#angels are real and they're the people who go out of their way to say nice things to others | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sethcertified · 1 year

Note

Poly Billy & Stu x Male Reader

Where reader has been canceling plans and spending time with Randy when the three promised to hang out or just generally ditching them for him and they’re hella jealous? Like wanting to keep reader on a leash so he can’t run away anymore jealous.

「 JEALOUSY KILLS ! 」 . . . 📁

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

w.c: 3.2k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . Billy and Stu confront you, raging in jealousy, after seeing you with Randy at Stu’s party; the man you had been ditching Billy and Stu for

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

Macher parties were your least favorite. They always consisted of the people you hated the most: snobbish highschoolers that didn't give anyone below their social standards the time of day unless it benefited them somehow. You were bare witness to this in real time as a highschooler yourself.

You could usually count on the company of Billy or Stu to keep you occupied. For a while, at least. Yet they developed the habit of seemingly forgetting your presence as the party raged on. They would hang out with you for the first couple minutes of the party, but leave you alone at one point or another. Usually to hang out with Sidney or Tatum. It had happened again and again, and by now, you were sick of it. Standing alone in the corner as people you hate surrounded you was not fun in the slightest.

So you invited Randy.

✁.

Billy sat on the living floor, beer in hand, as Stu sat beside him. Billy was used to having Stu as company, and don't get him wrong, Stu is his best-friend, but there's a limit as to how much Billy can listen to the other man ramble. "Can't believe Will was able to do that! A keg-stand with one hand? I wish I could do that. Whadda ya think, Bill?" Billy's name escaping Stu's mouth caused Billy to look to the blonde boy who had been talking to him for... awhile.

Billy felt himself down the last few drops of beer as he cleared his head. It wasn't common for him to zone out. In fact, he would consider himself to be a great listener. Although, you kinda have to be when being not only best friends but also boyfriends with Stu Macher. But today, something else had caught his attention completely.

Stu flops against the wall as he realizes just how much Billy had been listening for. His gaze flickers to Billy, catching a glimpse of what had ruptured Billy's attention for the past half hour.

You, in all your glory, sipping on your drink in the most angelic way possible. A dark blue sweater draped over your body in a simple but beautiful way. Blue is your color, Stu thinks. No wonder Billy was staring at you. He looks back over to said man, watching as his eyes darken and his jaw tense. Confused, Stu looks back to where you stood, noticing the thing that was bugging Billy. "Is that?"

"Randy," says Billy, in a way that makes it seem like what he's looking at is the most absurd and repulsive thing he's ever seen. Stu mouth falls agape as his eyes catch sight of you, laughing as you touch Randy's forearm. "What is he doing with [Name]?"

Billy lets out a sarcastic chuckle. "What do you think?" Stu's eyes narrow as you laugh at some joke Randy made. He had noticed you two getting closer recently. Hell, you even ditched Billy and Stu to hang out with him more than once! But there was no way you two were-

Maybe you were. "They're not- right, Billy? [Name] wouldn't date Randy." Stu asked, panic and jealousy apparent in his tone. Billy sighs as he lips press into a stern line. "I don't know."

"What if they are?" Stu asks.

"We kill Randy," Billy says nonchalantly but there's something dark underlying his words. "Give [Name] a shoulder to cry on, make him ours. Simple." Stu nods along to Billy's words, but doubt still clouds his mind. "What if that doesn't work."

"It will. And if it doesn’t… I’ll put him on a leash if I have to," is all Billy says before going silent once more. His gaze is glued to you and Randy. You are still smiling at him and talking. But that's okay, Billy reasons. When you're comfortable with someone, you love to talk. You could spend hours rambling about the latest movie you saw or the newest episode of your favorite tv show. That doesn't mean you're dating him. Right?

And smiling? That was nothing. You smile at everything. Something both you and Stu had in common. Hell, you even smile at strays. And, to Billy, Randy was extremely familiar to a stray, wild, animal.

Can't be wilder than you and Stu though. Or did you forget who you are, ghostface?

Billy frowns at the thought. You didn't know. Both Billy and Stu had guaranteed that. But what if you did? What if that was the reason you had started to ditch them for the likes of Randy? Everything you had done with them was stuff you were know doing with Randy, after all.

The first time you had ditched them for Randy was on your weekly movie night. After you had yet to show up after an hour, they had gone out looking for you. They eventually found you sneaking him into a movie theater to see the new Hellraiser movie. Something you had promised to watch with Billy and Stu.

As you began to ditch them more and more, they continued to see what you were doing instead of hanging out with them, and every-time you were with him. Doing stuff you always did and/or promised to do with Billy and Stu. Watching stupid movies to make fun of their absurdity, sneak onto the roof to just talk until the sun crept over the horizon, etc.

It drove them insane. Sure, you didn't owe the two anything. You didn't sign a contract saying you had to spend every waking moment with them. But that didn't make the two any less jealous. Especially when Randy wouldn't leave your side.

"Bill, I can't do this anymore, watching them is driving me nuts, man!" Stu whined as he chugged down some of his beer. For a second, Billy was taken aback. He had completely forgotten Stu's presence (again) while glaring holes into Randy's back. "Maybe we should go up to him?" Stu asks.

Billy clears his throat at the suggestion but glares at Stu. "Does it look like we could with Randy clinging to him? Don't be stupid." Stu pouts as he glances back at you and Randy once more. You're laughing at something he said, again. Stu's pout quickly turned into a frown. He was the only one to ever make you laugh that much.

Was he being replaced by Randy? Could Randy do everything he could? Better, even? The paranoia racking Stu's brain makes him sure he's going crazy. Surely, you wouldn't replace him. Right?

"I'm going up to him," says Stu. Billy gives him a pointed look. "Tell me how that goes."

"You should come with me," Stu replies. Billy feigns ignorance to Stu's words as he lifts the empty bottle of beer to his lips. "C'mon man, before it's too late."

Before it's too late.

The sentence echoes in Billy's ears. He didn't want to lose you. He couldn't lose you. Not to the annoying guys at school, not to the girl who always insists on being your partner whenever she gets the chance in English, and especially not to Randy. Billy wouldn't let that happen. Never. Not to anyone.

You were his and Stu's. No one else's.

Before he even can process what he's doing, Billy's standing up off the floor and walking to the kitchen. Stu right beside him with a satisfactory smile across his face.

You chuckle at something Randy says before you notice Billy and Stu walking towards the both of you. Your smile quickly drops. Now they chose to come say hi?

Stu swings his arm around your shoulder, "Hi, [Name]." His tone was flirty in the charismatic Stu way that would usually make your knees weak. Billy creeps up besides Stu. He gives Randy a quick glance before saying, "Hey" to you.

It was impossible not to notice your sour mood. Even Stu felt his confidence falter. You were pissed. Randy clears his throat, causing all three of you to turn your attention to him. "Sorry, Randy. Anyways, what were you saying?" You completely disregard Billy and Stu, focusing all of your attention on the brunette man in front of you.

Randy's gaze flickers to Billy and Stu before sending you a confused look. The two of you do a bit of eye communication as the tension between all four of you gradually increases. "So," Randy finally clears the air, "Have you guys seen the new Hellraiser movie? Me and [Name] saw it the other day."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, both Billy and Stu look like they want to rip his face off. They already knew of you ditching them for Randy, but to hear it out of his mouth made both men want to take you far, far away from the world. Make you theirs and only theirs.

"Not yet." Says Billy as his brown eyes lock onto you. The feeling of his stern gaze makes you swallow awkwardly. Randy didn't know you were going to see it with Billy and Stu. He also didn't know about your repeated ditching to hang out with him. Every word that could and had come out of his mouth was putting you one foot in the grave.

Randy laughs awkwardly, "It sucked. Didn't miss out on much." Billy just nods his head, not interested in what Randy had to say. "But [Name] can make any movie good. I never laughed so hard in a movie theater before."

"We get it." Billy says, annoyance clear in his words. Your eyes widen at Billy. You knew he never liked Randy that much, but he seemed to always tolerate him when you all hung out together. It made sense, so you never bugged Billy about it since Randy made his crush on Sidney very obvious.

Your gaze lingers on Billy, trying to decipher his abrupt aggressiveness. His face is contorted angrily. If looks could kill, Randy would be six feet under.

"So, Randy, you still got the hots for Sid?" Stu suddenly asks. It doesn't sound genuine at all. What were they up to? "Stu!" You whisper-yell at him. His blue eyes meet with yours. "Why would you ask that when Billy's right there?" It seems odd to you the fact you have to remind Stu that mentioning Randy's crush on Sid is a bad idea when Billy's right there. Unless he had something up his sleeve?

"Uh," Randy stutters, now slightly scared of what Billy will do if he answers truthfully. It doesn't help that Stu was staring down at him like a vulture. "A little, I guess." Your lips pull awkwardly back as Randy avoids eye contact with Billy and Stu. Why were the treating Randy like this?

Stu laughs at Randy, "I can't believe you would actually admit that when her boyfriend is right there!" His laughter quiets down but chuckles still escape his mouth. "Are you that stupid?"

"Dude! Stop being a dick," you whisper to him. Stu squints his eyes at you as if he's trying to figure out why you're defending Randy so hard. Stu frowns but continues on his taunts. "Is that why you came? To sneak a peek of her?"

"What? No!" Randy responds. "I came to hang out with [Name], so he isn't alone. He invited me in the first place."

You smile at his words. It didn't take much to notice; however, how Billy's jaw tensed and Stu's hand against your shoulder clenched. If the only people in the room were you four, you wouldn't doubt either of the boys breaking a beer bottle on Randy's head.

"Well, he isn't alone anymore, so you can leave." Billy says. Randy nervously chuckles, "I mean, I could. But I'm already here with [Name], and I like hanging out with him."

"I like hanging out with you too." You tell him, desperate to make him feel less uncomfortable when there's two men right in-front of him who look like they could slit his throat if given the chance.

"You know what's more fun to hang out with? The door. You should go check it out and while you are at it, get your ass out of here." Billy says without any hesitation in his voice.

"Billy!" You gasp. This wasn't cool anymore. "Can I talk to you?" Your gaze flickers to Stu. "Both of you. In private?" You send Randy an apologetic smile before grabbing both Billy's and Stu's hands and dragging them the hell out of here, without waiting for a response from the two.

Billy stops for a moment to speak to Randy once more, "The door is right there. Feel free to use it while we're gone." You curse under your breath as you pull him with you and take him up the stairs, eventually pulling the two into Stu's bedroom. Your hand doesn't leave theirs 'til you shut the door and can only hear the faint noise of the party raging on downstairs.

You let go of them to cross your arms over your chest, "What the hell are you two doing?"

Billy's the first to respond. "Showing Randy his place," he says, without an ounce of guilt for what he had done.

Stu nods and you glare at him. "C'mon, you guys. He's my friend. What's the problem with him hanging out with me? It's better than me being alone in the corner as I watch everyone around me make out and drink booze." It's your turn to be upset, and you hope your feelings get through their thick skulls.

"I don't care if he's your friend," Billy says, putting a strange emphasis on the word friend. Your brows contort in confusion and anger at his words. "What the hell is wrong with you? There was no reason for you to be that rude to him!" You snap. "I really like him, okay? And I don't want to lose him to you two being major assholes."

"Oh, so now you like him, huh?" Stu says and you sigh. Both of them were being so stubborn about this. "He's my friend, Stu. Of course, I like him."

"What about us? Do you like us?" Stu asks and your mouth falls open in shock.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I like you? You guys are quite literally my best friends."

"Then you shouldn't have an issue hanging out with us instead of Randy," Billy says. You close your eyes in frustration. The three of you were just going in circles at this point.

"Is it 'cause he likes your girlfriend? If so, that has nothing to do with our relationship." You ask and the expression on both of their faces makes you immediately regret your words.

"No. I don't care about Sid, okay? And it has everything to do with your... relationship." Billy pauses before saying the word like it's the most disgusting thing he's ever said.

"Yeah, man!" Stu chimes in. "He's weird. His hair is weird. And his clothes. And... and the way he looks at you! You shouldn't be around him."

"What? You two are behaving like children, right now! What is up with you two?" Your eyes widen as you suddenly put the pieces together. "You're jealous!" You place your palm over you mouth as your gaze flickers between the two. "You're jealous of Randy!"

"So what?" Billy says.

You inch closer to them, "You two are jealous because I've been hanging out with him so much. Oh my god. This whole time, I thought-"

"You thought what?" Stu asks.

"I thought you guys just didn't like him because he likes Sidney. But... why do you guys care that much if I hang out with him so much?" You ponder as you sit on the edge of the bed, no longer standing in front of them.

"Because you're ours, okay?" Stu says as he looms over you. Your eyes widen but he goes on. "We know you've been ditching him for us, [Name]. What did we do wrong?" He wraps his long arms around you as he moves to sit besides you on the bed. His hold is tight, possessive, but strangely enough, oddly comforting.

The room is silent for a moment before you speak. "You guys have been ditching me too, you know? At these parties, you'll talk and hang out with me for a little bit, but sooner or later, you leave me alone in some random room surrounded by people I don't know or don't like. Even at school! I didn't want to be clingy, so I made a new friend. I just didn't want to cling to you guys like some dog."

Your eyes show your hurt and Billy and Stu share a look. That was the reason? It never had even processed to them that that could've been the reason. But the same hint of relief in their eyes shone brightly. You didn't know.

"[Name]," Billy says as he walks to you. You gaze up at him as Stu rests his chin on your shoulder. He stands in-front of you before grasping your chin between his thumb and pointing finger. Flushed at the feeling of his intimacy, you avert your eyes. Before any of you know what's happening, Billy closes the distance between you. As your lips met his, everything else went into a standstill.

Too shocked by the action, you fail to respond to the kiss. This wasn't happening. There was no way Billy Loomis was kissing you. Did he-

Suddenly, all your worries turn into mush until the only thing you can think about is his lips on yours. And you finally realize this is what you had wanted for the longest time. To be with him. No- to be with them. They were the only ones in your heart. Stu's body warmth spreads through your body and captures your soul, making you part away from Billy.

Turning to Stu, your eyes bore into his, asking the question that wouldn't dare leave your mouth. Are we about to kiss? Stu answers the question immediately, pressing his lips against yours. The feeling that rushes through you is almost identical to the one you felt while kissing Billy. Your brain fogs, only focusing on him until the necessity to breathe arose, causing you to pull away.

"That was," you pause as your mind tries to find the words. "Unreal." You stare up at Billy dizzily. He takes the eye contact as a positive, sending you a rare but genuine smile. Stu practically jumps on to Billy as he springs up from the bed, wrapping his long arm around Billy’s neck, putting him into a headlock. “Sorry, Bill, but he was talking about our kiss. Not yours.”

Billy pushes him off and you can’t help but chuckle at the two. Billy punched Stu shoulder playfully but still with impact. “I can make them say that about more than kissing. Too bad, you can’t do the same.”

“And how would you know, smart guy?” Stu asks but you can feel the sexual tension start to build up between them. Billy suddenly pulls Stu’s head back by his hair, “Cause you can only take dick.” Stu bites his lip in arousal and you can tell that this was by no means something that they hadn’t done before.

Billy turns to you, Stu still in his grasp. “Do you want this?”

Your mouth opens in response, “I-”

✎ notes . . . to be continued… my favorite type of endings!! if this does well, I will write a part two that is SMUT AHHH

©️ sethcertified 2023

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zephyrchama · 4 months

Note

I was reading your period one. The funny thing is, I am pretty sure human guys might smell periods too? I'm not really sure...call me crazy but like, my boyfriend can smell my period room it's probably from him being around me 24/7 so it's why he can smell it a small bit i think, so I get more chocolate. Weird thing, huh.

(In reference to this post)

Some people absolutely can! I have a friend who describes it as a faint rotten metallic smell, he's always spot-on at telling when someone is on their period. He has to be within a couple feet of them, but he can tell even if he hardly knows the person. I think my friend is a super rare case though, and like with your boyfriend some people might be able to tell if they're really close? In a vast majority of cases people can't tell, or they don't care enough to think about it.

Solomon being able to smell it right off the bat seems too powerful. MC going to him for assistance is already awkward, it doesn't exactly feel normal to talk to acquaintances about personal menstrual cycles. But if he can't smell it, he'll need someone who can to help with their experiments. Otherwise, how can he tell if the spell is a success?

"You can't bring in Luke or Simeon, absolutely not. Never." MC is adamant about not involving anyone else. They hadn't noticed the angels reacting in any way to their period, but if it turns out they could also smell it all along? That's just too embarrassing. Let MC keep their perfect image of the angels intact. "You can't tell them about this, either."

"One of the brothers, then?" Solomon asks.

MC hmms and haws. They know for sure the brothers can smell it, but... That's not ideal, either.

"How about I summon Asmodeus or Barbatos? I can make sure they keep their lips sealed."

Barbatos is sure to keep quiet even without being asked, but MC doesn't want to involve anyone else. Especially not...

"Lord Diavolo? We can ask him? It has to do with his exchange program, after all," Solomon teased.

"We are absolutely not asking the crown prince of the Devildom to sniff my period blood." MC pressed their hands against their eyes. "I'd honestly rather perish on the spot. Can't you do anything? Invent some kind of sensor or a magic litmus test? Or... something. Make your nose better? I don't know." They didn't even know magic was real a few months ago.

"You know, you're right." If Solomon can't naturally smell it, a simple sense enhancing spell would do the trick. "You'd be okay with that?"

A few seconds of thought go by. "If it's you, yeah. I've already troubled you this much. Thanks for letting me rely on you."

Solomon says a few things faster than MC can catch and taps his nose. Suddenly, he's sniffing the air in an embarrassingly familiar way and MC's face turns red.

"I see." Solomon grabs a pen and starts jotting something down on a random page of an empty book.

MC curiously tries to look over his shoulder. Though, they're careful not to get too close. They still have dignity and want to mitigate their smell as much as possible. "What's that? You've already thought of a spell that can cover it up? You're a genius!"

"Hm? Oh, no. I thought of that ages ago. I'm taking notes on what you smell like. It's pretty unique now that I can sense it." All in the name of science.

Fighting cramps and lethargy, MC dives for the notebook and snatches it out of Solomon's hands. No way they're letting a record of this exist.

#ask #period mention #menstruation #obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me mc

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happy74827 · 5 months

Text

The Demon With A Heart

[Crowley x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When Crowley saves your life, you can't help but think it was a little more than self-interest.

WC: 1858

Category: 99.9% Sexual Tension (lmfao), 0.01% Fluff + Angst? {TW: Mentions of Demons (obvi), Murder}

Crowley is too iconic not to have fics. I said what I said.

『••✎••』

You didn’t know how to react. It was as if your tongue was taken away, and you couldn’t talk, no matter how much you wanted to thank the man.

No, the demon.

You stood there with wide eyes, staring at the King of Hell, Crowley. He looked the same as before: a clean suit, a snarky comment, and a look of disgust on his face. But, instead of being on the opposite side, he was wiping the blood off of the angel blade he used to kill the angel that jumped you.

He just saved you—The King of Hell.

The very man who told Sam and Dean countless times that he doesn't do anything for free and doesn’t help people without getting something out of it. Yet, here he was, standing in front of you, not asking for a single thing.

The thought was a bit unsettling.

"Purely out of self-interest, darling," He says, breaking the silence and putting the stolen blade into his jacket. "Call it a favor that I plan to collect in the future."

He was about to leave, but you couldn’t let him go. Not without a thank you, at least. You didn't want him to think you didn’t appreciate what he did.

"Crowley."

The man turns back around, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.

"Thank you."

The corner of his mouth turned upward, forming a small smirk. He didn’t say anything but rather kept his eyes on you for a second longer. He then disappeared, leaving you in the dark.

And it did leave you in the dark. For days, weeks, months. He never came for that favor, and he never brought up what happened. In fact, he barely talked to you at all. It was always towards the Winchesters.

You began to believe it was nothing but a dream. That Crowley somehow didn't save you. The angel was a fake, and this was all some sick joke. It felt like gaslighting.

But you knew what happened was real. You remembered the blood splatter and the dead corpse. The way his face contorted when he pierced the angel's heart.

It was all too real.

So, why was he ignoring you? Why did he pretend that it never happened? Was he going to hold it over your head? Or was it just the fact that the King of Hell did something nice for a human?

Was it because he… cared?

One night, you got your answer. It was a quiet night filled with books, tea, and soft music. At least, it was before those idiotic brothers decided to tear down the bunker in search of some book.

You couldn’t remember the exact reason they needed it, but you were too tired to argue. So, you stayed in your room and tried to fall asleep.

That is until the lights went out and the emergency lights kicked on. Okay, now you were annoyed. You got up, slipped on your shoes and a coat, and walked out of your room.

"Alright, what did you two-"

You paused mid-sentence, eyes falling onto the figure in the library. The man was facing the opposite way, but you knew exactly who it was. The familiar black suit and hair gave it away.

"Crowley…"

"Hello, Darling,” he replied, turning around and smiling at you. It was almost unnerving. He didn’t have a malicious aura or even an evil one. Just... a smile.

You looked behind him and noticed… well, nothing. You were expecting the Winchesters to be with him, and yet, it was just him.

"Where are the boys?"

"Moose and Squirrel? Ah, they're off somewhere, doing... well, you know. Something heroic, I suppose. Figured I’d stick around… enjoy the scenery."

That’s when you looked up and understood what he meant. He was stuck, quite literally. Those devil traps they put everywhere finally did something good.

You half-expected him to bring up that 'favor' he was talking about or maybe even just demand to get out of there, but he did neither. Instead, he looked at the ground and sighed.

At the moment, the King of Hell looked just like a caged puppy, sad and alone. If he wasn’t such a… demon, you might have even felt bad for him.

But, you left him in there, strolling along to the kitchen to find some kind of light. You were not giving up your two hours of reading due to power loss.

As you shuffled through the cabinets, looking for any form of match or lighter, the lights flickered back on.

So that’s where the Winchesters were.

You shrugged and turned back to your room but stopped at the entrance to the library. Crowley was still there, but this time, his face was twisted. He was clearly pissed.

"Why did you do it?" The burning question you wanted answered for months finally came out. Crowley stopped his little fit and turned towards you, a confused expression on his face.

He looked like he had no idea what you were talking about.

"I do a lot of things, Chipmunk. You'll have to be more specific."

You walked towards him, resting down the candles and book on a nearby table. You didn’t know why, but the need to confront him was growing.

"Save me all those months ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You were getting closer, now only a few feet from him. Crowley, however, didn’t back away. Instead, he watched as you moved, his expression unchanging.

"That angel could’ve killed me, yet you came out of nowhere and stabbed him. I know you don't do anything out of kindness, so why did you do it? What do I offer that no one else does?"

Crowley stayed silent for a while, not giving any indication of answering your questions.

You thought it was just a lost cause until his expression changed. It was subtle, but you caught it. The corner of his mouth turned down, and his eyes widened, then narrowed.

He almost looked ashamed.

"It's just like I said. Self-interest." He spat out, his voice sounding like venom. You almost took a step back. It still sounded like the same old Crowley, but his tone was different.

You decided to call his bluff.

"I don't believe you."

Crowley raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming across his face. He was amused by the sudden attitude, but it didn’t last long.

"And what makes you say that?"

"I saw the way you looked at me after you saved me. Hesitancy, almost. Like you were unsure. As if..."

The King of Hell stared at you, waiting for the last part of your statement. He was eager but not for the answer. No, he knew what you were going to say.

He was just waiting to hear it come out of your mouth.

"You care."

Those words hung in the air, both of you processing it. Crowley continued to stare at you, the smirk disappearing, leaving his face neutral. He had a blank expression.

A silence grew, the atmosphere turning awkward. It wasn't until the demon let out a loud sigh and looked to the side that it was broken.

"You’re really pulling on the heartstrings, Chipmunk,” he muttered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "If I had one, I'd say it was aching."

"Do you?"

You knew what you were implying. Crowley was the King of Hell, the ruler of the damned. He was the furthest thing from human, yet he could walk among them and, sometimes, be mistaken for one.

Was it possible for him to be human or even have emotions?

Crowley looked at you and frowned, clearly not liking the topic. But he didn't deny it. It was a strange sight—the King of Hell, frowning and silent.

It was almost adorable.

"I'm not asking for anything. I just… want an honest answer."

"Well, I am a demon, love,” He stated, his tone changing to a more playful one. “Honesty isn’t quite in the job description."

"Crowley."

You were starting to get impatient, and it showed. Your voice was firm, and your posture was tense. You wanted an answer, and you were determined to get it.

The demon in question let out another sigh and looked at the ceiling as if praying for a quick escape.

"You're a pain, you know that? It's exhausting." He grumbled, rolling his eyes. "But, I suppose, since you asked nicely..."

The man looked at you, his lips pursed. He was still hesitating, which only made you more curious.

"Yes, I care. About you. Happy?"

You blinked a few times, processing the information. Did the King of Hell, the person known for not giving a shit, just admit he cares?

"I-" You started, not knowing what to say. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. Crowley wasn't exactly a bad guy, well, a demon.

"Do you actually mean that?"

"Now that…" Crowley started, his voice low and deep. He leaned towards you, making you back up, but the wall soon prevented you from going any further.

He was inches away, his breath hitting your face. You could see his eyes staring into yours—a pretty brown, like a mocha latte.

"…Is the kind of question that will get you in trouble, love."

You weren’t sure what he was planning, but you didn't care. The way his eyes were looking at you, the smirk on his face, the closeness...

He was probably expecting you to back away, but he was wrong. You were an avid reader, obsessive even. This scene wasn't new, nor was it shocking.

The only shocking part was the fact that you were the one in it. And, well, the fact that you didn’t mind it.

"Unlike you,” you whispered, a small smirk on your face. "I don’t care."

Your response made him pause for a moment, squinting his eyes and giving you a confused look. It only lasted a few seconds, though. Soon, he understood, and a chuckle escaped his lips.

"Touché"

You truly believed you were about to lose your chance with the man upstairs, but loud footsteps interrupted you.

"Crowley, you slimy son of a bitch! If you’re not here, we are going to-"

Dean stopped talking as he rounded the corner, seeing you and Crowley close. His expression was shocked, almost comical.

"The hell is going on here?"

You and Crowley both turned to look at Dean, a look of annoyance on the King of Hell's face. Sam came around the corner as well, sharing the same look of confusion.

Crowley gave you one last glance, a bit of disappointment in his eyes, before taking a step back. His attention moved on to the two hunters, his usual smile returning.

And despite the annoyance in the air and the confusion, the only thing that came across your mind was another question that you were sure would take control of your sleep schedule once again.

"Hello, boys," He purred, his arms moving to his side. He was back to his old self, not showing a single sign of what happened moments ago.

Had the beauty thawed the beast?

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starryeyeddreamer21 · 2 months

Text

I need Vaggie and Husk to be friends SO badly. I just think they have potential like they could possibly be one of the best duos if given a chance. I actually have so many thoughts on this so hear me out:

There's so much potential JUST because of their relationships with Charlie and Angel (Charlie and Angel are siblings but we don't need to get into that right now)

But seriously short grumpy characters with wings and their extroverted beanpole partner is killing me

So basically I can see them both ranting about what their partners are doing on a daily basis but it always ends with "I love them SO much" "Cheers I'll drink to that"

I have a feeling Charlie and Angel are both the kind of people to leave lipstick marks on their partners and just not tell them so Husk and Vaggie have to check each other out real quick before going anywhere. I mean no questions asked just one of them standing in front of the other with their arms and legs spread out until the other one gives them a thumbs up or a rag to clean it off with.

I also think it would be funny if Husk was the first person to know Vaggie was an angel he just didn't mention it. He says so himself that the residents of the hotel will spill their secrets when they get drunk so Vaggie definitely got drunk and let it slip that she was an angel but didn't remember it by morning. Husk's motto is basically "That's none of my business" so he just doesn't say anything.

Also continuing with the "that's none of my business" thing, Vaggie absolutely agrees with that sentiment as long as it doesn't hurt Charlie or the hotel. Neither of them like people digging into their business and having Alastor in their lives means someone is ALWAYS digging so it's nice to be with someone who just does not care.

Oh and they both shit on Alastor 24/7 so good for them

PREENING EACH OTHER!!! By the time Vaggie gets her wings back they're close enough for this. Husk hates his wings and is shit at taking care of them but Vaggie really wants this to happen. She does miss some things about the exorcists and that's one of them. Of course she would never say that out loud but Husk gets it and they do it anyway.

Vaggie would start flying ALL THE TIME after getting her wings like she has so much time to catch up on. Angel knows that her and Husk are good friends and that Husk hates his form so he'll get Vaggie to convince Husk to fly with her. It takes a little bit but they have fun and Charlie is really proud of her so it's worth it.

They can literally sit in comfortable silence for hours and not get bored

They bicker all the time about everything like they'll say the meanest shit but they're besties and they're joking so it's fine

They are so down to kill Valentino at any time. They have multiple plans, they have lists, they're really creative about it too.

They'll just sit, people watch, and judge strangers together

They're so judgemental but also the least judgmental??? They'd be like "Why would you do that you dumbass" but also actually listen to what's being said and try to find a reasonable solution for each other

Double dates that Vaggie and Husk don't actually want to go on but unfortunately Charlie and Angel are convincing (they have a really good time)

They were both stripped from their occupations (overlord/angel). They miss it sometimes and they feel bad about it because they were both terrible people during those times. When they get like this they always seek each other's company. Sometimes they actually talk about it, sometimes they change the subject to something completely different, sometimes they have a drink and sit in silence. Either way they only acknowledge it with each other.

Husk teaches Vaggie how to make drinks. It's calming for him (even though it's annoying that he's technically being forced to do it) so he thought she might like it. She does and is actually really good at it. When they get more residents she'll help him out behind the bar.

Sometimes they'll sing together. They sound amazing and their partners love it. Husk also tries to teach Vaggie how to play saxophone it does not go as good as bartending did

They're the only ones in the hotel that can speak Spanish so yes they do use that to their advantage

Are both so tired all the time. They just deserve a stress free nap. They end up curled up together asleep and are found by Angel in the middle of the night. He takes a picture and immediately sends it to Charlie. Charlie and Angel manage to keep the picture but are not allowed to show anyone or ever mention it again.

They would never actually admit to being friends even though they're best friends and one of the few people the other can actually stand being around

JUST HUSK AND VAGGIE BEING BEST FRIENDS YOU GUYS

#oh jeez this is a long one #Hazbin Hotel #huskerdust #charlie hazbin hotel #chaggie #husk hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #why isn't there any content of them being friends #I need this so bad #seriously what demon do I have to make a deal with to make this happen #I feel like they interact the least but why #the potential #I'm manifesting so hard vivziepop herself fears my power #I can't be alone in this please guys #what is wrong with me #the Huskerdust fanfic I was reading just updated this is fate #Am I posting too much???#I feel like I'm posting too much

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spookysteddie · 8 months

Text

Studio Sessions

18+ MINORS DNI

Modern!rockstar!Eddie x influencer!fem!reader

Series masterlist here

cw: voice recording during sex, reader gets insecure, studio times, fluff, flirting, pet names, oral (fem! receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, dirty talk, reader gets what she wants.

wc: 3.6k

a/n: this got away from me... I hope you all enjoy it! Feel free to send in requests for these two if you have them!! ALSO: this is the last post for them I'll have with a tag list... it's so much work and not that I dont love y'all ( I do) it's just hard. I hope y'all still love me and understand ❤️.

...

Is it normal to miss someone you just met?

Is it normal to go on a few dates, sleep over their house like every night and still miss them immensely when they're gone?

You and Eddie have spent every moment together since that first real date. Has he asked you to be his girlfriend yet? No. But you really don’t like to think too far into that one because then you’ll spiral, which is no good for anyone.

It didn’t matter too much. You knew it didn’t matter and you knew that he wasn’t fucking anyone else because he was either in your bed at night, or you were in his. I mean he could be fucking other people during the day, but you doubted it.

Back to the missing him part. It feels weird to miss someone who is a few feet in front of you, who you can literally see. But here you are, Eddie standing on the other side of some glass gathering things, and you miss him. You can’t help your thoughts from wandering back to if he feels the same way. But also, why would he? Men don’t act like that, right?

“Sweetheart, you ready?” Eddie's voice cuts through the fog of uncertainty.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. You were in the studio with Corroded Coffin, getting to watch their recording process. Eddie is right, there is something missing from a few of those songs, but you’re unsure if your voice is what is missing. You’re willing to try, though, still honored every agreed to this.

Eddie sets you up, putting headphones on you so you can hear the music. “Okay, sweet angel, don’t get too close to the mic because it can cause the sound to get a little weird. Got it?”

“I got it.” You grin up at him. He kisses you sweetly, your body growing hot.

He leaves, going to stand outside the booth with the rest of the band and his producer. He gives you a thumbs up, smile lighting up his face. He’s been more than excited that you agreed to do this.

You hear a count before the music starts, you quickly look down at the lyrics sheet in front of you. When you get the cue you start, turning on the most bedroom voice you can manage, eyes locking with Eddie’s as you speak. “Mine, be mine. Love me. Never let me go.”

You smirk at him as he squirms, his friends hitting his arm. You aren’t sure why it makes you happy to watch him squirm but it does. You let out a laugh, real and loud, instead of saying your next lines.

The producer perks up, cutting off the music, “oh my god, that was amazing! I need more of those.”

You feel your face get warm, a small and shy giggle leaving your chest. You don’t hear Eddie enter the room, but you can feel him. His energy calling to yours. You hum, not caring that they’re still recording you.

He pulls your headphones off, “great job, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, baby.” You lean in kissing his lips. It’s quick, just enough to get a taste of him. “This is a lot of fun. I like this!”

“You sounded very beautiful.”

You giggle, looking up at him grinning, “I was just talking.”

He kisses your forehead and whispers to you, “no. You were using that voice you use when you’re desperate for me to fuck you.”

You freeze, looking up at him. He’s looking at you with that sexy smirk on his face, making your stomach flip and clit pulse. God, he’s so hot when he’s doing absolutely nothing, dressed in black sweatpants and a sweatshirt, dressing comfortably for the long day in the studio. You could kiss him, right now.

No, scratch that, you could fuck him right now. You would if there weren’t six other people looking at you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you whisper, winking up at him.

He kisses you quickly, leaving you wanting more as he pulls away. “Ready for the next one?”

…

You’ve been here for 8 hours.

Between adding little snippets of your voice, the band recording the rest of their songs, adding background vocals and putting in instruments, it takes a while. And you are tired. So tired in fact that during their last two songs, you fell asleep on the little couch in the studio.

You know this because you’re woken up by a soft voice and a hand brushing your hair out of your face.

“Sweet angel? Hey, baby.” You know it’s Eddie's voice based on the softness and sweetness he reserves only for you.

You stretch, groaning just a little as your joints crack, “m’sorry for falling asleep. Didn’t mean to.” Your voice sounds small and a little crocky with sleep. You cover your mouth as a small yawn slips out, “s’cuse me. I’m sorry.”

He laughs, kissing your free hand, “don’t apologize. We had a long night and early morning. Could’ve gone back to my place and slept?”

You shake your head, “mm-mm. Gotta be supportive. It sounds great and your fans will love it.”

His grins widens, lips meeting your knuckles. He looks tired too and you sort of regret keeping him up most of the night. Well, actually, it was a mutual thing. You’d tried getting him to go to bed but he just ‘couldn’t get enough’ and then when you tried again, while he was still inside you and growing soft, but the second he shifted, you were pushing him on his back and riding him. See, mutual.

“I’m glad you think it’s great, sweet girl. But you won’t upset me if you go home.”

Home. The word clangs through you and makes your head spin. It shouldn’t because he definitely didn’t mean anything behind it. It was his home so of course he’s called it just ‘home’ and you are for sure overthinking it.

You shake your head, both to clear it and to answer him, “no. I can wait. How much longer?”

“Like another fifteen minutes? I just need to listen to that last take and the boys need to add some background stuff. Then we can go.” His thumb is rubbing along your knuckles, his touch soft even if his hands are calloused.

“I’ll wait.”

And you do, this time staying awake. You post some instagram stories, making extra sure to mute it so you don’t spill a single note. Everyone loves the little insights to your time with Eddie, his fans enjoying seeing a different side to him. Of course, your parents still aren’t happy.

You haven’t spoken to them since that phone call. You don’t need their opinions and Eddie has yet to be a bad person when it came to you.

In fact, he’s good at planning dates and making sure no one follows. Blocking the paparazzi from getting unflattering photos of you. Sending you with security if needed. He cares. He cares more than anyone else ever has.

It feels nice to date someone who doesn’t see you as a ticket to their fifteen minutes of fame. Who didn’t look at you as a way to further their own career. Sure, Eddie was more famous than you were, something the press loves to point out. But in some way you were on the same level. It was more than refreshing.

“Ready?”

You look up at his brown eyes and nod, letting him take your hand to help you up, your coat already in his hands.

Once you both are ready to brave the slightly chilly weather, he takes your hand and leads you out. “There’s going to be people out here okay? Just so you're prepared.”

You grin, looking over at him, “I am prepared, Eddie. I know the cost of dat- um, being seen with you.”

If he catches your almost slip up, he doesn’t say anything. He just smirks, squeezing your hand as he opens the doors to the outside. Cameras flash and people scream, you’re practically blinded by the flashing bulbs. It doesn’t last long though, Eddie helping you into the car before getting in himself and closing the door, the sounds of screams muffled slightly.

“God, I love them but the screaming kills my ears,” he presses his finger to his ear, blocking it slightly before releasing it.

You giggle, raising a brow, “aren’t you used to it? You hardly wear your ears on stage.”

It was true. Eddie had this habit of taking out the ears he wears on stage, usually used to help keep beat as most artists can’t hear the music coming from the speakers.

He shrugs, “ya aren’t wrong but I feel like I’m far enough away that the sound doesn’t hurt that bad? I really should keep my ears in so I don’t like lose my hearin’ before I’m 32.”

“Should hear it from the crowd,” you tilt your head slightly. “I had to get little ear plugs after the first time I saw you guys live. My ears rang for a few days after and I was yelling cause I couldn’t hear.”

His eyes get wide, “that sounds awful. I should get ya some custom ears so you can hear what we’re doing on stage.”

That makes your heart flutter a little, the fact that he wants you to hear all they do. “I don’t think I could deal with the metronome ticking.” He looks at you, “how do you know that happens?”

You playfully roll your eyes, scrolling through your phone till you find a post you liked a little bit ago. “This. It’s a video of what Taylor Swift’s sound like inside. It was very interesting.”

He watches it, three times actually. And then he giggles and scrolls, some familiar music starts to play and you already know what he’s looking at. Your face flames as you move to take your phone back. Unfortunately, he’s faster, moving so you can’t grab it from where you sit.

He scrolls again, “you like these edits of me?” His tone is teasing and you feel like you’re going to die. He was never supposed to know you like thrist traps of him, most of them to his own songs.

“E-Eddie give it back,” you plead with him.

But he shakes his head, scrolling again and again and again. “These edits are actually really good. M’impressed. I also think it’s cute you like them.”

You finally reach your phone, tugging it from his hands, “it’s rude to go through someone's phone, Eddie.”

He fake pouts, “awww, are you embarrassed baby?”

You don’t say anything as he coos at you because you are embarrassed that he saw those. But fuck, he looked so fucking hot in those edits. They make you feel things deep inside you, things you’ve used your vibrator to take care of.

He leans forward, his hand reaching out and cupping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. I think it’s kind of hot you have those liked.”

He pulls you closer, his lips meeting yours in a sweet, soft kiss. That feeling comes back, the one with a voice that questions why he hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend yet. It’s been some time and you spend a lot of it together. You don’t want to push him, to make him look at you as needy or too much or annoying. That’s the last thing you want. You’ve heard it enough, from boyfriends, from your parents, from the people in your comment section. And the last thing you wanted was to hear it from Eddie.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes scanning your face. Fuck he knows.

“Are you okay?” He asks you with worry in his eyes. It kind of makes your chest hurt to worry him.

“Oh yeah! I’m fine. Just… tired.”

But, of course, he sees right through it, “no. You’re in your head. Come on… spill it.”

You can’t. You want to express to him how you feel, to ask him to not waste your time. If he isn’t interested in you then you need him to tell you that so you can move on. But you know he is interested, you just sat and recorded bits for their album for fucks sake! He calls you sweet names and listens to what you have to say. He fucks you in a way you’ve never been before. He’s in tune to you and your needs, so the idea he doesn’t want you is absurd.

But… “nothing. I just have that photo shoot coming up and I’m just nervous. It could make or break my career.”

Half truth. You were nervous about the campaign. It could make or break your career if you didn’t do a good job or if people didn’t like it.

He looks like he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push you further. You wish he would.

…

Eddie’s lips kiss along your chest, nipping a sucking sweet marks into the skin there. Marking you. Owning you. His hand moving up to tease your breast while his mouth sucks on the neglected one.

His phone is set up beside you, the little red dot indicating he’s recording. It definitely catches the gasp you make as he works your chest, but he just feels so good you don’t think about it.

He asked you six times before hitting record if you were okay with this, him voice recording. And you were, truly. He wanted your moans for his music but wanted some variety in there. So, he’s recording the entire round of sex. You’d be a dirty little liar if you said it didn’t turn you on. The idea that he’ll have this on his phone and in his music. Your moans immortalized on tape? It was hot as fuck.

Eddie swaps sides, eyes meeting yours as he licks and sucks and bites. It hits you right at your center. He was hot as fuck, actually. Looking slightly feral as he kisses down your body. You can’t take your eyes off of his when he settles between your legs, putting them over his shoulders to give him more room.

“God you’re so wet for me, sweetheart,” he runs a finger through your slick, making you moan. “So pretty. Was so hot watchin’ you today.”

“But I-” he licks up your slit, cutting you off what you were about to say.

He sucks on your clit, making your back arch. It was insane to you how well he knew your body. He’s learned every dip, every curve of your skin. He’s learned exactly how to drag deep moans from you with his mouth, tongue and cock. Memorized them. He did it quickly too.

“B-but I didn’t really do anything.” He slips two fingers inside you, stretching you out. “God! Fuck that feels good.”

He doesn’t say anything, just laughs and curls his fingers. Eddie knows exactly what he’s doing, turning your brain off with every thrust of his fingers.

“J-just like that, baby! Oh god, don’t stop.” You can feel the orgasm building deep in your belly, your whole body growing hot as you squeeze his fingers. “M-more. Eddie, I need more.”

He adds a finger, the burn from the stretch feeling incredible. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh my god.” You don’t even know what you’re saying, just a babbling mess. This was typical when it came to the way Eddie worked your body. He’s the only one who’s worked you like this.

Your orgasm hits you, mouth dropping open as your back arches on the bed, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!”

You ride it out with Eddie’s help, his fingers slowing and his mouth coming off your clit with a soft pop. And when he finally removes his fingers, sucking them between his lips and moaning, you feel empty. You need him to fuck you, to feel him inside you.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby. Just can’t get enough,” his voice drops a few octaves and you swear your heart stutters for a moment.

“Please…” you whine.

It hits you then that he is fully clothed and you are as naked as the day you were born. The dynamic is hotter than it should be, you might need to talk to your therapist about that. Or not. That’s an issue for another day.

He pulls off his shirt, stomach flexing with the movement, “please what, angel?”

His hands pull at his belt, tugging it through the loops before meeting the same fate as his shirt on the floor. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth and you forget the English language for a moment. He pops the button on his jeans, sliding the zipper down as he waits for your answer.

You manage to find it, “please fuck me. I-I need it.”

He slides his jeans and boxers down his legs, his hard cock bobbing free. You squirm, licking your lips while your eyes rake over him. You need him, need him in many more ways than just sexually. You need him as yours, need him to love you. You can see the life you’d have if he called you his. Your babies would be beautiful thats for fucking sure.

You don’t really have time to think further on it because Eddie slides inside you, his lips meeting yours and swallowing your moans. He tastes like you, cigarettes and weed. An odd mix but you love it anyway.

“Shit, pretty girl. This pussy feels amazing. S’like you were fuckin’ made for me.”

Your heart pounds and you know he can feel it, you can feel his. “I-I was. I was m-made for you, Eddie. Made for you” You kind of don’t mean for it to come out, but it can easily be brushed off as heat of the moment dirty talk.

But there is something in the way he’s fucking you right now, something different. It’s slower than it has been, sweeter. Like he wants to take his time here, like he wants to feel every inch of you. His eyes shine with lust and something else, something he blinks away before you can decipher it. You have a feeling you already know what it is, because you feel the same way.

“Yeah? You think so?” He lets you wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him close. “Think we were supposed to end up here?”

You’re going to die if he keeps talking like this. He’s actually going to kill you. More so because you do believe in the invisible string theory. Everyone can say you’re going too fast, but you think your string is attached to him. Everything about him screams it in confirmation.

“Y-yes. I do.”

He kisses you soft and sweet, adjusting slightly to hit that sweet spot inside you. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to his cheeks to hold him there while you kiss him. Again, it’s all slow and sweet and filled with emotion.

“Glad we’re on the same page, baby.”

He fucks you just a little faster, hitting all your sweet spots and making the coil in your belly twist tighter. “I- oh my god, Eddie.”

He laughs, not straying from your lips, “I love when you pray to me.”

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, a deep moan falling from your lips as your velvet walls squeeze him. It makes your head spin and you kind of feel like you’re going to pass out from how good it feels. You don’t, of course.

“That’s it, baby. Such a good girl coming for me. My pretty angel.”

“Y-yours.”

He nods, “mine.”

Mine

The word cycles through your head over and over, making you clench harder around him.

“Fuck, baby. Gonna cum. Fuck fuck FUCK!”

He spills inside you as he moans your name. It’s angelic when he does it and you’re gonna make him send the recording to you immediately so you can hear it again and again. He collapses on you, being careful to not crush you with his weight.

“I s-swear on my life, you’re the best I’ve ever had.”

You giggle, shaking your head, “i bet you say that to every girl you fuck.”

He lifts his head, his face serious, “no. I don’t. You’re the first person I’ve ever said that to.”

You just stare at him, not knowing what to say.

“Did you mean what you said? About us being made for each other?” He asks it quietly, like he’s afraid of anyone hearing him. Anyone but you.

You swallow the lump in your throat. You can do this, tell him how you feel. Right? “I-I did. We fit together so well. Don't ya think?”

Now it’s his turn to swallow, “I do… I meant it too.”

You aren’t sure where this is going, but you hope to whoever the fuck is listening that it’ll go your way.

“You did? You haven’t known me that long.”

He shrugs, “so? You spend every night here, or me at your place. You get to know someone pretty quickly that way.” He laughs a little, pushing some of your hair out of your face.

Ask me

“I would agree,” you say as you run your fingertips up his arm.

“Would you agree to stay forever if I asked you to?”

You hold your breath and nod. He gives you a look that makes you squeak out a small “yes.”

A huge grin breaks out across his face, bright white teeth showing, “then stay. With me and be mine. And I’ll be yours. No more wandering around lookin’ for each other.”

You blink away the burn behind your eyes, you cannot cry at someone asking you to date them, “n-no more wandering.”

#stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader #modern!rockerstar!eddie munson x influencer!fem!reader

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restinslices · 2 months

Text

小天使

Bi-Han x Child!Reader (no gender specified)

Word count: 2036

Summary: Who would have thought that raising a child would be the hardest thing in a world full of gods, Edenians, sorcerers, war, and whatever else life decided to throw in the mix.

Translations for future reference: 小天使 - Little angel. 爸爸- Baba/dad. 我爱你! - I love you! (I got all these translations from Google, so they could be wrong).

If someone were to ask Bi-Han which was harder, being a Grandmaster or having a young child, he'd say the latter without hesitation.

It's not that he didn't like being a father. It's just that kids… well… they're special creatures. Special in the sense that things that made sense to them, made no sense to the adults around them.

Here are just a few moments that made Bi-Han wanna face the wall and never be seen again.

Bald People

“Chew with your mouth closed 小天使” Bi-Han used his hand to push your jaw up then wipe juice from your mouth, earning a giggle from you. He had no idea what was funny, but he learned long ago to not ask many questions. Your brain would never make sense to him and vice versa.

To say it was a nice day would be an understatement. For the first time in days there was no rain in the area, the cold didn't bite at anyone's exposed flesh (something he didn't mind, but your body didn't process the cold the same way his did. At least not yet), the clouds didn't cast the world into darkness, no. Nothing like that. It was clear. Not a cloud in sight. No rumbles of thunder. Just a clear day. Perfect for eating fruit with his little buddy outside.

Bi-Han made a fatal error though. He allowed himself to get too comfortable. He stopped being on his guard.

“爸爸!” You shouted. “爸爸 WHY IS THAT GUY BALD?!”.

Please let that be a hallucination…

He followed where your finger was pointing, and to his disappointment, he wasn't hallucinating. You were pointing to a Lin Kuei ninja who had taken his mask off to reveal his smooth and bald head. The man- well, not just him. Every ninja looked over at the two of you in shock.

“Hey!” he pushed your hand down. “What'd I say about pointing?” he scolded. It was all he could think to say. What was he supposed to do in this situation? He had never been advised on what to do if his child suddenly became interested in bald people.

“BUT HE IS BALD! WHY IS HE BALD?!”. Bi-Han said a silent prayer to the Elder Gods to give him the strength to not strangle you.

“Stop yelling! Eat your fruit!”

“But why is he bald?” at least you weren't screaming anymore. Small wins. “I'm not bald. You're not bald. I've never seen a bald person in real life. What's the word for 'bald’ in Chinese? I can't remember-”

His hand covered your mouth. He sighed. If only he could stay like this forever.

As the Grandmaster, he wasn't afraid of confrontation. That'd be ridiculous. Didn't mean he wanted you poking at some random bald guy though.

Your small hands pulled his down from your mouth. He hated you were so cute, with your wide eyes and chubby cheeks. It made it a lot harder to be stern with you.

Bi-Han having trouble with being stern? You definitely had changed him.

“But he's bald” the last word came out your mouth in amazement. Had you really never seen a bald person before? He never felt the need to show you one. Why would he? “Come on, child of mine! Let's go watch bald people today!”. Kuai Liang had kids of his own, but he hadn't brought up kids could become fascinated with bald people. Was this normal?

Parenting was so confusing.

“爸爸!”

“Eat your fruit” he practically begged.

“I'm gonna go ask him why he's bald!” You exclaimed. “Excuse me! Kind stranger! Hey-” with a sigh, Bi-Han threw you over his shoulder, grabbed the bowl of fruit, and walked towards the house.

“Hey!” Your small hands hit his back and your legs kicked up in the air. “Hey I was talking to him! Hey! Hey! Kind stranger! Why are you bald?!”.

You continued your shouts of curiosity, all while Bi-Han continued carrying you over his shoulder. And once you both got back inside, you still hadn't understood what you did wrong.

“It was just a question” you defended as you bit at your nails and swung your legs from your seat. “Can I have ice cream?”.

Bi-Han sighed.

War was easier than this.

Duckies

As soft as you had made him, he still pushed you when it came to training.

And as silly as you were, you were still a fantastic fighter.

It filled him with pride to watch you use your small size to your advantage. You'd dodge under the other ninjas legs, kick them in places like their shins, you'd even crawl up their bodies and startle them.

His perfect little warrior.

But before being a warrior, you were still a child. So it was to his disappointment, but not surprise, when you gasped and pointed behind him. Something had gotten your attention.

“Look! Look!” You exclaimed as you ran past him.

What he expected to see was something like a rainbow. Something that made sense to get excited over. What he didn't expect to see were two white ducks waddling next to each other.

“They're ducks”

“They're ducks!” You repeated after him. “They're so cute!” You ran at him and tugged on his arm. “Can I have them?! Please please please?! Can I have them both?!”.

Would it be terrible to make a joke about cooking them?

More than likely.

“No” he said sternly and grabbed your arm. “Go back to-”

“I wanna go draw them” you whined. You tried to pull away from him, even going so far as to try and pry his hand away, but you were a small child.

By the Elder Gods… maybe if he screamed everytime he woke up, he'd have more patience.

Bi-Han tried his hardest to say “go back to your training” as sternly as he could, in hopes it'd spark obedience in you. You weren't an obedient warrior though. You were a child.

You did what he hated most. You fell to the floor, becoming dead weight in his hand. You mumbled whines he couldn't, and didn't care to hear. Everytime he tried to pick you up, you fought to stay back down. It didn't matter that he threatened to take away everything you loved. Even using the typical lines about Santa didn't work. You didn't care about Santa, or your toys, or getting an earlier bedtime, or no longer having candy, or anything else he could think of. You were in love with these stupid fucking birds now and all you wanted to do was draw them.

“Fine!” he shouted. “Go draw your ducks!”.

Of course, your sour mood was gone now. You ran away, leaving him behind to dismiss his men and debate on asking one of his brothers to babysit.

Bi-Han hoped that this phase would only last a few days.

But hope never really did anything.

The phase lasted months. There were drawings of ducks everywhere. There were framed pictures, pictures on the fridge, pictures in between couch cushions, he even found some in the bathroom. Why the hell were you drawing in the bathroom?

The sound of crayons scribbling on paper and you humming filled his ears when he entered your room. Ducks again he was sure. Duck this, duck that, duck every fucking thing.

“Come on. We're visiting your uncles today”

“One more minute”.

He sighed. He kept giving you “one more minute”. You were supposed to have left ten minutes ago. There wasn't a set time you both were supposed to be at Kuai Liangs home. He just wanted to be there by 2:30pm, but it was 2:25pm and you still hadn't left.

“No more minutes” he didn't know why he kept trying to be stern with you. “We're going. Now.”

He walked closer to you then, prepared to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off if he had to. Thankfully, you slammed your crayon down and showed off your drawing with a wide smile.

“I drew us as ducks!”.

It was true. Though the ducks weren't entirely anatomically correct, Bi-Han could still see the two ducks holding hands and smiling. You even added hair on both of you, and on the bottom in pink sat the words “我爱你!”.

He pointed at the words and asked “who's saying that?”.

“Both of us” you answered. “Cause I love you and you love me!”. Very true. Even if you made his head pound sometimes, he loved you more than life itself. “It's a gift for you”.

Was it stupid to feel happy as he held the paper in his hands? It was just ducks after all.

But in the same breath, you took two things you loved and put them together. Perhaps it was insecurity, but sometimes he worried that you weren't aware of how much he loved you. He was glad to know that although he pushed you, it didn't change how you felt for him.

“Do you like it?”.

Did he like it?

He left a kiss on top of your head and nodded.

Maybe ducks weren't so bad.

Party Time!

When Bi-Han felt himself being shook awake, he knew it could only be one person doing it. So, being the reasonable and mature adult he was, he decided to ignore the person.

“爸爸. 爸爸. 爸爸” You whispered while shaking him. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to still be asleep. “Dad. Dad. Daddy. Dada. 爸爸”. He groaned and tried to shake you off while still pretending to be asleep. Unfortunately for him, you inherited his stubbornness.

He felt your breath on his ear as you whispered “are you awake? Wake up”.

Fuck. You weren't gonna stop. Maybe you'd tire eventually, but it wouldn't be anytime soon.

He sighed, opened his eyes, then looked at you. “Why are you awake?” he grumbled, noticing the lack of light coming through his curtains.

“I can't sleep” you complained. “I had a bad dream”. Well now he felt a little bad for ignoring you.

“Come lay next to me-”

“I don't wanna go back to sleep” you whined. You fully collapsed on top of him, which he wished you didn't do because your head was now on his throat. “I wanna stay up. Let's have a party!”.

“No” he answered simply. He pushed you off, much to your dismay. “I'll read you a story-”

“Nooooooooo” you whined from next to him. “Party time! Let's have a party! Dad and kid party!”. He rolled his eyes at your jazz hands. Parents needed a daily salary.

“We're not having a party,” he said. He wasn't even sure what kind of party you were even talking about. Either way, it was far too late. “I will read you a bedtime story. You'll like the story. Then you'll go to sleep”.

More whines. “Then the monster will come back”.

That made him raise a brow. “The monster?” he questioned.

Your frown deepened. “The monster” you repeated. “In my dream, there was a monster. You left me behind”.

Oh his heart was so soft when it came to you. He could've told you to suck it up and that it was just a dream. Instead, his eyes softened and he rubbed your cheek. Your hand gripped his in response.

“I wouldn't leave you behind”

“You wouldn't?”.

You sweet child…

“Never” he said firmly. That answer seemed to satisfy you. You burrowed yourself into his side and let out a sigh of relief. Poor thing. He wished he could prevent you from having bad dreams ever again.

He stayed awake beside you, patiently waiting for you to fall back asleep.

You frustrated Bi-Han. That much was true. You gave him headache after headache and confused him beyond belief.

It didn't matter in the long run. It didn't matter how many times you said something inappropriate in public, or how many obsessive phases you went through.

It wouldn't matter how many tantrums you had, or how many times you woke him up while the moon was still high in the sky.

None of that would matter.

He would always stand beside you.

He would always love and adore you.

His warrior.

His little duck.

His 小天使.

I haven’t written x reader fanfic in a hot minute, so I’m still a little rusty. I hope y’all enjoyed either way! While proof reading I realized that Kuai Liang would more than likely live with Bi-Han and wouldn’t have his own home to visit. But uuuhhhh it’s already to written 😀. So let’s all just ignore that little error.

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delightfullyquirkydoodles · 4 months

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Okay, buckle up, friends and neighbours, because it's time for:

THE DOOPLISS DISSERTATION

(Obviously, you should take all of this with a HUGE chunk of salt, since I'm not only an internet-poisoned fandom blogger, but also a former English major with a penchant for over-reading.

Still, I spent a long time writing this, so I'd appreciate it if you gave it a read.)

So before we talk about Doopliss himself, I feel like we should talk about Creepy Steeple, since a lot of the topics I'm going to be touching on relate to the actual building.

Neither the original Gamecube version nor the Switch remake really bothers to explain what Creepy Steeple actually is.

None of Goombella's tattles say anything about the building's intended purpose. The name vaguely implies that it's a church of some kind -- in Japanese, it's called Odoron Jiin, or "Astonishing Temple" -- but that's still not very helpful.

Still, for the purposes of this analysis, I'm going to assume that it's meant to be a church.

This brings me to the Steeple's stained glass window, which shows a scary-looking Doopliss standing over some piranha plants.

From a design standpoint, I'm guessing that this detail was added to give the location a spooky vibe, but from an in-universe perspective, the implications are wild.

Like, who designed this? How long ago? And why? What the heck is it supposed to represent?

Unsurprisingly, the game offers no real answers, but I have a couple of theories.

The first is that the people of Twilight Town (or their ancestors, or something) created the window in Doopliss's honor.

Stained glass windows often depict saints or angels, so maybe the Twilighters used to worship him? Like, maybe Creepy Steeple was once dedicated to him and then, for whatever reason, the worshippers decided to leave?

It's not super likely, but I didn't want to rule out any possibilities. This is a weird freaking temple. Literally anything is possible, as far as I'm concerned.

My second theory is that Doopliss designed the window himself. He seems like a guy with a lot of spare time, so it's not too much of a stretch to say that he came up with the idea and then spent weeks building it by hand.

He could have also bullied the Boos into constructing it for him. I dunno. I just have this mental image of him pulling pranks on them and generally being a nuisance until they caved.

The bottom line is someone wanted to Doopliss's face to be front and center. And if that someone is Doopliss himself, then hoo boy, there is a lot to unpack here.

Maybe I'm projecting, but it feels like Doopliss is wrestling with some major self-esteem issues.

Despite being an incredibly powerful shapeshifter who somehow cursed an entire town, he seems very childish. He spends all his time watching TV and coming up with new jokes. He throws tantrums when he loses. He wears a party hat, of all things.

Based on that, I'd say that he's probably starved for attention. He's probably pretty lonely living in Creepy Steeple all by himself (doubly so if my theory about the Twilighters is correct).

I'd even go so far as to say that his scheme to turn the Twilighters into pigs is motivated by this need for attention. I mean, what better way to get people to notice you than to cause a town-wide panic?

I feel like the disguises he uses over the course of the main story also support this theory.

Though Mario, Zip Toad and Professor Frankly are quite different from one another, they all have one important thing in common: they're famous. Mario's a world-renowned adventurer, Zip Toad is a well-known actor and Frankly is a tenured professor whose students love him.

Doopliss even alludes to this after stealing Mario's body, telling him, "You're so popular around here! I just love being you!"

By transforming into beloved figures, Doopliss can get the attention he craves.

I also think that this is why he joined the Shadow Sirens. Sure, Beldam abuses him almost as badly as she abused Vivian, but at least she notices him. That's better than nothing.

The most conclusive piece of textual evidence is found in the epilogue. In her letter to Mario, Goombella explains that Doopliss has joined Flurrie on-stage in her production of "Paper Mario".

Obviously his shapeshifting abilities make the play a lot more realistic, but why would he bother participating in it at all? This guy was a villain for most of the game. Why would he suddenly decide to join up with one of his enemies?

Because, as far as I can tell, he's not a villain. Just a guy who's sick of being ignored.

I dunno. Doopliss's motivations have never been super clear, but I feel like there's more to him than meets the eye.

If you have any thoughts or ideas of your own, feel free to comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

#paper mario #paper mario the thousand year door #paper mario ttyd #doopliss #screw it. we're main-tagging this.#this dissertation was brought to you by my brother asking why i like doopliss so much. this is why.#he's just a silly little guy

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cringefailvox · 2 months

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overlord husk aus are very interesting to me in part because they present such a radically different vision of the huskerdust dynamic that is very compelling to me. present-day husk and angel are exhausted. these are people genuinely at rock bottom, who have been so worn down and chipped away at by the long, dragging stalemate of their circumstances that they have nothing left to give but their bare minimum selves. which is okay, and it's enough for them; a lot of what makes their dynamic so interesting is that it's about two people at their lowest rediscovering what it feels like to not be alone down there, to even begin thinking about the possibility of climbing out of the deep dark hole they've made their peace with now that they won't be doing it by themselves.

in contrast, overlord husk aus imagine a version of husk and angel before they were losers together. they imagine versions of them that haven't been beaten down all the way just yet: husk at the height of his greed and power and reckless addictions, angel riding the high of his stardom while adamantly refusing to peel back the surface and acknowledge the rot. both of them still digging the hole and saying to themselves, "i've got a ladder, i'm not going to get stuck. i can always climb back out."

and having these two meet at this stage in their lives, i think they would really, really not make each other better. husk's consideration for the souls on his chain had to have been close to zero for him to use them as gambling chips the way he did, especially the recklessly self-destructive way he did that ended with his own soul in alastor's pocket. and i imagine that for a long time, angel lived in total willful denial about val's escalating abuse and the toll his increasingly demanding job was taking on him, because acknowledging it would be tantamount to making it real, making it something that could actually hurt him and not just be rationalized away, and so of course he'd put off doing that for as long as he could.

if husk had actually won angel's soul, it wouldn't have been any different from all the other people he traded back and forth across his table just for the illicit thrill of the game. angel probably would've had a whole sunk-cost freakout about it (what was the point of all that pain and suffering and lack of autonomy if all the consequences are coming from a stranger now and not val? when it isn't personal? and now he can't even claim a little bit of power back by saying he chose it, because he didn't.) angel knows full well what it looks like when someone is going to kill themselves with their addictions, but what obligation does he have to the guy who would just as quick give him up to somebody else if it gave him an adrenaline rush? nothing, that's what, and he has enough of his own problems anyway.

crucially, they're both INCREDIBLY self-absorbed. not even in a conceited or vain way, but just in that they're so wrapped up in their own mess that they can't see beyond it, they don't have any space for empathy, and furthermore, they have no reason to even try.

it's why the version of their dynamic we get in canon works so well—they're in the same place now, at just the right time to finally start opening up their worlds to how they affect other people (angel watching charlie interact with val at the studio; husk being forced by alastor to engage with the hotel's residents as the bartender). there's space for empathy in their lives now, because they've finally been brought so low that they can't hide anymore, can't look away, can't deny how completely and totally fucked they are. it's a kind of brutal honesty that can only really come from confronting your absolute worst-case scenario. but for them to even begin connecting with each other in any authentic sense, they needed to have the ladder taken away so they could finally bring themselves to stop digging, look up, and realize there's been someone down here with them all along.

#g-d i hope this isn't incoherent i've just been Thinking abt them so much #maybe one day i'll write an overlord husk au.... or smthn similar like an alternate timelines fic where they realize this current iteration #of themselves is actually the best one #huskerdust #angel dust #husk #hazbin hotel #husker

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madamefeu · 22 days

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Hi! Here’s what your favorite Hazbin Hotel ship says about you!

Radiodust: You're an old-timer who's been around since the pilot. One off-handed joke about Angel Dust wanting to suck Alastor's dick was all it took for you to start shipping them. You always ship the two most attractive male characters together in your fandoms, even if they have no real connection

Huskerdust: I’m not going to touch this one because I’ll probably get death threats if I don’t tell the Huskerdust fandom exactly what they want to hear

Radiorose: Hello, aro-ace community! You love this because they're the closet thing to a canon queerplatonic couple that currently exists in mainstream media, and as a fellow aro-ace, I’m in the exact same boat

Chaggie: You like the idea of forbidden love, but you're not interested in handling all of the social/political ramifications of it, and would prefer to conveniently gloss over both of those things just like in the show. This ship has the flavor profile of vanilla ice cream with chocolate chips, and so does your personality

Lucifer/Lilith: You only want one thing in this life, and that is for a powerful woman to step on your neck. You are a bottom to end all bottoms

Radioapple: Daddy kink, but in a voyeuristic way. You like watching two dads doing each other, but there is no way you’d ever let them touch you, no, all you want is to watch them go at it

Rosiemilla: Mommy kink, but in a voyeuristic way

Radiohusk: Oh, you would let a man do unspeakable things to you if he was hot enough. You read dark romances and you want a dark romance to happen to you in real life

Cherrisnake: You are absolutely terrible at handling your feelings for everyone you've ever crushed on, and will try to convince yourself that you hate the object of your affections because you lack the courage needed to make a move on them. It would take a life or death situation for you to tell your crush how you really feel about them, and even then you'd be more afraid of telling them than of dying

Guitarspear: Hello, Adam simps! You binge-read workplace romances and you fantasise about dating your boss even though he's a dick 90% of the time. Strangely, the fact that he's a dick makes you even more attracted to him

Staticmoth: Your ideal ship is two horrible people who deserve each other. You want what they have, but at the same time you don't

Zestmilla: Your preferred aesthetic is old married couple core, and I respect that. You binge-read found family fics on AO3, and your favorite tag is hurt/comfort

Radiostatic: You love the idea of someone being obsessed with you when you have no interest in them. You like to laugh at their, quite frankly, pathetic attempts to get you to notice them, and you're waiting for the day when the penny will drop and they'll realise that they are nothing to you, and never will be

Arackpentious: You have never cared about canon, and you don't intend to start now. You probably simp for Sir Pentious and use Arackniss as a self-insert. We know barely any canon information about him, so it's easy for you to project yourself onto him so that you can get doubly-dicked down by the Victorian snake man

Charlastor: You're all about the aesthetic. You got into this ship because there's an abundance of gorgeous fanart for it, even if there's no chance of them being together in canon. You don't care about that, however, because they look beautiful together and that's all that matters to you

Radiomimzy: You wish that the old canon of Mimzy being Alastor's girlfriend was still canon

Royalhalo: You hate Vaggie and you think that Charlie deserves better than her, and who better than the sugary sweet angel who was the first to hear Charlie out and argue in her favor when she found out the truth about the exterminations?

Cherridust: You are aggressively heterosexual and you believe that it is impossible for a man and a woman to be friends without one or both secretly harboring feelings for the other. You binge-read friends to lovers fics on Wattpad, and if a man so much as says hi to a woman, you will ship them

Cherrimoth: You like enemies to lovers, but in a bitch eating crackers kind of way. You either have a crush on someone that you love to hate from afar, or you want to fall in love with someone who hates you from afar

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sports-on-sundays · 4 months

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lucky strike / CL16

Summary: Charles x American!female!reader - F1 comes to Sin City and you unexpectedly run into a certain someone.

Warnings: gambling, alcohol, cussing, use of pet names (A LOT), flirting, one moment of implied jealousy

Requested?: Sort of! Thank you to everyone who voted for Charles in the poll!

Author's Note: Charles won out in the poll, so here you go, everybody! (Of course I HAD to use The Charles Vegas Podium Picture). Also, I listened to Lucky Strike by Maroon 5 while writing.

one in a million ; my lucky strike

Well, you thought the whole F1 thing was absolutely ridiculous. You couldn't care an ounce less about Formula 1, so you certainly weren't happy about all the complications of it coming to your city.

You would call yourself an all American girl, and you're proud of it. If any racing, NASCAR. Football is the sport with the brown ball you throw- NFL, not the white and black ball you kick. That's soccer. You have the greatest food, the greatest mix of cultures, the greatest weather. If you didn't know better, you'd say you have the greatest country, too.

You watched a Formula 1 race when you realized the whole Las Vegas Grand Prix thing was actual, and when you saw that (firstly) it was honestly pretty boring, and (secondly) the only American driver is basically the most sucky one, you decided it would be pretty hard to get into it.

You're a Vegas girl, and you're proud of it. You're actually from Los Angeles, California, but you moved to Vegas to chase your dreams and live the life you dreamed of a year ago with your boyfriend, and it was so worth it.

Now you identify yourself with Vegas even more than you do with the Los Angeles Rams, despite the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you seven months ago and left to go be a prodigal son in New York City.

You decided Vegas was perfect enough for your clever hand, and you'd continue to be a prodigal daughter right where you're at.

But now the Grand Prix is the newest thing, and you don't like it at all. All these people flooding in, like as if there's not already enough people. Just to watch some cars drive around in circles, closing up main roads? No, you're not into it.

Your girl friends all seem to think this is just the best thing, and you discuss it across the table with two of them. One says, "Honestly, the McLaren duo are the hottest."

"No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?" your other friend disagrees.

You snort in disbelief and say sarcastically, "How about neither? So you guys only care about this because the racers are hot? Give me a break."

"Well," one of your friends starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "They are hot. At first, I wasn't so sure, but, I mean, come on! Maybe we could get glimpses of them when they're in Vegas!"

"Or meet them!" your other friend pipes in.

You scoff. "Good luck with that. Aren't these guys self-focused millionaires with too much money for their own good? Probably all greedy idiots who hook up with every half-sexy girl who comes along. So if you're into that, sure, waste your time trying to meet some hot plutocrats, with the one percent chance you might get f*cked like crazy for a night before they forget about you and move back to their mansions across the world! F*ck, is race car driving even a real sport? It's f*cking driving cars. I could do that!"

Your friends don't really argue with you, because you're right. And clearly, they do only care about the hot racers, because you figure any real fan of the sport would argue with you.

Two days before the Strip is supposed to be closed up for the Grand Prix, you find yourself submerged in the vibrant energy of Wynn Las Vegas, the dazzling lights and sounds of the casino floor swirling around you. The scent of alcohol lingers in the air, a reminder of the drinks you've indulged in throughout the night.

You slip between two people to reach the roulette wheel, holding your newly bought chips, with money you've earned earlier in the night.

Bets are placed around the table over and over, as you earn more and more chips. You feel someone nudge your shoulder, and a cocky male voice comments next to you, "You're having a good night, huh?"

"Every night is a good night," you remark back, not even glancing up at the man talking with you. He seems to have some sort of accent that you can't place. Perhaps French?

Which means he's probably from Louisiana. Possibly Quebec.

Probably some rich idiot F1 fan who can afford to travel half way across the country for the Grand Prix.

You don't plan to even give him the light of day.

"Until it's not," he says as you watch the roulette wheel spin once more.

You smirk and feel his eyes on you as you collect more chips.

The game goes on, and you think he's gotten the message that you don't care to converse with him, because does shut up.

But now it's the last bet of the game. You take a sip from your glass and feel a stupid, risky streak in you.

Some idiot part of you that's drunk and wants to push her luck way too far.

You place a straight-up bet, all your chips on the number sixteen.

You can feel eyes on you, and the same man next to you from earlier says, "Are you stupid?"

You chuckle. "Possibly."

"You're going to lose all your-"

"No, I won't." You straighten your back, staring at the wheel. It's true, you've earned a lot of money throughout this game.

And honest, it is true that you're stupid.

But it's also true that for some reason, you're confident.

"So you're overconfident and risky? I like that," comments the guy next to you. "But you're going to lose all your money. All that good luck for nothing..."

"You'll see," you breathe, ignoring his little flirt. "It's going to land on sixteen."

"Sixteen, huh?" This man's hazel eyes sparkle, and something in you tells you that you've seen this guy's brown locks, bright dimples, and perfect stubble before.

You've seen him somewhere. Recently. Like some guy you could haven't been drunk with, but the memory is fuzzy.

But you weren't drunk with him.

Despite being sure you've seen this guy before, you're also sure you've never met him before, either.

"Yeah," you nod, looking away, staring as the roulette wheel begins spinning. "It's my lucky number."

You're not looking at him, but you can feel him grin next to you. "Your lucky number, huh? Just so happens, it's mine, too."

You snort, rolling your eyes. "Is that some lame attempt of a flirt?"

"No. It really is my lucky number." By his tone, you can tell that grin has downgraded to a smirk. "But if you'd like to see a lame attempt of a flirt, that's an option, too..." His voice lowers as you feel his arm snake around you, and his hand land on your waist.

You gently shove it off as the wheel begins to slow. You hold your breath, watching, this stupid French boy no longer even a fraction of your concerns. All focus is on your slight potential lucky strike.

And then the world stops as the wheel stops, too.

On sixteen.

And then it all comes flooding back. "Oh my God!" you squeal stupidly, covering your mouth as there's rounds of, "You've got to be kidding me," "No way," "It's impossible!" and "How lucky is this girl?"

You feel surges of shock and pride as you collect all your money. Once you've received it, after such luck, and earning a fortune, you decide you're going to have a drink. Or more than just one.

But when you turn, there's that guy again.

"What's up?" you ask, the grin on your face impossible to wipe off.

"How did you know it was going to stop on sixteen?" he questions, and he looks a little more handsome than he did before as this time he succeeds in taking your waist.

"Are you trying to pick my pocket?" you question warily, though, shoving his hand away.

"Not at all," he chuckles, "But you're a smart girl, aren't you? And I think I might be a lucky boy. Come on- I'll buy you a drink."

You snort. "No way, pretty boy! I can buy my own drink, after what just happened! How cocky are you?"

"Call me cocky, or call me rich, but either way, you're too sexy to have to pay for your own drink."

You scoff at this, but figure that you can't really let down an offer of free stuff. You'll be the first to admit you're greedy. Once of the biggest reasons why you gamble is because you want money- duh- and as much of it as you can get.

So soon, you're sitting at a table with this random guy, looking into his eyes, holding your drink in your hand. After barely a moment of hesitation, your curiosity finally gets to you, and you ask, "Who are you, anyway? I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere recently."

He gets a smug look on his face, which you don't like, before he says, "You really don't know?"

Your nose crinkles up in confusion, and for a second you feel ultra worried. Is this someone that I've met, that I should remember? Am I a terrible person for not knowing who this is...?

But then he says simply, "My first name is Charles. Charles Leclerc."

You stare at the taller individual, knowing you've heard that name, trying desperately to wrack your brain of it.

And then, suddenly, it hits you.

Loudly, in your head, in your friend's voice, in the exact tone she said it, 'No way- Ferrari! Have you seen Charles Leclerc?'

"Wait-!" you say in shock. You can see the satisfaction on the man's face, Charles, as you realize. "So, you're one of those F1 racers? Like, you race for the Ferrari team?"

He snorts and nods. "I'm surprised you didn't recognize me right away. Do you live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah," you say simply, taking a sip of your drink.

"So I take it you hate Formula 1, then? Because how else are you living in Vegas right now and don't know my name, or recognize my face?"

"You sound awfully prideful."

Suddenly, he smirks, and drags his finger across your jawline, pulling your face to look up at him in the process. "Maybe so. But clearly you're not so much better yourself, Miss Bet It All On Sixteen."

You cock an eyebrow at him and return his smirk with a challenging grin. "Sure, but I was right. I won what I wanted."

"Hmm... Well, what if I'm about to win what I want?"

"Oh, yeah? And what is it that you want?"

He leans in closer, so you can feel his hot breath tickle your ear as he utters simply, "You, baby."

You smirk. "We just met, buddy. I'm not that stupid."

"I think you're just playing hard to get."

"Or maybe it's just hard for you to get me," you counter.

"Well, I like your spunk. And your good luck. I think I might need a little bit more of that." He leans away a bit, and comments, "And I think I foresee a little bit more of luck in your future."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he smirks, leaning in closer. In barely any second, his lips meet yours, and though you know you should, there's no way you're pulling away now. He wraps his arm around you, urging you to lean into the kiss. You melt, letting him.

You don't know what it is.

But in this moment, you gently let your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip in between your lips, allowing yourself to, yes, make out with basically a stranger.

It wouldn't be the first time, but it also isn't something you do for fun whenever you feel.

When you finally force yourself to pull away, the first thing you breathe is, "How did you do that?"

He grins, and is clearly red in the face. But there's a look of shock on his face, too. As if his flirty cover was just confidence, and not because he gets tons of girls like this...?

Or maybe you're just reading too much into his expression.

Either way, he responds with, stroking your cheek, "No idea. Maybe I just have a way with you?"

You roll your eyes as you check your purse. No, he didn't pickpocket. He meant to kiss you. You stand up and say simply, "Well, I better get going n-"

"Sorry, what?" he suddenly snatches your arm back, pulling you back down to sit again with a surprised chuckle. "You just met a famous millionaire race car driver who bought you a drink after you won big money in roulette, let him make out with you, loved it, and now you're just going to casually walk off?"

You grin. "What? Do you think I was impressed by you? Think again, honey. Just because you drive cars fast and make ridiculous amounts of stupid money for it, and that you're insanely handsome- none of that means I'm any more impressed with you than I am with any other guys I meet on my night outs."

"Hm," he raises an eyebrow, and says, "What if you could get more from me, missy? Clearly, you're out for yourself and will do anything for a good deal. And you're f*cking sexy about it, too. So what if I had something else to offer you?"

You let yourself sit down at this, looking at him expectantly.

He smirks, clearly loving that he's 'won you over,' before saying simply, "Would like a free pass to the whole weekend, and a pass for the paddock?"

Your eyebrows scrunch together, and your eyes widen. "I- what?"

His smirk grows even bigger. "You heard me."

You inhale sharply, but cross your arms across your chest and come out sharply saying, "Unfortunately for you, I couldn't care less about Formula 1. In fact, I'm starting to dislike it a lot. But thanks for the offer."

His jaw drops, and his eyes practically pops out of his head, which gets a chuckle from you. For a moment, he's actually speechless, before he finally gets out, "Are you aware of the offer you just refused?"

You raise an eyebrow, not able to keep the cheeky grin off your face. "Probably not, but that's okay. Why, anyways, would you give a stranger such an opportunity in the first place? You probably have ulterior motives, and I think I can pretty much guess what they are, mister. You don't even know my name yet."

"Oh, God, you're right," he laughs, taking another sip of his drink. "Well, what's your name, princess?"

You roll your eyes, and tell him.

He grins. "It's been wonderful meeting you." He digs in the pocket of his light blue jeans, and pulls out a pen and a restaurant receipt. "I know you think you'll be able to forget me so easily, princess," he starts, scribbling something on the receipt, "but trust me- you'll be wanting this." He takes your hand and presses the receipt into it, before standing up just like that, and saying with a wave as he turns to walk off, "I'll talk to you later, angel."

You look down at the receipt to see a phone number scribbled on it in chicken scratch. But the numbers are clear. And though you walk out that night rolling your eyes at this Charles's boldness and cockiness, with an abundance of money you've earned that's a lot more worth the stupid grease-stained receipt, the moment you get back to your apartment, the first thing you intend to is putting that stupid number into your phone.

"This is stupid," you comment as you slide into the backseat, next to Charles.

He just rolls his eyes. "You won't be saying that by the end of this experience. Besides, you were the one who decided to text me, like I said you would. You were just playing hard to get."

You scoff. "Oh, shut up."

"You look lovely, by the way," he comments in a lower voice. "I like that skirt." You look down at yourself. You're wearing a matching crop top shirt and short skirt, your sunglasses holding your hair back away from your face, and brown sandals.

"Thanks," you snort, crossing your arms and looking out the window, turning your gaze away from the Monégasque driver. (Yes, you did, despite yourself, look him up last night, just to know who the heck this guy even is.)

(You also were sure to look up his salary.)

(Ridiculous.)

(But also intriguing.)

Soon enough, before you know it, you're walking alongside him, about to enter the 'paddock.'

Makes it sound like a bunch of horses racing.

But when you're there, surrounded by it, in the moment, you don't think rude comments like that.

You stop, taking in the high life atmosphere. The revving car noises, the lights of The Strip on the 'racetrack,' the crowds, the music, the richness, and the challenge.

Your breathing falters, and your heart beat quickens as your hand involuntarily finds Charles's wrist and grips it as you gasp, "It's... extraordinary."

You glance to Charles's face to see him softly grinning. His hand slips down to hold yours as he comments, "You seemed like the type of girl to love it."

Your smile widens. "I've been here so many times. On The Strip. But... it's not the same. How did they do it?"

He begins walking, pulling you along by your hand as you look around. "That's just Formula 1 for you. There's nothing in the world quite like it, Y/n."

He leads you by the hand toward the Ferrari garage. Once you're there, he says, "Want to meet my teammate, Carlos?"

"Don't know who Carlos is, but sure..." you say vaguely, taking in the large piece of machinery- the Formula 1 car- in front of you.

He chuckles. "You're f*cking adorable," he murmurs, before leading you away to see Carlos.

He's a well-built man with fluffy dark hair, tan skin, big brown cow eyes, and stubble. Pretty much looks like exactly how you'd imagine a Formula 1 driver to look.

He nods respectfully. "Hey, Charles," he says, and shakes your hand with a friendly wink. "This your new girlfriend?"

You look up to see Charles smirk. "Not yet."

One of Carlos's thick, dark eyebrows cocks up, and the suggestion of an amused smirk travels on his lips for a second. "Ah, I see."

"Charles!" you snap, your eyebrows scrunches together. "Not ever."

"Well, we'll see about that. So far, I've been the right one, now, princess, haven't I?"

"Pfft. I was right about sixteen, wasn't I?"

He rolls his eyes as Carlos says with a chuckle, "Well, it will sure be interesting to see how this plays out," before moving on with his life.

Charles takes the time to show you around, and halfway through the tour, you blurt suddenly, "So, this is all the Italian team and stuff. Isn't there an American team?"

"Hmmm," Charles snorts as his eyebrows travel farther up and he fights off a seemingly somewhat mocking smirk. "There is."

"Why don't you show me them? Don't they have an American driver? Like, Carlos is Italian, right? Isn't it protocol or somethin'? Anyway, isn't it called Williams, the American team, or something? Some guy named Logan something that's an American racer on there-"

At this, Charles can't seem to hold it together anymore, and doubles over laughing, essentially, at you.

"What?!" you demand indignantly.

"You really are clueless!"

"I-"

"Alright, alright, Y/n. Haas is the American team. They don't have an American driver- German and Danish. No, Carlos is not Italian; he's from Spain. Williams is British, and yes, Logan Sargeant races for Williams, and he is American. About the only thing you got right."

You roll your eyes with a shrug. "I told you I don't give a damn about this stupid sport."

"Whatever you say, Miss Starry Eyes."

So, first Charles takes you to Haas, where you learn, surprisingly, that not all the racers are young hotshots like Charles and Carlos at least seem to be. They're friendly enough there, but really don't care much to give you any of their time, so then Charles suggests to go to the Williams garage and see if there's Logan to bother. You agree to that, so soon, you're entering Williams.

As soon as you see Logan, you know he's the American. You can see it in his stance. You can see it in his golden blond slightly sweeped hair, gray blue eyes, and strong jawline. "That's Logan, isn't it?"

"How'd you know?"

You shrug, breaking off from Charles to Logan. "Hey! You're the only American 'round here?!" you ask with a friendly grin.

"Huh?" he asks, looking up, in the most United States of America way. "Oh, hi," he says in what you perceive as dumbly, with a friendly smile. Ah, that's more like it. None of these posh Monacan boys and hot Spanish men- this guy is just like home sweet home!

You can practically hear the eagles cawing over the Rocky Mountains!

"You're Logan Sargeant?"

He nods. "I am. And you are...?"

"Just some Vegas girl dragged here by Charles."

"Ah... so you know him?"

"Well, now, unfortunately, yes."

His eyebrows furrow, but he chuckles at the same time. Though this guy isn't nearly as handsome or charming as Charles, there's something about him you like a bit more-

Suddenly, a hand is on your waist, and hot breath says in your ear, "Got to be getting back to Ferrari now. Come on with me?"

You blush and nod. "Right, Charles."

You have no idea what to think of him.

"Podium?! Uh- is a podium good?!" you ask, eyes wide as Charles brings it home in second.

"Yeah, yeah, it's good!" some guy you don't know wearing red near you says.

"Oh- Alright, well- That's good, I suppose!" you respond a little manically.

As soon as Charles as the chance, he finds you. He still has champagne on his race suit and his face is glistening with sweat, and there's no way you can deny it- he's sexy. When he reaches you, he wraps his arms around you, and his stunning eyes seem to burn into you. He can't fight the grin off his face as he says lowly, "Get why my lucky number is sixteen, baby girl?"

"Ah, stop with that," you snap, your voice cracking. You don't know, but this seems- all this seems-

Way too important.

You reach up to touch the number sixteen on his hat, before taking it off his head and slipping it on your own, backwards, on impulse.

He grins. "You can keep it. Not like you'll need a keepsake. You won't forget me."

You bite your lip, giving a quick nod, still studying his handsome face. Your eyes linger on his light pink lips, which arch into a perfect cupid's bow, as you murmur absently, "You seem pretty confident about that, huh?"

"Of course I do. Looks like you might be my little good luck charm, hm? Can't be letting you run away from me, can I?"

"Hm. Well, we'll see about that."

"Still playing hard to get?"

"Not playing. I just am hard to get."

"Whatever you say, darling," he comments with a shrug, walking off.

The French accent is pretty sexy.

Your eyes flutter open, and the first thing you see are the big earnest eyes of Charles Leclerc, staring back into your eyes. "Morning sunsh-"

Your immediate reaction is to scream and promptly slap him across his pretty face.

He grunts as his hand flies to his cheek to cover it up, and he says, "Hey, hey, calm down!"

But your eyes scan the room. It's clearly a hotel room. There's only one bed: the one you and Charles are laying in right at this moment. You're wearing a large black T-shirt and big blue gym shorts very tightly tied to fit your waist. Charles is dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans with a white T-shirt underneath, his regular jewelry, and white sneakers. So clearly, he's already showered and gotten dressed. He smells like his rich cologne, and his hair is all washed and fluffy and clean. If you weren't in a slight panic right now, you'd have wondered if you could touch his hair and feel how soft it is.

But!

As you're about to gasp out questions, Charles sits up and gently sets his hand on top of yours. You become aware of the pounding in your head as you bite your lip nervously. Charles looks at you earnestly, and says calmly, "Hey, you don't have to worry. It's okay."

"What happened?" you exhale.

"Nothing," he soothes. "We went out. You got more drunk than any of us though you should. I didn't know where you lived, so I took you to my hotel room. Gave you clothes to change into, and we went to sleep. Nothing more."

You swallow an anxious lump in your throat. "How do I know I can trust you? Please, just be honest with me. I won't be mad. You didn't know any bet-"

"I didn't do anything. We didn't do anything. Okay?" he leans in closer, and reaches to cup your cheeks in his hands. "'Kay? Can you just trust me?"

You bite your lip, but slowly nod. "I suppose that's the only thing I can do."

Over six months later, you stand on the boat, staring out at the Mediterranean Sea, smelling the salty breeze in the air, feeling content, wearing a loose button down, light blue jean shorts with a brown belt, your slew of bracelets, white sneakers, and a headband holding back your hair.

Suddenly, Charles is up next to you. "Hey, princess." For months, you've had what you stubbornly call a 'situationship,' whilst Charles calls you his girlfriend.

Because you love Vegas more than you love Charles (or at least that's what you like to say), you refused to leave when Charles did. You like taking risks. Just not the 'travelling halfway across the world for a hot guy' kind of risks.

But you stayed in touch. Charles made sure of that.

Well, he meant it when he said he'd make sure you'll never forget him.

But then Formula 1 came back to the States, to Miami, and you knew you'd have to make the trip. The flirty comments and romantic tension thick enough to cut ensued as soon as you and Charles set eyes upon each other, like as if it hadn't been six months or so since you'd last seen each other last.

It just felt like-

Somehow fate is involved.

Well, when Charles invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, that was an offer you felt you couldn't let down.

And, boy, was that the best descision of your life.

To see Charles win his home race like that, and to be there? Just thinking about it now gives you goosebumps. Charles had wrapped his arms around you after the race, his eyes a little damp, and you felt something more.

Like he really cared.

If you didn't know better, you'd say it was like he really loved.

Loved you.

But, no. Of course not. That can't be.

Can it?

Well, all night you partied. You were in on the fun. You also made sure to pay a visit to the Monte Carlo casino, as you obviously must.

You had amazing luck, once again.

On this thought, as you feel Charles approaching from behind you, you comment into the wind, "You know, I'm starting to think you're my lucky charm, honey."

He chuckles, coming up next to you. "Oh, yeah? That's what I said six months ago when I first met you, you know. I've been starting to think the same thing about you."

You snort. "Maybe so, Monaco race winner."

He smirks, and you can feel the pure joy radiating off him. He slips his hand into yours as he murmurs, "I was so lucky to meet you."

I smirk. "I am pretty awesome."

He rolls his eyes, but squeezes your hand. "So, do you like it here in Monaco?"

You nod vigorously. "Gosh, Charles, it's amazing."

"Better than Vegas?"

"Well- I don't know if anything is better than Vegas..."

He leans in closer and speaks lower. "Well, would Monaco be better if your good luck charm just so happens to reside here?"

"Hm..." you smirk, flushing a bit. "I'd have to think about that, prince."

"Yeah," he nod, his tone softer. "Why don't you."

There's some silence, as you watch the sun begin to set, reflecting off the sparkling water.

Charles leans even closer to you, his hands gliding around your waist, pulling you towards him. He leans down, gazing deeply into your eyes. Then that stupid flirty grin appears on his face again. "F*cking gorgeous you are, one in a million. I struck lucky with you. My lucky strike."

He closes the distance between you, his soft lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. The heat of his body against yours sends shivers down your spine, igniting a spark between you as your tongues dance together in a sensual embrace. Connected.

Maybe it's not fate.

But it is most certainly luck.

And in this moment, with the lips of the winner of Monaco sucking on yours, you feel like the one who struck it lucky.

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sweetadonisbutbetter · 6 months

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Omi gosh I fell for your Adam post instantly!

What about him after getting trapped in hell or something, he gets to meet a sweet fallen angel??

Like, she was so concerned because she knew how bad it felt to be damned to hell and falling from grace so she did her best to make him feel better!

(They're both unaware that they'll be smitten with eachother in the future and would have matching wedding rings)

hhh fallen adam and fallen reader tearing my hair out (lovingly) this is the inspo for adams look! EDIT: I GOT THE ARTIST!!!! ARTIST IS SCOUT_ISH IN TWT!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH HUNTERS-TRASHBLOG FOR TELLING ME!!!! also reader will be slightly thicker/implied to be chubby!! but other than that, everything is kept ambigous so you can imagine yourself!! adam 4 the chubbies teehee

Bewitched | Adam x Fem! Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: None!

Adam grimaced as he looked at himself through a broken piece of mirror. Long gone was the golden halo, now replaced with horns that mimicked his exorcist horns. His handsome face was no longer human, now looking like his mask. When he first arrived, he thought it was one, and tried with all his might to remove it, his face being a different color than his maroon body. The realization that this was his body now dawned upon him in the moments afterward. He turned to look at his back, knowing that under his shirt were stubs, stubs where his once golden wings were. Instead of wings, he had a tail, similar in color to the rest of his body. Overall, Adam hated his new look.

He knew that no matter how much he looked at himself or avoided his gaze, he would still look the same. The truth of his reality that he kept running from, he was the very thing that he hated, he hunted, he killed. He was now a sinner. Fallen from grace, no longer in favor of the heavens. Truly left with no hope of ever being in God's good graces. This was the harshest truth Adam had ever faced, and it hurt more than his fall and even more than his wives leaving him. He didn’t know how to comprehend it at first, all his death, which was far longer than his life, he had only ever known Heaven.

He didn’t know what to do with his afterlife now. Not to say he was put together in Heaven, but after his divorce from Eve things never really improved; But now that he was in the same place as the people he saw below him? That fact alone wasn’t making things better. His first few days in Hell were spent with him licking his wounds, and gathering his thoughts. Adam couldn’t keep to himself forever, returning to the same alleyway that he was calling his temporary home. But where would he go? He knew he wouldn’t survive this place, especially if the sinners found out he was the one who led the exterminations. Which led him to the one place he had been avoiding since his fall.

The Hazbin Hotel.

He couldn’t return after he was the reason why the place was destroyed and why they no longer had a friend. But nowhere else was safe enough for him to run to. He was snapped out of his thoughts at a can being kicked. He turned to the sound and saw you.

Adam felt his breath catch as his heart stopped. The mere sight of you made it seem like he was back at heaven gate, that warm feeling of the sun against his skin as angels sang him his welcome. You glowed in a place that seemed to thrive on the depravity and sin of humans. Your natural hair framed your face in a way that he felt that if there was a halo, you would be otherworldly. You were full in all the right places, with the tummy to show it was real. You were dressed pretty modestly, which was odd in a place of debauchery, but not too much to seem like a prude. Your eyes were warm, with golden specks in them, almost as if you were from heaven. Once Adam realized that he was ogling a sinner, he snapped back and tried to glare at you.

“What do you want?” He snarls. He sees that you flinch back, and at that moment he begins to soften but keeps his tone. You look him over, and no matter what he tells himself, he knows that you aren’t doing it to be judgy. You have this look of concern on your face as you take in his form. He scoots back away from you, unsure why you are staring at him as you are.

“How long ago did you fall?” You ask, catching him off guard. Questions begin to swirl in his mind as he looks at you dumbly. How did you know he was from heaven? Did you see the battle? Did you know who he was? How did you know he fell? Thoughts swirling in his head, Adam couldn’t even ask you all of them. “Ah, it must have just happened. Sorry, didn’t mean to scratch at a new wound.”

“How did you know?” was all Adam could ask. You give him a small smile before you turn. With you back to Adam, he takes a brief moment to look at your ass before looking at what you were showing him. It was a pair of wings, with some stubs under your main pair. Adam’s breath hitches as he sees that the stubs are healed as if they had been that way for years. Knowing that he got his answer, you turn back around and give him a sad smile. Now new questions form in his head, starting with what you asked him. “How long ago did you fall?”

“Hm…A long time ago.” You say, shifting slightly as your wings retract. Adam nods as he takes in that he wouldn’t be the second-ever angel to fall. It made him feel less alone and relieved that he didn’t have to relate to Lucifer on something. You clear your throat causing him to look at you. “You don’t seem to have a place to stay…looking at the sight of this…alleyway. I could take you somewhere.”

You reach out your hand for him to take, which he does. You lead him somewhere as you both make idle chatter. Throughout the walk, Adam couldn’t scratch the feeling that he knew you. This strange feeling of deja vu washed over him as he tried to realize where he knew you from.

Unbeknownst to him, you knew exactly who he was. He was the first man and the first ever to enter heaven. You never got to meet him, having fallen by the time of his death for covering for Lillith and Lucifer. A part of you felt guilty, having hidden the first-ever affair. However, you wouldn’t trade it for the chance to stay in Heaven, knowing that you would get your niece Charlie. Not hiding the fact that it still haunted you, you saw this opportunity as a way to amends for hiding the betrayal. As you led him to the Hotel, you couldn’t think of how you would one day tell him how you knew him, however, you decided to focus on getting back on his feet.

You talked about how hell is, not aware of Adam behind you slowing down. You felt his hand leaving your own, look behind you, and see him with this look you cannot describe. He was looking down at your hand and then his own. You walk towards him and wave your hand in front of him, causing him to lift his head to look at yours.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, concerned. He doesn’t say anything as he nods.

“Yeah…sorry. Thought I saw something. You were saying?” He says, shaking his head and grabbing your hand. You flush and turn away, before continuing to talk and lead him to the Hotel.

What Adam had sworn he had seen was the formation of a little red string going pure white before disappearing.

In the OG writing reader was going to be in lvoe with adam alr but it didn't make sense so i scrapped it teehee

#hazbin hotel x reader #Hazbin Hotel Adam x reader #adam x reader #☾adoniswrites #anon ask #anon request

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