flinched as he turned to see the ghostly pair that had been harassing them both all day. Kitty and Johnny stood together, both grinning excitedly.

“Can’t you guys just go fuck around with each other and stop fucking around with us?” Danny complained. Kitty gave a small scowl.

“We’re trying to help,” Kitty insisted. “I know Johnny already talked to you, but I’m pretty sure he left out some important stuff, like make sure you wash your hands. Clip and file your nails so that they’re not sharp or super long, make sure your hands aren’t freezing. Foreplay is very important.”

Danny wanted to die. He glanced at Sam, who seemed to mirror his emotions. Her face was red, and she wasn’t even looking at the pair, instead digging through her backpack. Likely in search of the Fenton Thermos.

Johnny gave an amused scoff, and he waved his hand. “Nah, it’s not that important,” he replied. Kitty shot him a look that could re-kill Pariah Dark himself. Johnny instantly seemed to realize his mistake.

“Yes. It. Is,” she spoke through gritted teeth.

“I mean, we could overshadow you to show you how it’s done if you want,” Johnny suggested.

Danny and Sam both froze, eyes wide, and turned a brilliant shade of red before spitting out objections.

“NO! Nope! Not necessary!” Danny yelled as he covered his eyes, thinking that would somehow block the mental images in his head. “I can’t...Sam...ughhh. No, gross.”

“Well don’t seem too excited now,” Sam spat sarcastically, rolling her eyes in the process.

“N-no! It’s not that I wouldn’t want...I mean you’re pretty and...I like...I mean, you...what do I mean?” Danny groaned and dragged his hands down his face.

“Oh, dude,” Johnny shook his head, “don’t go there unless you want to be sleeping on the couch.”

“But I-” Danny started until Sam slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Chill out, Romeo. Now is not the time to remove your foot from your mouth.” She removed her hand before Danny licked it. That was something Danny and Tucker did. Ugh, boys.

“Nice touch ditching the tights though. You definitely had boys’ heads turning...even a few girls’.” Kitty tried to get them back on track.

“Uh, what?” Sam looked down at her legs.

“Yeah, even that big blonde sporty kid was saying some pretty graphic things about you,” Johnny added.

“WHAT?!” Danny snapped his head back towards the cafeteria.

“Oh that hit a nerve! Jealousy works, you know. That’s how I keep bringing Kitten back to me,” Johnny grinned.

Kitty rolled her eyes, “Yes, that is exactly what happens.” Her sarcasm was almost as good as Sam’s.

Danny completely ignored the ghosts bickering, focusing his attention on Sam. “Did you hear that? DASH was talking about you like that! I’m gonna kill him…” He trailed off as he made a fist and looked back towards the cafeteria.

“Danny, chill. It’s not a big deal. Dash isn’t into me because I spilled salad dressing on my tights,” Sam rolled her eyes and set her hand on Danny’s shoulder to bring him back down to Earth.

Danny swapped his attention back to her. “Uh, no...look, I mean, you’re very attractive and you’re only wearing a crop top and a mini skirt, it’s an easy step away from imagining you naked.” Sam raised an eyebrow as she put a hand on her hip. “N-not that I am imagining that, and not that I wouldn’t want to! I mean of course I’d want to, it’s just - you’re just….I’m going to stop talking now.” He glanced down at the floor and hoped he could somehow dig himself out of this pit that he just kept digging deeper for himself.

Sam pressed her lips together, both amused and flattered with only a hint of embarrassment, “You think I’m very attractive?”

“And he wants to see you naked,” Johnny added.

Danny’s eyes widened before he snatched the thermos from Sam’s hand, his face burning. “Alright that’s enough of you two!” He promptly sucked them into the thermos, spitefully shaking it a bit before putting it into his locker. “They can sit there the whole weekend for all I care.”

“Do you though? Think I’m attractive?” Sam asked shyly. “I feel like you and Tucker just see me as one of the boys and that’s how everyone sees me. I’m not cute like Paulina and Star.” She saw the panicky look on his face and smiled a bit, “I’m not going to hurt you if you answer this one. You have a free pass.”

Danny looked like he was having an internal debate in his head about whether or not she was telling the truth about letting him off the hook, but when he looked into her eyes, he knew she really wanted an answer. He never would have guessed that Sam was a bit insecure. He gulped before rubbing the back of his neck.

“Uh…” Was he really about to admit this? Out loud? To himself? To her?! He couldn’t help it, she was giving him a free pass. He started at her pale legs and trailed his eyes up her body to her perfect hips, pausing at her breasts for a few half seconds longer than he probably should have, and finally setting on her face. “Yes,” he choked out, his voice husky, “very much so.”

Sam relaxed a bit at his answer, feeling relieved. She smiled softly as she approved of his answer, and then that smile became quite sinister. “And you want to see me naked?”

Danny was a deer in the headlights, opening his mouth to speak before deciding against it. He couldn’t tell if this was still part of the free pass or if she was just fucking with him now. He was mostly sure it was the latter. He grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway towards the classroom. “Yeah okay, don’t wanna be late for that sex ed class!”

Sam laughed heartily as he hastily fast walked them from one personal hell to another.

#Tucker is my favorite part of this entire chapter #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #fic #stephanie writes sometimes

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aspiring-ginger · 4 years

Text

Thunderstorms Ch.1 (Fellowship x Reader)

Summary: Reader is in for a pretty large and unexpected surprise when a massive thunderstorm hits. How did the Fellowship of the Ring end up in your backyard?

Warnings: Language

Word count: 3,151

Pairing(s): Platonic Fellowship of the ring x fem!reader, eventual romantic interest (Lord of the Rings)

Who do you want Reader to end up with? Vote here!

A/N: Okay, absolutely no one asked for this, but here we are. I’ve been kicking myself for not doing requests or FMN ch2 because of terrible writers block but I got a random stroke of inspiration and decided to write this. I figured it’d be better to write anything than nothing at all! Because this is in a modern setting, reader is from the US because I am, and any slang I use I want to be authentic and don’t want to offend anyone by trying to pass it off as somewhere else. I hope y’all enjoy this!

Comments and feedback are always appreciated! Let me know if you want more!

Taglist: @thunderdog8

Masterlist I Next

You stretched out your stiff muscles as you stood from your desk chair. You rubbed your hand down your face and paused your music, deciding that it was time to take a break and make some lunch. Groaning as you opened the refrigerator door you called out,

"Alexa, play some music" Not really caring what it picked as long as it was something.

You were home alone in your childhood house, and any noise was a much needed distraction from the eerie creaking and groaning of the building around you. Your parents were off in their summer home down south having to take care of some repairs or leasing or something, so they left you in charge. You didn't mind, it was a place to stay while you worked and took online classes to finish school. Plus, you had the whole place to yourself, so it didn't matter how messed up your sleep schedule was, or how much noise you made.

You would have to go to the store soon, you thought to yourself, glancing around your mostly empty shelves to find something edible. You decided on a quick sandwich and some fruit, grabbing the necessary ingredients and humming along to the music as you worked.

When you finished, you debated watching something as you ate or simply eating as you worked. You decided on the former- after all, you'd been on top of all your school work so there was no rush to get anything done. With that decision out of the way now you just had to decide what exactly to watch. You sat down on the couch with your drink and food in hand, looking around the living room for inspiration.

It had been awhile since you watched any of your favorites again, you thought as your eyes landed on a Harry Potter DVD that had been collecting dust on top of your playstation from whenever you watched it last. But no, you weren't really in the mood for wizards. Pirates of the Caribbean? That was always a good one. Plus, it had Orlando Bloom in it so….yay. You snapped your fingers- that was it! Lord of the Rings! It still had Orlando Bloom, but it had that deep fantasy setting you've been craving. You popped in the first disc of Fellowship, extended edition of course, and began happily munching on your lunch.

---

Your heart swelled as the credits rolled, remembering just how much you loved those movies. The scenery, costumes, soundtrack, actors, everything about it was just so, so, ugh! You just loved it so much. You grew up on these movies and they always had a special place in your heart.

They were still super long, though, and you needed to get back to work. You cleaned up the living room and headed back upstairs to finish your essay for class. Smiling, you decided to put on the soundtrack from fellowship instead of whatever you were listening to last. Maybe then you would get more inspiration? Or at least time would pass quicker. Whatever it was, you just needed more to satisfy your lotr craving. You were definitely watching the other two movies when you were done.

You got several hours of good work done, not even realizing when your music had switched to the two towers. You were snapped out of your work-zone when a clap of thunder sounded outside, and you realized just how dark it was. The only light in the room was your computer screen. You went to turn on the light and continue working when you saw lightning flash from outside your window. Frowning, you remembered when you checked the weather this morning and the chance of rain was very low. Of course meteorologists are never really 100% right all the time, but this seemed a little off. How could they miss a huge thunderstorm?

You just shrugged and sat back down at your desk to finish- you were so close to being done! At least you'd sleep well later to the sound of rain. You saved your document just go be safe. Yeah your program autosaved your work but you couldn't be too careful if there was a storm. What if the power went out? Whatever, you just needed to focus to finish the last two paragraphs and then you'd be done.

You glanced up to your window as you began to type when- a huge rumble of thunder shook your whole house and lightning flashed incredibly bright. You felt the weight of the thunder even rattle your insides as you were seemingly blinded by the lightning. Blinking, you looked around to see what the hell just happened. There was nothing but darkness around you, your monitor no longer showing the essay you'd been working on for so long. You were right- the power went out. And holy shit were you glad you saved.

If the thunder and lightning were so close together, that meant the storm was above you, right? You stood up to get a closer look out your window. Wind was howling, whipping the rain and trees all around in the torrential downpour. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed again, slightly farther apart this time, and what you saw outside….well you definitely didn't expect.

The brief flash of light illuminated figures of people laying down in your backyard. What? You rubbed your eyes and looked harder out into the darkness, still seeing the motionless shapes. Your backyard was fenced in and locked, there was no way so many people could get in. And why were they just laying there? In the rain?? You were so utterly confused. There was just no way. You had to be going crazy. This was just you seeing things in the shadows because you were home alone. It was nothing.

Your stomach churned as you paced around your office. Should you go outside? Or at least downstairs to get a closer look? What if they needed help and were stuck in the rain? There were some woods beyond your property so maybe they wandered in. But no. Were you crazy? That's how stupid people always die in horror films. Something incredibly weird and scary happens and they go check it out. And then they get brutally murdered or something. No. Out of the question. You tried to tell yourself that you were just seeing things, making shapes out of shadows for nothing. There was nothing there. But no, your stomach didn't agree. Your gut told you there really were people out there. You saw them in the flash of light. If they were just shadows, you wouldn't have seen anything from the lightning.

Okay, so, there really were people in your yard. What should you do? Call the police? And then what? Hi officer I think I see a bunch of men in my backyard. No they're just laying there. How dumb would that sound?? Ugh no, you couldn't do that. If they were just laying there….how long had they been there? You certainly didn't see anything from the kitchen during lunch. The knot in your stomach twisted further. If they ended up needing help or something and you just sat there doing nothing, you would end up kicking yourself about it later.

Ugh! Curse your stupid moral compass and your need to help others. If this was how you died by being the stupid person in a scary movie, then so be it. You used the flashlight from your phone to light the way through your house, throwing on some shoes and a raincoat as you headed downstairs. Since it was still light out when you were last down here, the blinds were all open and you had a good view outside of both the front and back. There were definitely people out there. Now that you were closer you could make out at least...8 bodies in the grass? You crept into the kitchen and shined your flashlight out the glass door. Your light reflected off of several of the figures. You thought they might be wearing reflective gear or something, but the light wasn't as bright as it should've been. No, that was metal that reflected the light.

You squeezed your eyes shut and clenched your fists in hopes of gathering up some courage. You sighed and tried to calm your nerves. You reached out and unlocked the door, pausing to see if the bodies would react to the noise. They didn't flinch, so after a moment you pulled the door open, and slid the screen door to the side . They didn't react to that either, so you stepped out into the rain.

Without turning your back on them, you stepped around to the wood pile nearby, glancing back to grab a long stick. There was no way you were gonna touch these strangers. Stick in hand, you crept up to the nearest one. Upon closer inspection, you saw what was reflecting the light from the door. Laying in front of you was a man with dark medium length hair. His clothes were ragged, a green cloak hung around his shoulders. It certainly looked nothing like anyone would wear currently. Strangest of all, however, was a sword strapped to his back along with what appeared to be a blanket. Tilting your phone around, it looked very real. A foam sword or prop wouldn't shine like that.

You looked over to another figure and saw a similar sight. A man with medium length hair and a green cloak but instead of a sword on his back, he had a large round shield with what you think was a sword strapped to his hip. What the fuck? You glanced to another, a man with long blond hair and a matching green cloak but this time with a bow, daggers, and a quiver full of arrows at his back. You knew these props. It looked so familiar. Your breathing picked up as you looked over another figure. This one was much smaller. He had shorter, currier hair and again the same matching green cloak. Where the other men had boots however, this man...child(?)'s feet were bare. And large. Much larger than you would think for someone of his size.

The pit in your stomach sank much deeper. You knew who these men were, or, at least trying to be. You literally just watched the first freaking movie. You identified each member of the fellowship of the ring. Aragon was in front of you, followed by Boromir, then Legolas. You saw Frodo, Sam, and you couldn't tell which one was Merry or Pippin from this distance but there were definitely four Hobbits. The furthest figure must've been Gimli. Gandalf was not among them, but that would make sense given the rest of the fellowships matching green cloaks. You were definitely freaking out now. There were a bunch of freaking cosplayers passed out in your yard? What the hell were you gonna do now? Your thoughts were racing, but your stomach was faring much worse. Somehow, you thought, it was much worse than it seemed.

You thrust your stick forward, prodding at the 'Aragorn' that lay at your feet. He didn't stir, so you poked a little harder. You thought you saw his breathing quicken, but reached forward with your stick anyway, just for good measure. The man shot up and grabbed your stick away from you in one fluid motion, drawing his blade with his other hand.

You stood like a deer in headlights, unmoving with eyes wide. The man held his sword out at you, pointing it at your throat while he glanced at his surroundings. You blinked and quickly threw your hands up in surrender, dropping your phone in the grass. Thankfully, it landed face down so it still provided some light. Rain continued to pour.

'Aragorn' looked back at his companions all strewn about then turned back towards you, thrusting his sword in warning.

"Who are you and what have you done to them?" The man spoke and you just stared, mouth agape.

"What is this place? Answer me!" He insisted and took a step forward bringing the blade closer to your throat. There was no way that thing was a prop. That thing looked sharp.

You tried to speak, your mouth suddenly dry and tongue getting caught in your throat. His yelling, it seemed, was loud enough to wake the others, as they began to stir.

"Aragorn. What is this place, what is going on?" You heard another voice speak and a blade removed from its sheath. Boromir stepped up to Aragorn's side and held his blade out at you as well.

Your mind was racing at 100mph but you were just frozen in place, shock taking over your body. How were you supposed to respond to this? What were you supposed to do? Looking at each of them, that was, without a shadow of a doubt, Aragorn and Boromir.

"I-I…" you began, trying to form the right words. Aragorn simply raised a brow, "I-uh.. my name is (y/n) and um, you're in my backyard? I have no idea how you got here."

"Your yard? This is your house?"

"Uh- yeah um...do you want to come inside?" Aragorn and Boromir exchanged glances.

"How are you so quick to invite us in? What do you want from us?"

"Nothing!" You answered a bit too quickly, your voice going up in pitch, "Uh I mean n-nothing. I don't want anything from you. I was just writing in my house when the thunder hit and I looked outside and you all were just laying here, so I came out to see what was going on. Look, I wasn't even armed!" You gestured to your stick that was still in Aragorn's hand.

He glanced down at it and indeed, it wasn't even sharp. He dropped it to the ground, calling out something in elvish, you only picked up Legolas' name. He responded in kind, and Aragorn nodded. He called out another phrase and turned back to you.

"You seem to be telling the truth, and we have no memory of how we arrived. We are in no position to refuse such a generous offer, but know this-" he twirled the sword in his hand before sheathing it, "should you try anything, we are armed." Boromir did the same, and you nodded in agreement. Legolas was helping the others up.

"Please, um, follow me." You weren't sure if you should let them go first or show them in, so you decided to enter before them to show that you really didn't have any traps or anything malicious.

You held your back door open for them as they entered one by one, all looking around at their strange new surroundings. Aragorn was last to enter, and you awkwardly shut the door behind them and locked it. They all looked to you expectantly, dripping water all over your kitchen.

Aragorn cleared his throat and took a small step forward. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This here is Boromir of Gondor, Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and Gimli, son of Gloin. The halflings are Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, Samwise Gamgee and, Frodo Baggins." Each bowed their heads as they were introduced. "And your name once more, my lady?"

"(Y/n) (l/n)....of Earth..?" You winced as you added the 'earth' bit. Here you were with your childhood heroes all standing in your kitchen, and you were just making a complete fool of yourself.

"You have our gratitude, my lady. " Aragorn put a hand at his heart. "Would you, perhaps, direct us back on course so we may be on our way? We would hate to impose." He glanced around your kitchen as he spoke, looking curiously at your appliances.

"Um..about that." You began to sweat. How the fuck are you supposed to tell them that they're in a completely different world with little to no chance of getting home?! "Uh, please um take a seat if you want. This um.. is going to be hard to explain." The men gave you strange looks while the hobbits pulled out your four kitchen chairs and sat down.

"You're not in Middle-Earth any more, but that's pretty obvious I guess. Uh, here it's called Earth. Just Earth, no middle. We don't really have any kingdoms here, each country has their own elected officials or dictators. We're in the United States of America, or the US for short. You um… you're in a different world than yours. And time, I guess. We're also a lot more advanced with our technology than you. Oh shit- um.. I realize now that it's weird that I know you're from Middle-Earth but let me explain ummm" you were definitely panicking now "Middle-Earth exists here? But.. to us, it's just a work of fiction, a story from a book. A really popular book. Like, the whole world has probably at least heard of it. So you're all um, characters in the book. Well, books actually. It's a series. Um, the author is J. R. R. Tolkien and the series is called The Lord of the Rings. And movies too. Really famous movies…" you trailed off.

They all stared at you in shock.

"I can prove it! Here….you must still be in the first book, The Fellowship of the Ring. I mean no offense, but I'm guessing that you just went through Moria and then Lothlorien, and were making your way down the river Anduin and planning to approach Mordor from the north...right?"

Their eyes went wide and they all exchanged looks.

"How do you know that?" Gimli asked.

"Well uh, I can tell because of your cloaks. You got them from Lorien, they have the leaves. And they look new, they're not that dirty yet. And Gandalf isn't with you.." you finished sheepishly. You almost said because Boromir was still there. And they were all still together. Thank god you kept that information to yourself.

"So," Boromir began, "Your entire world knows of the ring? And our mission?"

"Of course!" Their shoulders sagged so you quickly added, "Well the books and movies are super popular! A ton of people know your story, but that's a good thing! Everyone knows your story because they love it and they're rooting for you. They want your mission to succeed and to see the ring destroyed, too." They looked visibly relieved. " I swear on my life that I want nothing to do with the ring and I want you to succeed at all costs. I've grown up loving the books and the movies, so it really means a lot to me." You swallowed as you realized how awkward that sounded.

"Thats nice but, what's a movie?" Pippin asked.

Oh god, this was going to be a very long night.

Taglist is open!

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hcpefulmarshmallow · 3 years

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Anonymous said:

Once i saw a video on youtube explaining a certain "anime character type", and it compared Akechi with Nagito. (I dont remember the other characters the video mentioned) what are your thoughts about it? Do you think they're similar?

You know, Anon, the dumb lizard brain that governs my every impulse wants to point at them and say: “mentally unstable twinks with great hair and a Very Heterosexual rivalry with the protagonist” and call it a day. Here’s the thing, though: my feelings about Akechi started strong and stayed that way throughout my Persona 5 experience, though the nature of those feelings has changed drastically since my first impression. (And I quote: “Who’s this Light Yagami-looking motherfucker? No, I don’t trust him. That smile is the last thing someone saw.”) And I want to talk about him. I also never don’t want to talk about Nagito. So you know what? I’m gonna.

Spoilers, by the way.

---

In short, I do feel they fall into a very specific character archetype. Namely: the morally ambiguous foil to the main character. Not a villain, not a hero, but rather somebody who follows their own moral code. With a dash of insanity, of course, because anime gonna anime.

For me, their most intriguing similarities run deeper than a trope, however, and it all starts with this inflated sense of self-importance they seem to share. I know what I said, just go with me on this one.

Nagito, at a glance, seems to have the very opposite of an ego. Forever putting himself down, calling himself all kinds of worthless, and willingly throwing his very life at every cause that comes his way. But herein lies the contradiction that defines him as a character. For all his espousing that the hopeless may never be hopeful, he still leaps at the chance to become worthy. He wants so badly to be more than he is, that he struggles to see a world outside his own perception. He is, of course, compassionate and empathetic; but, unlike Hajime (or even Joker), whose talent with people comes from their respective abilities to remove themselves from a situation and see it as someone else would in order to make a moral judgement, Nagito cannot fathom a world that doesn’t conform to his ideals. Hope and despair, good and back luck -- and there he sits in the eye of it all, defeated yet somehow untouchable. He can’t watch someone trip three feet away from him without assuming his luck has played some role in it.

Akechi is much the same way, though he owns it a little better. He sees all things as means towards his ends. He has his idea of how the world and it’s people work, and therein lie his issues with Joker. Because he plays by his own rules, which are fundamentally incompatible with Akechi’s. Much in the same way as Nagito becomes fixated on Hajime, the Ultimate, talentless, worthless, most shining beacon of hope there is; Akechi sees how Joker is consistently beaten down by life and yet strives to carve his own path, and is unable to cope with either the jealously or the admiration he feels, never mind any combination thereof. Moreover, he, too, desires to rise above and be more than he is: the hero of his own story, despite taking rather unheroic steps to get there.

I would, of course, be remiss not to mention the similarities in their upbringings that lead to these insecurities. Nagito lost both his parents at a young age, and from there, we’re given no indication of any long-term adult influence in his life. Quite the opposite, he seems to have been demeaned and shunned by his extended family at large. It is also implied at times that his parents were not very loving, though there is some debate around that, so take it as you will. Akechi was abandoned by his father who deemed his mother beneath him because she was a sex worker, and was left with a seething hatred for the man because of it. After his mother’s suicide, he was passed from institution to institution, likewise having no long-term positive influence in his life.

Both were left to, essentially, raise themselves; glean their own image of the world and build their moral compass around lives that were unimaginably cruel, ruthless, and unfair. Thus, it’s likely their worst behaviours could have been avoided, had they stable home lives. Of course, this is no excuse, plenty of people grow up in unstable environments and don’t go on to harm others, however, it places them a step above senseless. In fact, they also share an incredible intellect, charm, good looks, and quite the way with words. If you’ve played both games, you know what I’m talking about.

Furthermore, they have this habit of standing on the outside, looking in. Nagito spends much of DR2 implying heavily that he would like to spend more time with the others as their friend, but does little to actually reach out to them. Viewing himself below them, and seeing no reason why such incredible people would want to hang out with trash like him. Akechi also keeps the Thieves at a distance. There are many times when they reach out to him, offer to help him find his way -- and he almost seems to want to. Yet it is as if he doesn’t know how. He has no idea what, besides hatred and spite, could possibly fuel him. Nor does he really know what there is for him to gain from forming genuine bonds with others, or why he should want them. But he does, that much is clear. They each crave acceptance, while accepting it as a lost cause, even as the protagonist of their respective games has their hand out to them. And this, once again, can likely be traced to their equally terrible upbringings, and lack of any real understanding of the world as it is, rather than as they see it.

I could absolutely go on all day down this path. And, hell, at some point, I might. But the overall theme I’m getting at here, is this delicate balance these two characters walk. Being soft and charming, and deadly and dangerous. Intelligent, yet profoundly ignorant. Eccentric and borderline reprehensible, but at the same time, deeply relatable, and extremely likeable. They aren’t psycho for the sake of it, and I’ll argue that to my grave. But moreover, what we have here is the ultimate products of the worlds they were made for. Parallels are drawn constantly between Nagito and Hajime, Akechi and Joker, in a “there but for the grace of god go I” way, and it falls the same every time. Joker forged a home among friends, and people he considered family. Even after being hurt, he found the strength to be vulnerable for someone, and that someone happened to be the right someone; and though these people, he became stronger still. Likewise, Hajime took risks, took responsibility, and became respected and loved through hard work and compassion. He faced his own fear of worthlessness, and in the end, he didn’t fold to it the way Nagito did. He built his own purpose in life, and it was as full of hope as any Ultimate’s. These are feats beyond comprehension to our antiheroes, who may well have turned out to be the heroes after all if they’d only been shown the same support and care. And that’s why I think this character type appeals to so many people, and why these characters become so beloved. I think we become invested in their stories, and we want to show them compassion. There’s a reason why Nagito and Akechi are frequently shipped around, why they exist in so many fix-it fics. At the end of the day, we know the difference between bad people, and people who do bad things. It’s that, the latter may not be beyond saving.

And finally, can I...? If you’ve played the third semester of Royal, they really just make Akechi Like That, huh? In the original Japanese, he was apparently supposed to just come off as tired and not particularly wanting to mend any of his relationships or mistakes since he knew his death was looming, so I’m not sure why they took one look at this complex character development and said, “Hm, let’s just make him balls to the wall, shall we?” but hey. I’ve got to give it to his VA, I had to put down my controller several times because holy shit. Just. Holy shit. Give that man all of the awards. All of them, every single one, please.

#meta;#nagito komaeda #goro akechi #ok to rb #( tagging bc someone might enjoy idk??#i haven't slept in four days appreciate my semi-coherent babbling #no proofreading though we die like men )

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soulwillower · 4 years

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taboos and the absurd • richie tozier

(professor richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: professor richie smut 🤤

warning: smut, fingering, professor richie, dirty talk, unedited babey

[losers + reader are 20+ in this]

1.4k words

i love this and let me know if you guys want me to turn this into a lil series!

♡

on the first day of class, you’d thought that your “taboos and the absurd” rhetoric class would be a nightmare. at least, you had to expect that it would live up to it's name.

it definitely did.

your professor was insane at first glance, mostly because he refused to act like one.

he was very young - couldn’t be older than twenty seven, and yet talked with the kind of authority that made people listen.

professor tozier swore like a sailer, comes in hung over at least one time almost every week, and flirts unashamedly with the students, always keeping it respectable and never enough to make anyone uncomfortable.

not that he could make you uncomfortable. in fact, quite the opposite.

he claimed that his own class was ‘bullshit’ because of some reasons that were very philosophical and well beyond your knowledge of ethics. he was confusing, a really hard grader, and you were very frustrated because despite that, you still wanted him constantly.

that’s not to say you didn’t enjoy his lectures. he was so eccentric, he was funny, and he was so fucking hot. he’d waltz into class late almost every lecture, his shirts always tucked into black jeans instead of the traditional slacks. he was very untraditional, he knew everybody in the class by name and he wasn’t afraid to give you shit for anything anyone did. mostly because he insisted the best way to win a rhetoric was to ‘submit to the obvious,’ whatever the hell that meant.

but you’re nearing the end of the semester and your hand is hovering on the door handle if his office, nervous to go in. you needed to go over your recent paper, an argumentative essay on the ethics of relationships between subordinates and their superiors. it was one of the ones listed as a possible essay topic, and professor tozier never really went much into it, but you knew you were sold. and you tell yourself it's not because you want him, but it is.

so you twist the doorknob and you walk in to see professor tozier sitting with his feet up on the desk, drumming his fingers on his chest as he stared at his screen.

he smirks that dumb smirk he always wears and you feel flustered as he sits up, “ah, ms. y/l/n. to what do i owe this pleasure?”

“hi, professor tozier. i wanted to talk about my argumentative paper.” you say shyly, taking a seat across from his desk.

he shakes his head, “it’s office hours, y/n. you can call me richie.” he says with a slight wink and you have to restrain yourself from blushing as you pull your laptop out.

“okay, um- r-richie.” you say, thinking that the name suits him very well. “i feel like my argument is lacking in drive. like, i know what i’m trying to say but i don’t know how to get it out.” you say as you bite your lip.

“well, i always say that experience is the best weapon in any argument’s case. what’s your topic?” he asks, pulling a pen from his mouth and looking up at you.

your mouth dries at his words, feeling awkward. oh, fuck. experience?

you stutter, “um, i’m writing about r-relationships between superiors and subordinates.” you say awkwardly, watching as his face contorts. he chuckles, “i see. and what do you think, y/n?” he asks you with a sly grin.

you can’t help yourself from blushing this time because you know he’s teasing you. “i’m writing that in some cases, it’s acceptable. or at least it shouldn’t be so... um, taboo.” he hums, reading over the first few paragraphs with a hint of a smile. “isn’t that the point though? it’s hotter because it’s wrong.” he says casually, as if you’re not about to scream.

“r-right... i’m, um, i’m making a point to specify sexual relationships and platonic ones.” you say in a rush. you chuckle awkwardly, adding “you still think i need personal experience?” you intend to make it sound like a joke but the way he looks at you, you want to eat your words.

he smirks, “depends on what you want. don’t think you should be writing about it if you do, though.”

you can’t stop yourself as you look up at him through your lashes, “well how would i go about that?”

“i think you just have to ask.” he mutters, his eyes mischievous and dark. “i’ve seen the way you look at me.” he adds quietly. your stomach drops, “sir, i’m sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable, i don’t mean to make it o-obvious-“ you start to say, but he shakes his head, holding a hand up to cut off your word vomit.

“i’m not saying that at all, in fact i would be mistaken if i said i didn’t look at you the same way.” he says, placing his elbows on the desk separating the two of you. “i’m just saying... you know, for experience’s sake.” he smirks and goddamn it if you don’t swoon. you have to press your thighs together as you watch him with doe eyes.

he looks like heaven and hell all wrapped into one, and you figure what the hell, it’s worth a shot. “can you show me, sir?” you ask, your stomach swirling in anticipation.

he leans back on his chair, staring at you with a seductive look. he pats his lap, “c’mere then, princess.”

holy shit. you basically sprint around his desk and he pulls you by your hips onto his lap. your heart is beating loudly as he looks at you with hooded eyes, a grin on his face.

this is the closest you’ve ever been to him and you can smell the intoxicating scent of cigarettes, aftershave, and something almost vanilla. his lips are in a smirk as he says, “now was that so hard?”

you whimper as his large hand rubs your thigh, riding your the hem of your skirt. “what do you want, baby?” he says lowly. his fingers graze the hem of your skirt and you let out a mewl, “please touch me, richie.”

“good girl.” he mutters quietly and you can’t help but steady yourself on his knee because you think you’re gonna die.

he groans to himself as his fingers rub you over your panties, feeling how damp you are. “so wet, aren’t you?” he says, pressing his pointer finger against your clothes clit, making you bite back a strangled moan.

“you want me to finger you, sweetheart?” he asks into your neck, making you break out in shivers at the feeling of his lips on you. “please, richie. yes,” you gasp, sounding choked and just as desperate as you feel. he smirks against your neck.

“open up.” he says softly, pulling your hair away and tapping his fingers against your lips. you oblige eagerly and he chuckles lightly, slipping his fingers into your mouth. he watches you intently as you suck on his long fingers, your tongue swirling around them. he slides them out after a few moments and drags your panties to the side.

“be a good girl and i’ll let you cum.” he whispers into your ear as he slips one finger in. you gasp at the sensation and the angle as you’re sat sideways on your professor’s lap.

you look at him in pleasure and whimper as he starts to pump slowly, picking up the pace after a few thrusts.

you’re writhing in his lap once he ads a second finger and you have to grip his chest. he’s muttering dirty things in your ear and you can’t help but clench in pleasure as he rubs your clit with his thumb.

as he’s fucking you with his fingers, his other hand is holding you against his chest and rubbing your arm. “so good, baby.” he mutters into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck.

you moan as he’s curling his fingers and hitting the perfect spot inside you, making you clentch your legs inadvertently. he tuts, pulling your legs back open and rubbing your clit harshly. “you gonna cum on my fingers, princess?” he asks, pulling your jaw you you’re staring into each other’s eyes.

you nod, words failing you as you whimper, feeling the most pleasures you ever have in your life - and hes only using your fingers. his fingers move into you expertly, deftly and roughly and you want to scream in pleasure. “richie!” you gasp as you finally cum, your body shaking in pleasure. he’s kissing your neck softly and then he’s pulling his fingers out of you, pulling your panties back to how they were and rubbing your hip.

you’re gasping, legs shaking and you’re about to mention helping with his hard-on that you can feel on your ass but footsteps outside his door make you hop up, smoothing your skirt.

richie clears his throat as you turn, but he grabs your hand and pulls you toward him quickly, pressing a heated but short kiss to your lips. he pulls away with a cocky smirk that makes you weak and your hand comes up to touch your lips. he’d kissed you. he’d just fingered you. and you loved how wrong it was.

a knock on the door makes you jump and walk to grab your bag, richie watches you as he calls, “come in!” one of the girls from your class walks in, smiling at richie. your chest boils at her look, but you shake your head. he’s not yours and it's not okay to be jealous. you turn on your heel, walking to the door on shaky legs.

as you reach the door, richie calls out, “my door is always open, ms y/l/n. i hope to see you again soon to go over more content.” he sounds professional but as you turn to look at him, his face is more suggestive than you’d ever seen. the other girl seems to think nothing of it as you wave, mumbling a “th-thank you, sir.” before you slip out.

#richie tozier #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier smut #losers x reader #losers club x reader #bill denbrough #stanley uris #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #my writing #bill denbrough smut #stanley uris smut #prof richie🥵

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jeeperso · 3 years

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D&D Quotes Without Context

Ravenloft Edition, Dementlieu Arc part 2

Alright, it's night. Jonni: “The best time for arson!” Jonni, you are up spending some quality time with Vesh. Jonni: “The best time for arson!” "YOU COME INTO MY CITY WITH A PARADE, PUTTING ON A FARCE FOR THE MASSES, YOU FOOL THEM BUT YOU DO NOT FOOL ME. NOW FACE MY JUDGEMENT." They point a bony finger at Vesh and....nothing happens. They point a few more times, expecting something to happen. Vesh sighs. "You done?" “Hey, buddy, I told you, she’s a Princess. Maybe not of a big nation, but a Princess is a Princess.” "...Well I guess she is. Sorry for disturbing you." And the spirit then awkwardly shuffles out. "That reminds me, I will visit Semprini, warn him of this Red Death." “Or, hear me out, we don’t and hire a bard to follow him around and then show us what happened later in moving pictures.” "Come on, you know how well I can fit in with high society, Steve. I can speak Snob." "Steve... He really moved up in the world after he died. I'm proud for him." "Social gatherings...I can be nice and polite, but high society tends to leave me cold. It all seems so...fake." “Yeah. But I usually get to fork some ashholes [sic] trophy wife in the cloak room, and the food can be good.” "Look it's easy, you go to some parties and dinners at some places, see the sights, smile and laugh, and we're golden. "And if anyone gives us any shit, we just grin and take it, and then track them down after the party and light them on fire." "We've come on behalf of a young lady whose parents have been afflicted with a curse..." “We need that lifted before we have to adopt again.” "None of the rest of you better pull an Edmund on us." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal's not allowed to speak for the group without approval. Jonni was already not allowed to speak for the group. God... am I the diplomatic one here? How the hell am I the diplomatic one?" Jonni: “Hey, I can be diplomatic. In a skeevy way, sure, but diplomatic.” Jonni: “Back of the line, new Eddie. Gorb’s in charge unless I have a better idea.” "Some specters showed up while you were out, but Kyra and Simone drove them off....Where's Marshal?" Jonni: “Getting ready for me to kill him when he gets back.” Seoni sighs, "Of course he did." Gorbash: "Yeah, he's joining Jonni in the 'not allowed to make decisions without group permission club'." Jonni: “Wait… Marsh is gone! No one will stop me from killing Semprini!” Gorbash: "I am still here." Jonni: “I’ll bring you his mustache.” Gorbash: "You may continue." Gorbash: "...Gods, I'm the leader... How is the guy who spent a year in a fracking asylum the one people look to for leadership?" OOC: Gorbash is going to be referring to this kind of epic stupidity as Pulling an Edmund for at least as long as it takes us to save Edmund. OOC: I haven’t seen a robot do something that dumb since Optimus’ Primes comic death. And his brain fits on a 3x4 floppy. Gorbash: "I've been to Blutspar. I don't need eyes to see horrors everywhere. Give me the tour." Nyx: "I would like to go some place without horrors for once. I'm guessing that is too high an order around here." Gorebash:

Yeah she had a holy symbol of Asmodeus on her armor. “Oh, hey, we got that douche canoe back home” Jonni says, very loudly. “Demon Prince of tiny dicks.” Jonni: “I don’t go to plays with ‘king’ in the title after the incident. “Course, most of the plays I go to have titles that are parody’s of other plays. They usually involve some kind of food delivery that can’t be paid for.” Gorbash grabs Irost by the collar. "Entire city. Mass suicide. Rivers of blood centuries later. GIANT MAN MADE OF BUGS!" Irost: "....That could possibly be classified as urban improvement..." Irost: "But then we'd miss the ball, and the excitement, and the chance to make names for ourselves." Jonni: “New Eddie is dumber than old Eddie.” Gorbash: "My old crew and I once infiltrated a gods damned apocalypse cult-a-polusa! I damn well know my apocalypses." “We’ll get you a red snapper, it’s okay. The things beyond the veil aren’t going to tear your soul out and wipe their ass with it tonight.” The stall has three barrels around the stall, and a large crate with a sign that says "Stikk hand in fer big serprize." [sic] Gorbash: "This feels like a trap. Hey Jonni, come here!" Jonni: “Want me to light it up?” Upon you saying that the crate grows a mouth and begins inching away. The crate and the three barrels, as well as the sign, all get up and move towards an open manhole. The lead mimic turns and spits at you, "Damn adventurers, this used to be a nice neighborhood." Jonni: “Hey I know where you can find a really dumb guy. I’ll tell you if you bring us his mustache.” "How dare you, we are not vagrants nor tramps. We are guards for a traveling merchant caravan. And adventurers who solve problems and help others." "Right! They're Hobos!" Jonni: “Cool. Cool. So you’re a colossal asshat, your god sucks, and virtually no one I care about will mind if you die. In fact, the nicest member of my party thought about doing it herself.” Jonni: “Hey! One last thing? Go fuck yourself with a cactus you racist piece of devil-worshiping pig fart.” Linxia takes a deep breath. "We will settle this another time I think. But keep in mind;" she reaches out, grabs a caterpillar from a tree, and crushes it in hand. "Vermin always get crushed in the end." Gorbash: "B!+ch, we're Pest Control experts." He is wearing a "I survived the Organ grinder" TY shirt over his armor, and is also covered with popcorn, soda and other stickyness. In one hand he holds a handful of balloons, and in the other a large stuffed purple teddy bear. On his head is a hat with cat ears. Jonni: “We met new people to kill and you’re not allowed to tell me no anymore.” Gorbash returns the favor that Marshal did for him back in Hazlan and tightly hugs his metal friend. Irost would hug him from the other side as well, squeezing tightly. You are stuck fast to Marshal now, he is very sticky. "Uhm, do we need to get out the special scrubbing alcohol to clean you guys off now?" Marshal: "Fire." Jonni casts the “create campfire” cantrip. Irost: "WAIT! Wait we're still-AHHHHHH!" Marshal ties a blindfold around his helmet's eyeholes and sticks a cigarette in just in time. Jonni: “Sorry, reflex.” Marshal: "I've seen things you people wouldn't believe." Jonni: “I’ve fucked things you wouldn’t believe. Anyhow, walk it off. We got crime tonight.” “It’s that or wait for the play that pinged Gorb’s 'end of world' alarm to finish.” "What you did Marshall... Sainthood should be being considered." “If they gave out sainthood for being a moron Semprini would be a living god.” You guys become aware, that there things watching you. Or rather watching Marshal. You see countless tiny stuffed animals of varying types: bears, foxes, rabbits, but with horrific twisted features. Some have obviously human eyes or teeth, others are bulging with strange contents. Gorbash: "How is it, that Marshal is the one with the most Stalkers?" Marshal: "Co-workers on break." Jonni: “They forming a union?” According to Vesh, the boat will be arriving at Midnight with cargo, among which will be the box. It will unload the cargo in the shipping company's warehouse. where it will stay until it is shipped to the D'honaire estate on the night before the ball. The docks are silent. No one on them. The niight is clear, with stars in the sky and a huge moon. So what's your plan? OOC: Fireballs. You see the bizarre scene of a bunch of demonic beanie babies smoking. After about fifteen minutes, the bay is rocked by a massive explosion, as the galleon bursts into flames. "Jonni!" Jonni: “Gods I wish that was me.” OOC: Great things happen when Kreuz has a Paladin Moment. OOC1: This other crew is going to find we aren't harder to deal with than most adventurers, we fight smarter, not harder. OOC2: Also, we are more mentally unstable and prone to dickery. OOC: To be fair, the rules don’t say I have rocket feet. The power gamer in me says no, but the nerd in me says “ROCKET BOOTS!”

#dungeons and dragons #dnd 5e #quotes without context #ravenloft

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phoenixkadeu · 3 years

Text

Revenge and Retribution. Pt.1

When Asra first twisted the keys inside of the lock, he was expecting to find an empty house. His parents worked hard and often till late hours, granted he rarely came home, but Asra knew that their routines had not changed much over the years. His mother never really had a secure job, somehow managing to earn some coin from different people, there was always use for a water elementalist like herself, so she never really had any problems in that area of her life. His dad, a human, did not have many choices, he opened his tavern at a young age, somehow managing to earn some respect in spite of his low rank and species, both facts that no doubt limited him a lot. He had created a relaxed and fun space for most clubs to come to - especially after a difficult day at work - but it wasn’t always easy.

That was why Asra was surprised when he opened the door. His mother was sitting on the couch, long blonde hair in a messy updo, her face completely hidden behind the newspaper she was holding up between her fingers, her legs tucked in, a heavy blanket covered her lap. The air was warm, Asra was thankful for the small window that was opened since it balanced the heat coming from the fireplace. He closed the door, softly, not to disturb her, the duffle bag he had been carrying met the ground besides the door. Before he had the opportunity to straighten his back again, Asra felt his mother’s snake travel up his leg which made him chuckle, one hand reaching out for the pet to wrap around his arm instead, a silent invitation that was quickly accepted, as the snake made its way up to his shoulders before curling loosely around his neck. “Know you missed me” he mumbled softly to her, kicking his bag further down the floor before finally making his way to his mother. The woman barely acknowledged him, her blue eyes shooting upwards as he kissed the top of her head. “Reading the gossip column again?” Asra teased, but before he could take a look, The Deck had already been folded and hidden under the blanket. He frowned slightly at the action, but had no opportunity to speak against it as his mother cut him off. “You know I only read it of the many times they mention you, now go on, your dad is in the kitchen”

With that he was off, not thinking any further about his mother’s strange behavior, his smile spreading on his lips as he greeted his father warmly. “You stayin’ for dinner, buddy?” he asked, looking back at his son who was already setting the table. “Can’t, have some business on Umibe Beach, a ship is coming and I want to be the first one there, gonna be back tomorrow though” Asra was too distracted to notice the nervous expression that took over his father’s face, only making it worse by asking a question “why are you both home so soon? was the business slow today?” he looked at his father for a few seconds, the answer he received was quick and funny at least to Asra, but his father was trying his best not to let his real emotions show through “Me and your mother were hoping to spend some time with you that’s all” Asra chuckled, table ready and already making his way out of the kitchen “is it my birthday or something?”

However, his good mood quickly disappeared when his mother asked him to sit down once he emerged from the kitchen, his father following him back to the living room, Medusa wrapped herself a bit tightly around his neck, her face nudging the side of his cheek and Asra frowned. This was unsettling. “Is this about The Academy? I already told you that I had nothing to do with that bombing and besides everything is already back to normal I don’t understand why they would keep bugging you with that shit”

“Language, Asra!” his father spoke, approaching his wife’s side, sitting down beside her on the couch, Asra only smirked even though he still had a heavy feeling on his chest. “Listen to your mother, will you?” Asra gave him a small nod, sitting down on a large armchair, his legs spread in a comfortable manner, Medusa finally leaving him to curl herself around his mother’s now exposed ankles, probably sensing her nervousness. His fingers got lost in his blond hair, before coming down to scratch the back of his neck, his parents were looking at each other and Asra was beginning to grow restless, his foot tapping against the floor. He watched as his father gripped his mother’s hand softly and suddenly Asra’s eyes were wide, mouth open before he shouted. “Holy shit, you’re pregnant aren’t you?”

It should have been funny, the almost shout coming from Asra’s throat and the way his parents were looking at him, completely serious even after his stupid outburst, but there were no laughs filling the room. That’s when they decided to finally break the news to him, they couldn’t drag it much longer and it was best if they were the one’s to tell him, especially now that they knew that he was planning to visit Umibe Beach. “It’s about Allore, honey” his mother spoke and the tension had taken over Asra disappeared as he heard that name, he fidgeted on his seat, a small smile on his lips. He missed Allore, terribly so, he had tried his best to ignore it, because he knew that she would give him news whenever she could. “Was she here? Did she leave me a letter or something?” the excited tone on Asra’s voice only served to break his parent’s heart further. “No, she, she didn’t make it, son” his father decided to step in and deliver the news. They were both beyond nervous, afraid that this would make their son break for good, they had been through hell with him and they really didn’t want him to lose that energy and happiness that was so characteristic of him, again. However, as Asra’s smile faded, as his back straightened, the way his foot stopped tapping against the floor and how a stoic expression took over his face, they grew afraid. “Didn’t make it? Didn’t make it, how?” he was confused, jaw clenching, it was not until the newspaper his mother had been previously holding hostage was put on his lap that his eyes read the headline.

“Sculptor turned murderer. Kim Allore. Found dead in Umibe Nov.22″

His eyes skimmed through the words, as he bit his bottom lip. When he looked up, his parents almost flinched and that only worsened whatever Asra was feeling at the moment, so he stood up, thoughts swimming around in his head. “Alright, I need to get going” he adjusted his jacket and was heading towards the door when his mother’s voice stopped him from picking up his duffle bag. “You shouldn’t” he turned back, looking at her with an angry gaze. He always hated it, the way his mother could tell what was going on his mind without him even saying a word, how she could understand what was going on inside of him before he had the chance to discover it himself. “I have to, they have some important items coming and I don’t want it to sell out before I can get my hands on them” he explained, but he knew that was not what his mother was referring to, still he preferred to play dumb.

“You’re not fine, dear, stay the night, here” the usual softness Asra used to love was now irritating him quickly. He had no idea how to react now, he could only feel his body getting warmer, the flames on the fireplace flickering towards him as he picked his duffle bag throwing it over his shoulder. “I’m fine, I promise”

Then, say it. Say she’s dead. His mother wanted to tell him, because deep down she knew, her son was in denial, he wasn’t going to Umibe beach for some kind of shipment anymore, he was going so he could find Allore and she knew that he would only find a dead body in the place of the woman he still loved, the woman he still hoped was alive and waiting patiently for him. “Be safe” she choose to say instead, both her and her husband had long made peace with their son’s ways, they never fought against him. They could never stop Asra from breaking, they could only be there to help him get back together, hopefully there wouldn’t be too much damage to fix this time around.

The first thing the pirates had told him is that they had thought about leaving her body to rest at the sea, let the waves take care of her. Still, they had decided to hold on to her for a little bit longer. Asra knew that all of it had to do with money, even with a 1 marking her wrist, there was something about Allore’s appearance that always gave it away, anyone could see that she didn’t come from a poor family. They had been probably expecting some kind of sad, mopping parents to show up, pay them for their concerns and as a way to thank them for their kind gesture, before finally taking their dead daughter’s body so that they could have a proper goodbye.

But, instead, they got Asra. Inside of their ship, he stood there looking at her. One hand around her cold wrist, his other hand brushing back her bangs, the red “M” Asra had never seen sent a shiver down his spine. He regretted everything he had ever done. He desperately hid that mark behind her hair once again, he felt angry tears stinging his eyes.

He hated how they had treated her, not only now but how they had treated her for the majority of her short life. He hated himself for allowing this to happen. He should have been smarter, should have not helped her with poisoning her parents, or at least should have asked more questions - he knew that she must have felt guilty, how that mark was probably too much for her to handle, probably even why she had changed her hair, not to only hide it from others but to hide it from herself.

He shouldn’t have pushed her to run away, he shouldn’t have been so selfish with her. He should have just risen in the ranks enough for their parents to consider him a suitor, he should have been the one marrying her, even though it was wrong.

He should have done so many things that he know couldn’t. They had ran out of time and guilt was eating him alive.

This was all their fault, his mind found a way to calm him, projecting that guilt. It wasn’t fair for him to feel like this, he always had the purest intentions in mind, they were the ones who took her away from him. Her family, the diamond’s, they had all made this happen. They robbed him of their happiness.

“Ya sure she’s the one ya lookin’ for?” he heard one of the pirates speak, awakening him from his thoughts, he snapped his head back at the man, not even missing a beat as he asked. “How much do you want for her?” they probably thought he was some creepy guy, but the offer of money was enough to make them not care about any moral issues.

That’s how Asra found himself now, with a cold heart, pockets empty and with a dead body occupying the inside of his carriage, making his way back to Kadeu with only two concepts in mind. Revenge and Retribution.

#revenge and retribution #Allore's death #it's 1 am I need to sleep probably has a lot of mistakes so I'm gonna post this and run away #please excuse me #I will read this over tomorrow but have this now #part 2 is already in the making #my poor baby is going crazy

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nighttimepixels · 4 years

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So... I've been seeing wonderful people on here lately making versions of their own HorrorFell Sans and well I'm desperately bi and hooked and wanna know if. there's a HorrorFell Serif....?

You are all criminals I’m supposed to be doing things

I love you all holy shit big same so

below a cut because it got long! CW for bear-trap related injuries.

It’s time to meet Dusk.

=====

They weren’t supposed to turn on the machine again.

The guys weren’t exactly ones for promises, but after the incident, after the girls had managed to prove how unsafe it was, how unstable-

-they weren’t supposed to. They weren’t supposed to, to drag anyone else into this, to mess up even more timelines, it was a standoff, but it was stable in the meantime, or it should have been-

Someday, you’d meet this Sans, and you’d personally kick his coccyx into next Tuesday, you swore, for this and for everything else-

But right now, chances were looking pretty slim of seeing it to next Tuesday yourself.

“G-guys, it’s okay, really-”

“she’s got you by the fucking throat-!”

“If you fucking hurt her- te arrancó el brazo y lo tiro al mar-!”

You inhaled sharply, tears pricking at your eyes as the hand around your middle squeezed you tighter, your back pressed to a jagged, massive set of ribs, bare but for the massive coat shielding much of them, and draped around your form. The other hand at your throat held no weapon - but it was a weapon, even without the claws that threatened to prick your skin.

But the hand of the enormous skeleton woman holding you wasn’t squeezing your throat. It hadn’t once.

Blood, meanwhile, dripped slow and hot down your leg, staining the dead leaves of the forest floor below.

You wanted to curse your luck - curse the fact that you were on a walk in the woods with the dogs when Alpha’s monitoring programs picked up the subtle fluctuation in space-time that marked that machine being turned on for even an instant. You wanted to curse the fact that you’d tripped on a dumb root, cracking your phone and, apparently, breaking the ringer so you didn’t hear the many calls that came in. You wanted to curse the fact that you’re a magnet for skeletal trouble-

-or you would, if it hadn’t also brought you too much good this past year…But when you’d stumbled across the wounded, massive skeleton now clutching you, your feet dangling more than five feet off the ground, your first thought had been concern as you only saw her back turned to you, and a bear trap big enough to catch a rhinoceros nearly snapping her leg in half-

“Blade, holy shit- are you… are you okay-?”

The massive hole in her skull had been so familiar… but a moment later, you’d realized it was wrong. As was the way her head had snapped around… two massive gold fangs implanted in a mouth overrun with nigh-feral sharp teeth, a jagged red eyelight in the wrong socket, the hole on the wrong side of her head, the scars all wrong, so wrong-

The fear and fury in her face so unfamiliar and dangerous.

And yet… you… you didn’t leave.

You were nearly an hour’s walk away from the house. You shouldn’t have gone alone in the first place, but you had the dogs, far more intelligent than any normal animal, and you’d been cooped up for weeks because of bad weather and-

-and then, slowly, murmuring, crouching low with your hands out in a deference of power, soft nothings and reassurances spilling out of your mouth… you were approaching, circling in a wide berth to her front. Her snarls and growls were so loud you nearly lost your balance in the physicality, but…

… but slowly, while you were out of reach, she began to growl quieter, pain eking out over anything, though not once had she blinked…

A new arrival, you’d known. You’d found out about the machines a long while back now, and… there was no questioning it. But her tibia and fibula were cut almost clean through in a trap you couldn’t help but wonder if was from her world, brought with her - how long had she been out here? What was running through her head?

Why were you risking yourself-

The sound of fire, the feel of your own fear when your old place had crumbled around you… the soul-breaking relief when you’d been rescued, despite the danger…

You steeled yourself, and slowly came closer.

It took several tries - she nearly lunged at you once, when your hand slipped, digging the trap teeth in on her. You apologized, and kept talking- did she even… even speak English? Gods, you had no idea. But the sound of your voice seemed to help, so you kept at it- noticing more and more scars, noticing how terrifyingly dusty the wound was becoming- when you gestured for her to hold the one side to help undo the mechanism, trying to explain, ask for help as it was too strong for you alone-

-she’d done so, her hand larger than your head. Despite the pain, her grip didn’t shake, but you heard her teeth gritting, creaking as they ground down, erratic, unsteady magic charging the air around her-

And at last you’d freed her.

The trap to the side, you’d hurried to look at her removed leg, shedding your hoodie, forgetting to move slow. You missed the flicker in her gaze, pain undeniable in every shadow of her face, the moment of confusion, of hunger, of hesitance, of her reaching towards you-

But you’d looked up then, sweater in your hands, hovering over the horrifying break, an injury you were certain would have killed her otherwise- ready to bind her up.

Her hand had frozen at the level of your throat.

Like a rabbit in the gaze of a wolf, you’d frozen.

The wind rustled the leaves overhead, afternoon sun growing long, dimmer behind gathering clouds.

Her hand slowly came closer.

You didn’t move, a fine tremble in your spine, but- you didn’t look away.

She paused again. Watching. Waiting- your heart was racing, but- you didn’t run. For a thousand reasons, you didn’t run, despite some deeper instinct beyond logic begging at you to.

And then she’d brushed a lock of hair back from your throat, catching a bead of sweat with it, and lingering over your pulse.

Oh so slowly, her pinprick eyelight dilated.

“… y..ou…”

Without warning, a shout in the distance, cutting in as if through a phone line picked up startled you both. The dogs, waiting, tense, worried just a few feet behind you, barked- and all hell had broken loose.

Serif had shortcut into the clearing, her eyelights no sooner landing on you than taking in the massive, dangerous looking skeleton with her hand at your throat. She’d sworn, magic suddenly flaring at her fingertips before, as if desperately wrenching her senses back, it vanished, and she lifted her hands, furious and hiding too much emotion but clearly attempting to look reasonable, to calm down the newcomer.

It was too late.

The sudden appearance, the split second of aggressive magic was enough. The injured skeleton woman was surging forward, enveloping you- before, as if forgotten, her leg gave out with a sickening crunch.

You both fell, and your leg slammed into the hellish, too-jagged bear trap you’d just removed from her leg. The jagged metal and sharpened bone teeth of the closed trap protruding from it cut into your leg and dragged viciously as intertia and gravity took over before she could catch herself, taking the brunt of the fall-

The smell of blood had a visceral effect on the woman holding you, even as your vision was cut off by the ground and her arms and jacket- your scream mingled with a guttural sound, a language glitching and feral- clashing with the sounds of more people arriving, hitting the ground running, swearing, your vision blurring and whiting with pain lancing from your leg straight through you and whiting out your conscious mind for a moment- vertigo as you were suddenly upright-

Now you stared at your friends, leg throbbing, hot blood staining your jeans and shoe, struggling to keep your vision clear and not panic. She was cornered - you were too, you supposed, in her arms. Her leg was… it wasn’t right. You couldn’t quite see it when you glanced down, and that was… a problem. She seemed to be propped against a tree, against a steep hill that was nearly cliff- staring down, chest heaving at Serif, Scarlet, Crimson, Sapphire, and Cinnamon. You had no idea where the others were. There was no time to spare to think about it - or how they’d found you at all-

“P-please, I think she’s just scared, I think she’s feeling my pulse, s-since- I’m hurt-”

“doesn’t mean she gets t'hold you hostage,” Cinnamon’s low voice was a drawl, but her stance was one you’d only seen once or twice. Ready, ready in a way that would set your internal alarms off if they weren’t already pealing.

“Come now, let’s… let’s just take it easy,” Sapphire’s voice was measured, even almost warm - her eyelights were steady, and she was the only one who didn’t visibly appear to be a moment’s away from a fighting stance. Still, her voice was almost too measured. You knew her too well to miss it. Nonetheless, she met your gaze, and her chest took a steady inhale, then slow exhale, ever so minutely.

You blinked, tears threatening to spill at the silent message to breathe, that she’d stay calm too, she’d try and de-escalate-

The rough, static-like inflection of the woman’s speech behind you twisted and rumbled, short, dark, aggressive-

A huff of air tickled your hair, and you felt her… her head, dip down to the back of yours. It cut through the pain, almost tingling with a wild sort of magic, but… not in a bad way.

The others looked confused in varying degrees, and Crimson’s arm out only barely kept Scarlet from acting- but there was a flicker of deeper confusion yet on Serif’s face… one of almost-recognition and angrier confusion on Cinnamon’s-

But Crimson’s sockets widened.

“ay, ni de coña-”

Several eyelights snapped to her as she swore, shaking her head as if to clear it of cobwebs-

And then… slowly, she stumbled through a handful of similar sounds.

Words.

Glitching, uneven, but also rich like radio static - if a little clumsier in her mouth-

You felt as much as heard the surprised intake of breath behind you.

And slowly, came a response.

Crimson frowned, scowled outright, sockets squinting and head cocking a bit. A few more words- a grunt, then a continuation that sounded corrected-

An angrier response from the woman holding you-

“could you please let us in on the conversation, thanks,” hissed Serif sharply at Crimson, but she was promptly waved off as Crimson haltingly tried a few more words-

And slowly, the hand at your throat drifted just a little further down.

“… n..o.”

“pendejo-” Crimson swore, making a sharp rude gesture - but not at your captor, at the sky.

“¿Qué le hizo?” Scarlet was sharp, too quick, her Spanish rough and thick with anger-

“that bastard must’ve turned it on alright- she’s…. joder, she’s like Blade but- us too, hermana. our estrelita here apparently helped her outta a trap she was dyin’ in, and when we showed up-”

“shit,” Serif swore softly, her hands lowering again, anger and stress and understanding flickering over her face.

“she’s still holdin’ her,” Cinnamon pointed out, words tight - but her posture had relaxed… slightly. “we gotta get her some first aid-”

She paused, then, quieter.

“both of ‘em…. fuck, her leg’s completely…”

“Please, let us help you- both of you-” Sapphire’s voice was earnest, firm but gentle- but you couldn’t quite focus on her. On any of them, now, not with your vision threatening to tunnel.

You were starting to shiver a little, following along but only just. The wound in your leg must be… pretty bad. You were feeling faint. Your body shifted in time with the growing shallower breaths of the woman holding you…

Crimson was swearing, attempting a word again, and again, but clearly not knowing how or what to say in that strange language-

“what even is it you’re speakin’-” Cinnamon pressed.

“shh, it’s just- it’s– old, old monster shit, most forgot except uh- certain scientist, and a few others, it’s been ages but-”

Suddenly, you were higher off the ground, your mind slipping for a moment in vertigo. The next, you realized… both her arms were supporting you, cradling you close, a modified bridal carry to accommodate the size difference and your wounded leg that-

“Oh god-”

You dry heaved, forcing yourself to look away from the open gash in your leg. You’d never been good with great quantities of blood, but - but you’d seen white in the deep, long wound, and your head was spinning, fuck-

“…n.ow. b… oth.”

The two halting words were punctuated by a longer phrase in that radio-static language you couldn’t understand. Your eyes were closing, unable to focus any longer. Whatever was going to happen, you couldn’t fight it… at least… at least they didn’t seem like the others were going to fight, either…

“you gotta give her to us- you can’t pass through a shortcut with that-”

Your mind was fading, and you barely registered the harsher, almost booming radio-static words falling from the woman holding you possessively, protectively. The following swears tumbling from Crimson might as well have been white noise...

“Take… take care of her, first,” you mumbled, not seeing the other girl’s attention snap to you, nor the wide stare of the woman holding you. “She was… d-dust, at… at her wound… please don’t let- let her… fall…….”

And with that, your mind slipped away in pain and anemic exhaustion.

—

It wouldn’t be till much later that you found out that the girls had apparently surged into action that, and somehow, together, managed to shortcut you and your new friend back to Blade and Twist’s place.

Both of you were patched up…

But the cost of teleporting while so grievously injured cost this new arrival her lower leg. A cost she apparently knew she might pay.

You cried when you found out.

But you’d also awoken in her arms, a place she’d apparently refused to let you free of, even at Blade’s anger and Twist’s worry. Her leg was gone, yours was patched and stitched by Twist’s patent, phenomenal care. And still, you were there... warm, bundled in new blankets, with the woman’s eyelight rarely leaving you, even as Crimson and Serif explained what happened, Blade looming nearby.

She couldn’t speak English well, you found out then, too. She’d… forgotten it. What monsters were left in her world forgot it - forgot a lot, apparently, forced into a feral survival, hunted by… something.

But in the end, to start… you were able to help her choose a new nickname, at least. A beginning. A start, because… Despite their concern, well, none of the girls were going to kick this new arrival out on her own. Crimson in particular had been there too, the whole time, helping translate broken sentences and try to parse together what she knew…

Dusk, she chose as her name, after a long game of suggestions and narrowing in on sounds and concepts she seemed less opposed to. She seemed pleased… if you were reading her right.

And… she didn’t have a sister that came with her.

186 notes · View notes

lokidiabolus · 4 years

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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