#at this rate I think I'll be 30 and still //writing// it - so I'll take that in the spirit it was intended ;)

[dreamingofep]

Sinned Awakening pt. 30 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, mentions of killing, ANGST, mentions of blood/ gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7k

A/N: 😮‍💨 Well, we're almost to the end! One last chapter for these two. My heart is so attached to these two, I'll never not love this story🥺 I hope you enjoy this part too! It was a monster to write and hope it was well worth the wait!🩸

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story. 🩸

You didn’t leave the bedroom for the rest of the night. Raphael didn’t bother you thankfully and you focused on calming yourself down. You took a long bath and you couldn’t help but stare at your scars. They were blistering and gruesome. You run your fingertips along them, feeling each bump and groove. You wish they would go away already.

Your heart couldn’t help but ache for Elvis. You didn’t even get to say goodbye. That human part of you felt sorry for him and how he hasn’t had it easy in his life. And now, it got even harder for him with you leaving him suddenly. You had to stay strong and not go back to him. That pain in your heart only grew when you thought of him. Like something was ripped out of you when you decided to leave Elvis. 

The longer you sat here, the longer you felt the pain. If you took your mind off of it, it was less excruciating but it still lingered. You didn’t understand why there was this phantom pain inside. You’ve never heard of anything like this and you wondered if Raphael would know what would cause such a feeling. 

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon the next day did you decided to emerge from your bedroom. Raphael was downstairs at the dining room table, reading a newspaper with a smug look on his face and sipping out of a coffee mug. He hears you walk in and smiles at you.

“Hi sweetheart, how are we doing today?” He asks, gesturing to sit next to him. 

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, not liking the pet name. It felt gross coming from him. 

“You must be starved, let me get you something to drink.” He says with a snap of his fingers. One of his housekeepers scrambles to his side with a cup in her hand. She exposes her wrist to him and holds it out in front of her. 

You exchange a nervous glance at her and look back at Raphael. 

“Did you want to drink from her or did you want to have it in a cup?” He asks deviously. 

You were nervous. The idea of biting another human to feed scared you and you weren't sure how to do that without hurting her. 

“Just in the cup is fine,” you say softly. 

“Fine, as you wish,” he says grabbing her wrist quickly. His fangs descend and he bites her on the inside of her wrist. She gasps out in pain, trying to stay as quiet as possible. 

He takes his fangs out and holds her wrist over the cup, letting her blood seep out into it. The smell of her blood was appeasing and you watched as every drop fell into the cup. It dawns on you that you really were hungry but were too busy to focus on such matters. He licks at her wound and hands you the cup. 

“That’ll be all, you can go,” he directs the housekeeper. 

She holds her wrist as she walks away to the other side of the house. 

You look inside the mug and inhale the delicious scent. 

You glance over at Raphael watching you intently. 

“Go ahead, drink,” he tells you.  

You raise the cup to your lips and drink slowly. The taste of her blood was satisfying. Your fangs descended the more you drank and your thirst began to rise. You gulp at the last few drops in it and lick your lips at the last remnants of blood. 

You look back at Raphael and he watches you, inspecting your face closely. 

“Was that good enough for you darling?” He asks. 

You stay quiet and nod your head. There was so much awkward tension in the room you didn’t exactly know what to do or say. This was the same man who abducted you and tried to turn you. He needed to earn your trust. It wasn’t going to be easy. He quickly finishes what’s in his cup and sets it down. 

“We can have some more later. Don’t want you starving,” he chuckles. “I’m happy you’re here. You are just what I needed in my life,” he tells you. “We should go out, just the two of us.” His eyes trail down your body, taking his sweet time then darting his focus back to your face. 

Everything about his gaze makes you feel on edge. Not in a good way. You wanted to flee but it wasn’t time yet. You didn’t want to get on his bad side. 

“Why don’t we throw a party? I’ve always loved parties. And in a house like this? It would be absolutely amazing,” you relish in the idea. 

He contemplates the idea a bit, “That could be lovely. I could have some people come in a decorate,” he adds. “Who do you want to invite?” 

“No one in particular. There’s already a lot of us in this house. Just have everyone take the night off, and celebrate your new life,” you try to encourage. 

He grins and nods his head in agreement, “I think they would love that. And so would I. How are you so,” he pauses to find the right word, “virtuous.”

“No, no. I am just trying to be kind. A thank you for letting me stay here while I figure out things,” you tell him. 

“Wonderful. I’ll have people start working on this. I’m sure they were busy planning our other venture,” he snickers. You don’t know what he’s referencing and look at him a bit confused. 

“What was the other venture?” You ask carefully. 

“We planned to go to Elvis, attack him, and deal with our unfinished business, then figure out what to do with you,” he says coldly. “But we don’t need to do that anymore. You’re here now. He doesn’t love you.”

Rip. Another tear. 

You both sit there in uncomfortable silence, not exactly sure what to say to all that. He was going to try and attack Elvis. Very soon it seems. Maybe you saved him in a way with how you decided to leave. Maybe he can have a happy life still. Even if that meant you weren’t in his life. 

You watch as Raphael adjusts his silk scarf around his neck and you see the scarring on it. It had gruesome black and red scars. It looked like it was sloppily stitched up and not healing well. 

You reach out to move his scarf up higher, inspecting the wound further. 

“How did they… how did they fix you?” You ask gently. You move his scarf back gently to where it was and wait for his response patiently. 

“It wasn’t easy,” he chuckles amused, “it took a lot of people to save me and a lot of blood. That bastard cut my head right off. But he doesn’t know how to finish the job.” He grumbles. 

“They did some surgery, trying to piece me back together. Then they had IVs of blood in me, trying to revitalize me. It took a while but it finally worked. Do you know what brought me back though? What made me the strongest?” He asks slyly. 

“No, I don’t,” you say softly. 

“You, you brought me back,” he grins. 

“I don’t understand,” you say a bit confused. 

“That night I bit you and caused more trouble than you should have, you bled a lot. I’m shocked you survived it all. The floor was covered in your blood. That sweet, decadent blood of yours. One of my men gathered some of it off the floor and fed it to me. That’s what made me feel the strongest,” he explains. 

A chill runs through you and you feel your heart gallop. You don’t say anything, not sure how to respond to something like that. It terrified you that you were the one who brought him back after all of that. 

“Oh, I see.” You squeak out nervously.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for me, I’ve never felt better now. I just need more blood than normal. I need to stay strong,” he explains.

You lower your gaze and try not to get too nervous. He looked at you with a hunger in his eye. You knew what he was going to ask and it scared you. You were at this exact seat when he asked you to let him feed from you. You weren’t sure if it would hurt as much as it did last time but you didn’t want to find out.

He gently grabs your wrist and inspects the scar on it. His thumb rubs it and you want to recoil from him, too afraid he’s going to inflict more pain on you.

“Can I feed from you again?” He asks darkly. Your heart flutters uncontrollably, not wanting to give in to him.

No, no, no, your brain screams.

“I- umm, I don’t want to be in pain,” you say weakly.

“It shouldn’t hurt anymore, you’re a vampire. Elvis never fed from you once you were turned?” He asks confused.

Your brain scrambles to remember if Elvis wanted to feed from you. Everything was so murky. All you can remember is his hungry eyes when he looked at you. You assumed he wanted to feed from you but never asked.

“Oh, no, he never did. He never asked, not once I was turned,” you explain.

“Hmm… that’s a shame, honey, He has no idea what he’s missing out on,” he says slyly. “So… may I take a bite?” He asks again.

Fear paralyzes you and you can’t move. Your eyes pleaded for him to show you mercy but you can tell he isn’t paying attention to you. He has one focus and it's to have your blood.

“Please be gentle,” you say weakly.

He pulls your wrist closer to his mouth and sinks his teeth into you. It wasn’t as painful as you last remembered but it was still uncomfortable. You assumed it was because he was biting directly on the scar he left behind. He contently drinks your blood, breathing in slowly, taking in your scent with each swallow. 

The longer he had his fangs in you, the more your body felt sick. Like it was rejecting him being this close to you. You start to panic a little with this feeling starting to overwhelm you. You push his head away from you and grab your wrist away from him.

“Stop, you’re hurting me,” you cry.

He looks at you wide-eyed, not exactly sure what you’re talking about. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks at you trembling there.

“Hmm, strange… you taste very different. I wonder why that is…” he trails off.

You stand up quickly, needing to get away from him. “Can I please be excused,” you say abruptly. 

“Yes, that’s fine. I have to go and take care of some things at the club anyway. Are you going to stay here or do you want to come with me?” He asks shortly.

You nod your head no and keep holding your wrist. 

“No that’s alright, I’ll stay here,” you tell him with a weak smile. He buys it as a genuine gesture and smiles at you too. 

“I’ll see you later if things don’t get too busy,” he says before walking away. 

You look over at the clock on the wall and see it is almost three. You didn’t have the faintest idea how long he’d be at the club so you had to wait and see when he’d come back. 

Before leaving the dining room, your eye sees the headline of today’s newspaper Raphael was reading. 

Elvis Surprise Concert at Sahara Tahoe Hotel

Something about it makes your heart sink. He didn’t care you were gone. He wasn’t looking for you. He just went back to his usual concert routine. You wished you could explain to him how you felt, and give yourself some closure. As much as you knew you needed to be here, everything inside of you was calling out to be with Elvis. You don’t exactly understand why the pull is so strong to him but it always was. From your first day on the job, you were unnaturally attracted to him, wanting all of his attention on you and only you. 

You try to snap yourself out of the fairytale. It's not going to happen. You can’t be with Elvis anymore. You have to let that part of your life go and start a new one.

*

Raphael stayed out later and left you in this huge house by yourself. You didn’t confine yourself to your bedroom like last night, you wanted to see what else this house has in it. 

There has to be at least fifteen bedrooms which you found a bit comical for a vampire to have since you don’t sleep. Each bedroom had a different theme. Not one looked alike and you found it very odd. You remembered the room you stayed in last time. You don’t go in there, too many bad memories were in that bedroom. 

As you keep walking through the house, you stumble upon a study. It made you stop in your tracks because there were books from floor to ceiling. You found it incredible. You tread quietly into the room. It shouldn’t be a problem if you were in there, the door was left wide open. 

You start scanning through each shelf, finding the classics and ones you’ve never heard of. This was heaven to you. Books have always been your favorite escape. But with how busy your life had gotten, you didn’t have much time to read or go to a bookstore looking for something new to read. 

Now your life looked very different and you never slept, making you restless with your wandering thoughts. You walk in further into the room and pause at the large oak desk. There were newspaper clippings spread out all over the desk, all with very random stories from different newspaper organizations. You sift through the clipping and realize they all have one thing in common. 

Elvis. 

Each and every article talked about something Elvis did. A record he broke or some gossip that was spreading about him with some girl. Raphael saved every mention of him like he was gathering evidence for his crimes. All of this made you feel so uneasy. He hated Elvis on an unprecedented scale so much that he was archiving every last thing he did. Whether it was good or bad, Raphael kept those clippings. Your stomach drops when you see another article on the table. 

It was a picture of you and Elvis leaving the courthouse after getting married. There in red ink, he crossed out both of your faces in the picture and wrote ‘mine’ next to your face. You quickly cover up the photo with other clippings and back away from the desk. You shouldn’t be here, Raphael cannot be trusted. He wanted to sabotage everything you had. 

But you try to think logically for a second, trying to calm yourself down. If that’s how Raphael felt about you now, he wouldn’t have let you stay in his house right? This newspaper article was from weeks ago when you two first got married. A lot had changed in the next few weeks following that day. You barely remember Elvis biting you, and then everything else in between was a blur until you got here. Maybe since Raphael found out that Elvis’ feelings toward you have changed, he feels different about you too? That the hatred he had for Elvis dissipated since you no longer associated yourself with him? That’s the scenario you were hoping for. If not, you were going to have a bigger issue on your hands. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” a male’s voice suddenly says by the doorway. You snap your head in that direction and freeze. 

Daniel stares at you with cold, dark eyes. He was the last person you wanted to see. Especially after what he did to you that horrific night. 

“What do you want,” you hiss. 

He takes slow, heavy steps walking into the room, looking at you with a curiosity. 

“Is it true? Did Elvis turn you?” He says coldly. 

“Yes, he did,” you say shortly. 

“And where is he now?” He chuckles. 

Your patience was running thin. You were not expecting to see him ever again. He looked gaunt and sickly, worse than the last time you saw him. His eyes were this deep red color and the veins underneath his eyes were prominent. 

“I don’t know. I left him. It’s better that way,” you tell him. 

“Such a shame. I was really hoping you both would make it. Since you were ‘Chosen’ and everything,” he jests.

Another stab to the heart. 

You were so sure you and Elvis were meant for each other. It felt like you were dying when you thought about the happy life you could have had with him. You both were so sure that you were meant for each other. 

You press your lips together and try not to lash out at him. That’s what he wants, a reaction from you. 

“Sometimes things don’t work out,” you snap. He takes another step closer to you, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks at your face. 

“What happened to you? You look so… different. Your whole energy is different than before,” he says. 

You don’t understand what he’s getting at and don’t want to be in his presence any longer. 

“Just stay away from me,” you say walking out. 

“I’m surprised Raphael is even allowing you to stay here. Especially after Elvis tried to kill him and you stabbed him in the neck,” he says snarkily. 

“Yeah and it seems Elvis missed giving you a piece of his mind when he was here last,” you snap. 

He chuckles to himself and ignores your spiteful words. 

“I’d be careful if I were you. You get on Raphael’s bad side, that’s it for you,” he tells you. 

“Yes I know, I saw the newspaper with my picture surrounded by red ink,” you hiss.

“I guess he’s throwing a party for you too? What did you have to do to get on his good side so soon? Oh wait, I forgot, you like to be on your back,” he snickers. 

You snap and lunge at him, going directly for his throat. Your hand wraps around his neck and you throw him to the ground. Your fangs descend and an immense amount of anger flows out of you. 

“Say that one more time! I fucking dare you!” You hiss in his face. His eyes are blown wide, terrified by your presence. He gasps for air and claws at your wrist. 

“Y-you-… your eyes-,” he gasps. 

You don’t understand what he’s talking about and want him out of your sight now. 

“If you ever think of saying such things to me again, I will have no problem ending you,” you growl. 

You let go of him and back away, the anger radiating off of you in waves. He scrambles to get up and rubs his neck where there is a red imprint of your hand. There is real fear in his eyes when he looks at you. For the first time, you feel like you have the upper hand in a situation with vampires. Maybe you are stronger than you realize…

You smirk at him, trembling like a child when he looks at you. 

“Get out of my face,” you hiss. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He quickly rushes out and you can hear him run down the stairs. 

You couldn’t be in this room anymore and needed to be alone. You quickly rush to the other side of the house and lock the bedroom door. God, Daniel got under your skin more than you thought. He’s turned into more of a heartless idiot than before. Becoming a vampire has only made him a lonely, hollow shell of a man. It was such a low comment he made and it pissed you off he had the gall to make it in the first place. 

The comment he made about your eyes was strange to you. The fear he had when he looked at you… you’ve never seen anyone give you a look like that. You walk over to the bathroom and just about jump out of your skin when you see your eyes in the mirror. 

Bright golden eyes stare back at you. 

They were brilliant and captivating. There was a glow to you when your eyes were like this. Soft and effortless. But if you were upset like you just were, you could see how they could look terrifying. Like you were on fire from within. 

*

You didn’t leave the bedroom for the rest of the night. You couldn’t stand the idea of running into Daniel again. It still ticked you off that he could be so awful to you. You watched the sun come up through the curtains and let the light come into the room. You didn’t care how it stung your skin, you just wanted to see how the sun rays shone so beautifully in the room. A distraction. Anything to keep you from thinking about Elvis or Daniel or Raphael or any other man who has brought an unlimited amount of sorrow into your life.

Evening fell and there was a lot of commotion downstairs. Probably people coming in to decorate and set up for the party. You were not in the mood for a party anymore. With more solidifying evidence, you didn’t want to be around Raphael knowing he thought about killing you not too long ago. The idea of being near Daniel again might just make you snap into a fit of rage making it ugly for everyone near. 

A quiet knock at the door snaps you out of your dark thoughts. You go to answer the door and one of his men is standing there with boxes in his hand. He doesn’t look at you, he has his head bowed and with white boxes out in from of him. The boxes were wrapped with red bows with a smaller one on top of the longer box underneath. 

“The party starts in two hours. Raphael wants you to wear something nice,” he says handing you the boxes. He leaves without saying anything else to you. 

You close the door again and set the boxes on the bed. You unfurl the intricate bows and open them to see what’s inside. The large box had a black, satin dress with a low v-neck cut. There was lace trim on the bottom as well as the v-neck trim. The smaller box was a pair of black heels much too tall for your liking. 

This party was a bad idea. Everything about it made you feel on edge. The least you could do was show up though. You didn’t need to stay down there all night. 

You get ready slowly, finding some makeup in the bathroom and a curling iron in the bathroom drawers. You didn’t plan on wowing anyone, you just wanted to feel a bit normal. 

As more time went on, the house was starting to become more lively. The hum of people from downstairs was ringing in your ears and you tried to block it out. It was so hard to focus and down out the noise. Before you get dressed, you glance at your golden eyes again. A bit of panic sets in. You don’t want Raphael to see them like this. You don’t know what the slightest thing could tick him off. 

You do everything in your power to make them go back to your normal eye color. You close your eyes, breathing deeply and focusing on how you want them to look. It was so hard to do with how loud the house was and how your nerves were getting the best of you. 

Opening your eyes again, you glance at yourself in the mirror and thankfully see your normal, human-like eye color. You let out a sigh of relief. One less question to be asked if Daniel decided to tell him about what he saw. 

You go to put your dress on, some sheer thigh-high stockings, followed by the heels and you take a look at yourself in the full-length mirror. Your reflection makes you freeze. The dress was scandalous and revealing. The v cut freely showed your bite marks so openly. The one on your neck and the other one on your breast. You hated to see your skin like this. The dress was simple with its form-fitting design at your torso and more loose and flowy starting at your hips and working its way down to your ankles. You put your hair on the left side of your neck, hoping to conceal most of the scars. 

You look over at the clock and know you need to get downstairs sooner rather than later. You know Raphael will send someone up here to come and get you. The amount of voices you heard downstairs made you incredibly nervous. You assumed they were mostly vampires… dangerous ones most likely…

You go to the bed and lift the mattress, uncovering the dagger you hid there. You feel like you should have this tonight, just to be safe. Being in a house full of vampires that you don’t know could be perilous. The new information you found out about Raphael’s previous intentions with you also made you nervous. You were scared he was going to snap back to that type of thinking. You lift up your dress on your left side and place the dagger in the elastic of your stocking. The wood burned your skin a bit but you had to suck it up for a while. You couldn’t be unprotected here. 

You summon up the courage to head downstairs. Clinging to the handrail, you hope to God you don’t fall down the stairs walking in these heels. You stand on the first landing of the stairs, thankful you’ve almost made it, then look up becoming paralyzed with fear. 

Dozens of people had their eyes on you and the entire house becomes as silent as a tomb. Every single person’s eyes were red when they looked at you. Starving and dying. 

You couldn't be here much longer. The longer you stayed, the more Raphael would just use you for his enjoyment. 

“Why don’t you come down here darling,” Raphael’s voice booms over the sea of people. 

You tread carefully, taking each step carefully, and look at these terrifying vampires. They start to part the crowd for you, making a clear path for you to walk in. The click of your heels is the only sound that you can hear. Everyone is standing perfectly still, watching your every move. You almost reach the living room when you stop again. 

Raphael was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, feeding off a girl that was sitting on his lap. She was struggling in pain, clinging onto him for dear life. His eyes flash up at you, red and dangerous. He takes his teeth out of her and pulls her off of him. One of the men next to him grabs her and takes her away. 

Raphael motions for you to come closer. Everything inside you told you to keep your distance, but his terrifying eyes are making you do the opposite. 

You stand in front of him as he looks at you, inspecting every last detail of your outfit. 

“Just stunning,” he mumbles. He stands up from the chair and slyly smiles. 

“Why don’t you show everyone the whole dress though,” he taunts. You don’t understand what he’s talking about as he brushes back your hair off your chest and shoulder. You instantly shudder, watching how he looks at your gruesome scars. He quickly turns you around to the sea of people behind you. 

You hear a few gasps and watch how most of the people look away from you. You wanted to die right here and now. You understand now why he chose this dress for you; it was to put you on display. To show everyone what he had done to you. 

“What is wrong with her?”

“Why does she look like that?”

“Disgusting.”

All these murmuring voices were blaring like sirens in your ears. You shrug Raphael’s hands off of you and turn back around. 

“I am not going to stand here and be gawked at,” you snap. 

“Oh, please they’re not that bad,” he huffs.

“Do you forget I can hear every single word they’re saying!” you say raising your voice a bit. 

“Don’t be upset. You’re being ridiculous,” he sighs. 

You grumble quietly to yourself and quickly get away from him before smacking him in the face. You make a beeline for the back door and need to breathe. Being in that house made you have cabin fever and a breath of fresh air is exactly what you needed. 

You go out the back door and are taken aback by how beautiful the backyard is. There were so many flowers and rose bushes spanning acres. It looked like a botanical garden rather than a backyard. Dark red roses were everywhere and their scent filled your senses. It was intoxicating. 

You go deeper into the garden, finding a bench through the arches of ivy. The air was so quiet, just the sound of the wind ruffling the leaves. You could barely hear the roar of the party inside. You see Raphael coming toward you, taking his time to get to you. 

He sits on the bench next to you, not saying anything right away. You cover your neck and chest with your hair again, not wanting another unwanted gaze. 

“You look so beautiful,” he says low. 

You don’t react, not wanting his praise. 

“Why won’t you look at me?!” He snaps, grabbing your face in his hand. 

“Because I have nothing to say to you! Not when you treat me like some prize!” You scowl. 

“Was this to make me look like a fool?! Invite all these people to show me off like a circus animal?” You hiss. 

“No, not exactly. I threw a party like you said you wanted!” He says shortly. 

“And you had to dress me like this? To show me off like this??” You say through your teeth, motioning to your exposed scars. 

He stays silent and gets up, putting his hands on his hips as he walks a few feet away. 

“Tell me something. Were you this difficult when you were with Elvis?” He grumbles. 

“Yep. Sure was,” you spat. 

“Well, that won’t work with me. So you better fix your attitude before I make you,” he growls. Too much anger flooded your senses to care about his threat. For the first time being here, you weren’t scared of him. You had a feeling you had the upper hand here. 

He continues, “I heard you had a little run-in with Daniel yesterday?” He says. 

“Yeah, you can call it that,” you say annoyed. 

He hums to himself, gathering his thoughts, “he said you pinned him to the ground and… that your eyes… your eyes were golden?” He says accusingly. “Is that true?”

You scoff at him, “No of course not. I don’t know what he was saying. You really should teach him to feed properly or he might not be able to function much longer,” you snicker. 

“I’ve never heard of anyone’s eyes turning that color… that’s something out of legends…” he says quietly. 

“Daniel is a damn liar and you know that, so I don’t know why you are believing anything he’s saying,” you snap. 

He doesn’t say anything, just inspects you like a two-headed animal. You can feel where his focus is. He won’t stop looking at the scars he made. You feel disgusted and want him to stop. 

“Why did you bite me like this? What gave you the right?” You scowl.

He chuckles to himself and shakes his head. 

“Because I could.” He says shortly. 

“No, what was the reason! I want to hear it come from your mouth,” you hiss. 

“Because I wanted to take you away from Elvis. I didn’t want him to have you. And I knew if he saw my bite on your body, he would absolutely hate it and not want you anymore,” he says coldly. 

“You’re fucking cruel. Why would do something like that to him! Most importantly, me? Elvis never did anything to you,” you say weakly. 

“He is ungrateful! I gave him the best gift on this planet and he never once thanked me for it! I sent him a letter once he got back to the States and he never bothered to contact me. I had to watch him cause havoc everywhere he went. Making a spectacle of himself all because he’s Elvis Presley.”

“And then he comes into my city, causing chaos every time he’s here. Drinking the blood banks dry and not being considerate of the rest of us. When I turned him, I didn’t expect him to come back to the States and still be so popular. And each year that passes, he only gets more attention and more popular. It had to stop. As I suspected, he got lonely and depressed being on top all of the time with no one to love. No one could satisfy him. ”

He turns around to face you again, anger creeping in his eyes, “then you came around. You ruined it all. You made him whole again.”

He sits back down next to you, grabbing your shoulders, “What did he see in you?” He says, compelling you for the truth. 

You wanted to resist him, he didn’t deserve to hear any of it but you can’t hold back from speaking the truth. 

“I-I- I don’t know. I don’t know what he saw. I truly don’t know what it was,” you try to get out. 

“I don’t believe you,” he growls, “what did you do to make him look at you differently?” He compels. 

“Nothing! I don’t do anything to him. It was just-,” You stop in your tracks. You couldn’t get it out. The words you wanted to say shouldn’t be muttered. 

“Tell me!” he snaps. 

You feel tears well in your eyes, anger and frustration fuel you and you can’t even look at him. The power he has over you is willing you to tell him the truth whether you want to or not. 

“I wanted him! I was so attracted to him the first time I saw him! I couldn’t denounce the attraction. We were like two magnets. We couldn’t help it. It was a force of nature pulling us together. It was something bigger than us that made us be together,” you confess. 

He looks at you disgusted and gets up once again, turning your back to you. 

“Unbelievable…” he sighs.

You tremble with anger, your breathing ragged and shallow when you look at Raphael. 

Your ears faintly hear some commotion happen inside the house. Loud footsteps were stomping throughout the house like people were running away from something. You look back at Raphael and he doesn’t seem to pay attention to any of it. He’s too distracted with you. 

With his back turned, you scrunch up your dress on your left side, slowly pulling the dagger out from your stocking. Holding it behind your back, you wait for the right moment. 

You try to draw him near again, “So you bit me like this for revenge?! You had to do it so viciously!? Why not just kill me? You could have saved yourself all this trouble!” You yell standing up, gripping onto the dagger tighter. You conceal it in the material of your dress, making it unseen to him. 

He turns back to look at you, a dark look clouding his eyes as he goes to stand closer to you. “That would be too easy. I wanted to leave my mark on you for life. No human or vampire would want you with those scars,” he snickers, pulling you in by the neck, “except me. You’re mine. I will never let you go,” he growls. 

His fangs are inches away from your face and you start to boil over with anger. 

You push at his chest as hard as you can, making him falter. “You damned me,” you say through your teeth. “You ruined my life. You took Elvis away from me! That man loved me I know it! My heart aches for him still! It feels like I'm dying when I think of him!” You scream in his face. 

He freezes and backs up a bit to look at you. Horror washes over his face and he looks more pale than before. 

“Your-, oh my God your eyes,” he stutters. You could feel how they shifted, how the golden hue was burning into his dead eyes. “You were right… you both were Chosen for one another… That's why you taste so different...”

Elvis.

Oh God, you needed him. 

Your heart felt so weak without him

You didn’t care if he didn’t love you. You just wanted to be next to him.

To look at those beautiful eyes.

To tell him you wanted him again.

The pull to be with Elvis was excruciating, you couldn’t stand to be around Raphael another second. 

“You took away the other half of my soul! How fucking dare you!” You scream. 

He pauses suddenly, smirking at you and chuckling to himself softly. 

“Hmm, is it true? That you both were connected? You feel each other's pain, and if you die, he does too?” He asks darkly. 

You freeze, you don’t know the answer to that and you sure as hell don’t want to find out. 

“I-I don’t know…” you tremble.

“Well, I’m going to find out.” He growls. 

He smirks and grabs you suddenly, holding a fist full of your hair, and exposes your neck to him. You yell out in pain as you feel his teeth sink into your flesh. He was vicious and cruel with how he was biting you. How he dragged his teeth along your neck, raking his sharp fangs down before he fully bites down. 

He greedily drank your blood, holding you as close as he could to try to restrain you. Your mind is terrified of what will happen if he doesn’t stop. It’s time. You have to end this right here and now. You claw at his bicep and muster all the strength you have to move out of his grasp.

You take the dagger and plunge it into his back, piercing it through his heart. He groans in agony, staring at you wide-eyed. You let go of the handle and look down to see the tip of the dagger coming out of his chest, inches away from yours. 

He gasps for breath, “No… no… what have you done,” he cries.

“Finishing what I started,” you growl.

“You�� you fucking bitch,” he wheezes, “you’re done.”

He groans loudly and puts his hands on your arms, pulling you in swiftly and piercing the rest of the dagger into the right side of your ribs. You let out a scream, the wood burning like a hot branding iron. You gasp for breath too as you feel blood start to trickle out of you. 

You put your hand back on the dagger’s handle and pull it out of you both with a grunt. You both fall to the ground, groaning in agony. You roll to your side, clutching your wounded ribs. Your fingertips graze the wound and you cry out. You haven’t felt such pain before. It only grew with every little movement you made. Each breath felt agonizing too. Each one was harder to do and you started to cough up blood.

Shit. This isn’t good. He stabbed my lung…

You look over to see Raphael wallowing on the floor, clutching to his chest.

“Y/n!” A voice calls out for you. A dark shadow comes running to you. Your vision is blurry and each blink only makes it worse. The shadow finally gets close to you and your nose picks up his scent.

Oh, you could have recognized that beautiful scent anywhere.

Elvis, your love.

He lays you down on your back, fear encapsulating his eyes as he looks over your trembling body.

“Baby, oh baby. Please, look at me,” he cries. You look into those beautiful eyes, the ones that can make you melt without even trying.

“Elvis,” you whimper, clutching onto his arm.

Raphael groans loudly and grabs at Elvis’ ankle tightly, the sound of his bone-crunching underneath his grasp. Elvis hisses and breaks free from his grasp. He pins Raphael back to the ground and punches him in the face. 

“Did you think you were going to win? Did you think she was yours?!” Elvis growls in his face.

All Raphael could do was groan and gasp for breath. He puts his hand around Elvis’ throat and starts to squeeze it tightly. Elvis grunts in frustration and tries to break free. Raphael was still a lot stronger than he anticipated. 

You had to finish this, you had to help Elvis end this all.

You cry out in pain and summon all the strength you have left, holding onto the dagger tightly and weakly standing up. Your feet stumble each step and you struggle for breath. You get right next to Raphael and kneel down, lifting the dagger and plunging it into his heart. He cries out in pain, letting go of Elvis, and coughs up blood.

You drag the dagger downwards, cutting out his heart with the only strength you had left. Your head throbs with pain and you can’t hold onto the dagger anymore. Elvis takes the dagger from you and finishes the job. Your body gives out, too weak to even kneel here. You collapse on the ground, unable to hold on any longer.

You feel Elvis hold your body in his arms, trembling as he looks over your weak state.

“No, no honey, please. You’re okay, it's going to be okay,” he says panicked, caressing your face tenderly.

You try to speak but it hurts so much, that each breath becomes harder to do. You just clutch onto his arms tighter, needing to keep yourself tied to him. Your eyes look up to the sky and see a blanket of stars. Being so far away from the city, they lit up the night sky so vividly. They shone so bright and twinkled each time you blinked. You wished you could dance among them, fly as high as you can, and dance around them. You’d take Elvis with you, of course, you couldn’t imagine going anywhere without him. You needed him forever.

“Baby,” Elvis says frantically, snapping you out of your daydream. You look back at him, his cheeks full of tears rolling down them.

“Honey I need to bite you. I need to heal you,” he trembles.

Oh, does he love me enough to save me? Oh…

You nod yes and roll your head to the side to expose your neck. You can feel his hands shake when he glides them up your body and places one on the back of your head and one underneath your back. He pulls you in close, placing a kiss on your neck before taking a bite. You gasp out, the pain of the bite all too much. He clutches onto your body tight, trying to soothe you through this. You can’t keep your eyes open very much, all you can hear is Elvis’ content sighs as he drinks your blood.

He drinks from you for some time but then that’s when you feel it; his venom entering your bloodstream. You groan in agony, feeling it burn like wildfire inside you. He finally takes his fangs out of you, gasping for breath. Your eyes flutter to try to look at him.

“Honey, h-honey, I-I-I need you to bite me now. Come on you can do it,” he encourages. His voice was beyond scared, it was terrified. You don’t respond to his plea, you are too weak to move or even try to have your fangs descend. Your breathing felt shallow and your body trembled. You open your eyes to see Elvis again. That beautiful face looked down on you. You will never forget that perfect face for as long as you live. Or maybe even beyond that.

He lightly shakes you, pleading for you to respond to him.

“Baby, please,” he cries, “I need you. I need you so much. I can’t lose you.” He begs.

He bites the inside of his wrist and brings it to your mouth.

“Drink honey,” he pleads.

His scent hits you like a freight train and a frenzy forms inside you. Your hunger grows and lick at his wrist. The most heavenly taste coats your tongue and you swallow it contently. You want more and bite at his wrist, sucking more of his blood. Your strength began to rise, and the pain from the bites were slowly going away. 

You take your mouth off his wrist and groan, your head pounding away.

“Oh honey, you did so good. You’re going to be okay. You’re okay,” he reassures over and over.

He kisses your forehead, holding you to his chest. You felt warm, comforted, and safe. A sharp pain spreads through your neck and makes you gasp. You curl your body into a ball and try to get closer to him. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. You see twinkling stars behind your eyelids, making you feel weightless. Pure joy and peace are felt when you see these stars and feel the warmth of Elvis’ body against yours. 

You let the stars dance around you, taking your pain away, and feel nothing.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

[james-stark-the-writer]

well, i figure it's best to just get it out of the way so we can all move on faster from this phase (hah) and waiting will just make me dread going into it even more. now seated for Loki S02.

i really don't know what to say or think about this one. i really did not like the first season of Loki. like outside of What If? S01, Loki is the lowest rated show from phase 4 for me, and it's just so terribly written. Michael Waldron is not a person whose work i enjoy. he was also responsible for ruining the script for Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, yeah, he wrote that one too. even if the ideas were great (they were the opposite of that), I just don't enjoy his minute-to-minute dialogue, and it all is just so lacking in personality and is so incurious about the world around itself. he is just not a person whose work i enjoy. so i am extremely cautiously going into this expecting i'm going to want to pull my hair out and probably be bald by the end, but you all know i'll give it as a fair a shot as possible.

i did cheat a little just to set my expectations and better know what i was getting into, and i know Michael did not personally write any episodes this season, unlike last season where he wrote two episodes. i presume he was still showrunner but he himself does not have any writing or story credits from a quick glance at Wikipedia so. maybe this season will be less annoying than the first one. here's to hoping. i assume the abuser will be in this just because of the ending tag of Quantumania, but beyond that, i really don't know what to expect from this. i guess I'll be happy to see more of Owen Wilson?

i still don't like this new Loki because i think his arc for S01 was shit and if they expect me to believe that showing him a 30-second clip of the original Loki's memories suddenly makes him go on the same character arc in five minutes that the other Loki — a master of illusions btw — took over a decade to go through, they have lost their fucking minds. i'm going to try to ignore that for this season bc it's irrelevant for evaluating this season because it would have been burdened with it one way or another, but it's still really fucking stupid and i hate S01 so much.

we'll do this in the same format as Secret Invasion just because i don't want to be here for 5 years commenting on everything and taking 3 times as long to finish the episodes, so i will check back in with you all after S02E01. let's get into it.

[pedrotonin]

LOST IN THOUGHT - PART 3

Or: Thanks to Joel Miller.

[part 1] [part 2]

Summary: you tugged his hair again and then messed everything up. You think.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x Female reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mild sexual tension.

A/N: and that's a wrap. Sorry no smut, but writing a RPF...it just made me uncomfortable. I guess I'll just have to start writing a character based one soon 😉 oh and look at this gif. Rawr.

10 minutes pass. 20 minutes pass. Still no sign of Pedro.

After 30 minutes you start wondering if he'll come back at all. Maybe he told his stylist what had happened. Heat creeps up your face, maybe it's for the best. It seems you're not in control of yourself when he's around.

Suddenly you hear him clear his throat to get your attention. You slowly turn towards him.

He stands in the doorway, not meeting your eyes, wearing a new white button up and the sweater from before. One hand on the back of his neck, the other in his pocket.

"Look, I'm sorry," you begin, "I'll just pack my things and-"

He cuts you off.

"Don't."

He looks at you now. No smile this time, his expression serious.

"I would like for you to stay," he takes a deep breath. "Please."

You nod, can not find the right words. Taking a step to your right you make room for him to sit down.

He hesitates for just a second, but then he takes off his glasses and takes a seat.

Nothing happened after that. You styled his hair without any tugging -or accidents- and he had to leave right after you finished.

A few weeks go by. You allow yourself a peek on Pedro Pascal fanaccount. Watch 'The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent' again for the umpteenth time. You even allow yourself to read a real smutty Joel Miller fanfiction.

At night your thoughts drift to Pedro. You have dreams of pulling his curls, hard.

The next day, you finally get a call. A last-minute request, so you're currently on your way to meet them at some fancy hotel.

After parking your car and swinging your backpack over your shoulders, you walk into the hotel lobby and spot Pedro talking animatedly to one of the receptionists. Raising his hand in a way of greeting when he sees you.

He's wearing his purple Lakers shirt and it makes you smile. Slowly making your way over, you see he allowes the receptionist to take a selfie with him before he turns towards you.

"Hi, so glad you could make it on such short notice."

He gently puts his hand on your lower back and guides you to the nearby elevator, pushing a button. He tells you he just finished an interview and they requested a photoshoot.

He gestures you into a room and you begin to unpack your bag while Pedro changes into a deep red polo shirt. He sits down and tells you what he wants this time. Slicked back. You reach for a comb but he stops you, placing his hand on top of yours.

"Listen. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of creep. I just seem to particularly enjoy it when you...touch my hair. I hope it's not a problem."

He removes his hand.

Did he just sort of confess to you he liked it when you pulled his hair? A strange warmth spreads through your body. He looks at you, waiting for an answer.

"It's not," you reassure him.

He smiles and it emboldens you.

"Next time, I'll tug a little harder."

His beautiful rich laugh fills to room.

"Please do".

-----

Months have past and the two of you are sitting on his couch. He sneaks his arm around you and moves his face to your neck, breathing you in.

"Look at us. I am so glad you could not control yourself around me... and my hair," he whispers.

You elbow him in the side, making him laugh. Straddling him, you pull his hair, yanking his head back. He moans as his arms wrap around your back.

Silently, you thank yourself for your lack of self-control as well.

And for Joel Miller fanfiction.

[thisisbugsy]

Darwin’s Theory

Summary: In an attempt to climb ranks, Crowley contracts an ex-hunter to aid in his ambition but manages to go through more than he bargained for

Word count: 9.7k

Rating: Teens and up

Warnings: descriptions of violence

Triggers: none

Characters: Crowley, Y/n, mentions of Lilith, Oc Issac

Relationships: Reader/Crowley, Crowley/OC (3rd person POV)

Tags: lemon, Mild injury, Reader-Insert

A/n: I’m thankful @crowleybigbang for letting me participate. I’ve never actively participated on tumblr before so it was a nice change. The stress I had writing this was unbelievable but as a fanatic I’d take any excuse to write about my favorites

Bars were always familiar, comforting even, but this bar was fancier than the ones Y/n grew up with. A very different crowd and a lot cleaner. She could practically see her face on every surface. The view might have been enjoyable had she not been working.

”If I looked that good I don’t think I’d stop looking either.”

Her eyes shifted to the man’s reflection before finally looking up and locking eyes. She ran her finger around the rim of her glass.

”Maybe,” He clears his throat. “It’s the design. Countertop’s made from granite. Makes it durable, won't scratch easy, hard to stain and-" His eyes search hers nervously. "I'm sorry, I just can't think of an excuse good enough to talk to someone like you."

"Well, I'll give you an opening then," She smiles, leaning forward with her hands intertwined as she jokingly whispers. “I’ve never really been here before so I only picked what I know. You could help recommend a drink.”

Immediately he nodded to the bartender, hoisting his glass. "Get her what I'm having will you?” He smiles at her. “You'll love it.”

"I usually just drink Craig," 

They turned to the new voice. The accent noticeable, rolling off the tongue smoothly, nice black suit. His entirety demanded attention. "The old stuff is really the only drink worth taking. 30 years aged at least if you want perfection."

"Your opinion, I'm sure. My recommendation is more than pleasant for a first drink."

"Yes, well, you also thought going after a woman with that wedding ring imprint still present was a good idea." He smiles at his drink amused before looking at Y/n. “I'd be hesitant to approach him for that if I was you love. Clearly just took it off for the night hoping someone like yourself would come along."

Y/n gaps at the stranger's uncalled outing. The married man, too embarrassed to come up with a defense, decided to stumble away. She didn’t make an effort to call after him, she couldn’t afford to. A whole month's worth of tracking and taking behavioral notes, all flushed down the drain just like that. The only thing working as planned was the free drink the bartender barely managed to place in front of her. Improvising wasn’t a foreign concept but nonetheless, she was willing. "Thanks for that." She started softly, glancing at him.

“No worries." He dismissed. "Doubt he would have made good company anyway."

“I guess it’s just bad luck on my part.” Resting her chin on her palm, she looked around before settling her eyes back to her drink. 

“Perhaps.” He looks at her smiling. “Nonetheless, if I’m not pushing luck of my own, I was wondering if I can buy you another round?”

It surprised her, a rather bold move scaring a man away only to move in himself. At least she was subtle about it. Then again, him showing interest first helps. She smiles, knitting her brows slightly. She admits the other man, although shady, had a good taste. She liked the evenness of the bittersweet taste on her tongue. “Thank you but I just got this drink.”

“I mean the next one is on me. If you’re willing to stick around after that mishap. Besides, I’d be more at ease if you did, it’s not really safe to drink alone. Unless of course,” His brows went up as she naturally crossed her legs, taking the bait. His eyes trailed from her heels to her eyes slowly. “You’re one of those women who can hold her own?”

“Is that such a bad thing?” She laughs lightly.

"It's dangerous," His grin widens as he hears her laugh. "A girl, better said, a girl as pretty as you, not afraid of getting herself in trouble? It's a recipe for disaster."

“What’s the point of living if you have to be afraid all the time? Looking over your shoulder like that?”

”Hardly a life at all.” He agrees.

“Are you gonna give me a name or are you just a passing stranger giving advice?” Y/n scoffs a smile. She needed a false sense of trust, a name could be just as powerful as anything. How you use it. How you say it.

“Crowley” he answered bluntly. “May I know yours?”

”Y/n” she gives her hand despite the late introduction.

”Y/n” He repeats, taking her hand in his in a more gentlemanly manner, bringing it up to his lips for a light kiss on her knuckles, never breaking his gaze. “Seems like a perfect fit.” He grins.

There was a small tightness in her stomach. She found herself forgetting her job for a second. When was the last time she actually enjoyed a guy rather than screwing him over for his money?

“Thank you, Mr.Crowley.” Then again she was barely grazing the top with this guy.

“You’re very welcome.” Dark eyes, such a deep brown looking back into hers. He admired the flush on her cheeks, though there was a chance it could have been from her drink he was far too confident to believe it.

”Tell me,” Crowley kept her hand in his. “Why is a beautiful young woman like yourself spending time in a place like this?”

“If you got a better place in mind I’m all ears” she shrugs smiling. This was exactly what she needed for a quick win. An invitation.

He laughs to himself, a small shake of the head. “I wouldn’t exactly recommend an evening with me.”

She smirked into her drink, making sure he saw her size him up before taking an aim at his ego. “Don’t tell me, no good?” She taunts playfully.

He chuckled amused. "Too good for you to handle. In fact, I assure you you'll try to come back to me afterward and I don't want to deal with that kind of nagging. I have a job to do after all. The drink was merely to show my sympathies for such a misfortune. You spend the night with me and well,” his knuckles grazed her leg. “I’d ruin you for other men.”

He smirks at the idea. “A place does come to mind but it’s a bit more….private” he whispered lowly in his throat.

”Really?” She hums amused. 

He nods. “No crowds, nothing loud or obnoxious, just the two of us with a few drinks, talking like civilized people.”

“Sounds like a good time”

“It does doesn’t it?” He stands from his seat, bringing her with him, linking her arm with his. She tilts her head. He was charming, she'd give him that much. She almost found it entertaining. "It’s a little ways from here, I hope that isn’t an issue?”

”By all means, lead the way.”

They reached the exit. The valet nodded to them as a slightly stretched car pulled up. The driver in front got off to help open the door but Crowley was closer, stopping the man. He opens it, letting her in first. The inside was just as lovely. Dark brown leather seats, and a side bar with several drinks and glasses to match. Once he got in with her she gestured to the bottle.

"Scotch?" She voiced her thoughts, remembering he mentioned it.

"Scotch Craig, old stuff. One of the only things I’d let near my lips," Crowley says, pouring her a drink. He examined his own crystal before letting his hand rest with it on his knee, smirking. “Amongst other things.”

She gives an airy laugh. Her lipstick stained the glass at contact. Crowley watches her in silence before clearing his throat. "Y’know, I can't help but wonder, are you just looking for good company or just a few good drinks to get you through the night?"

"I'm entitled to enjoy myself after a week of work, aren't I? Besides I'm a firm believer in letting faith take its course. If the right company did come along with it why not have both?"

He hums in response. "Well, that got you near a married man tonight."

"But you interfered," Y/n reminds him. ‘And the bastard didn’t have the balls to stand his ground.’ A simple comment to suggest he should mind his business was all that she was asking for to continue.

"And now you're here." He chuckled. "Tell me, are you in the right direction then?"

‘Far from it.’ She couldn't help but mentally sneer. Instead, she smiles at him. Watching his hand slide up to her knee. Placing her own drink on her holder, she pushed him into the seat gently before he could go further. Moves onto his lap as she takes the opening she was presented with. Crowley was only teasing, he didn't really expect her to respond so forward. Though he wasn't going to stop her. His hand moved to support the small of her back.

"Crowley," She trails her fingers down the lining of his jacket. "You're a businessmen aren’t you?"

"I am," He hums, taking a drink of his Scotch. "But what does that have to do with this?"

"Just curious," She says softly. "What kind of business?"

His eyes roam her figure. She was trying to find the benefit of being with him. "I...import and export goods so to speak." He manages enough to not overshare.

"Meaning?" She tries to dig.

"Meaning, I get a lot of stuff from point A," His hand moved from her back, caressing her rear to her thigh before pushing his hand up again to shift the edge of her dress higher, nearing the edge of her stockings. "And send them out to point B." He smirks, tilting his head at her. "What's the matter, darling? Don't I not look the part?"

“I was just trying to make conversation,” His eyes watched her curiously when she undid his tie, using it to pull him closer for a kiss at the corner of his lips. “Is that such a crime?”

He glanced at her lips, meeting her halfway as she took him for a proper kiss. Her fingers slowly overlap his when she takes his glass and sets it aside to one of the cup holders. She presses into him, not breaking the kiss as she uses the clink of the ice to cover the sound of the sleeping pills going in. She goes down to his neck, blocking his view of his drink. Crowley tilts his head back willingly, eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling. His hands held her thighs, a light squeeze. His fingers eventually find a garter. His brow knits briefly as he smirks.

Finding a garter in this day and age was rare, mostly just for show rather than its actual function. Any man with a working brain would know it was a way to show off her intentions. He couldn’t help but wonder if she knew that. He laughs to himself. Slipping his thumb under the band, pulling it before letting it go. A small yelp at the sudden snap escaped her lips. Almost sounded like a moan. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride, being able to get her worked up.

She encourages his hands to roam, to drink, to grope, anything that’ll keep him from noticing the lack of lip contact. As they stumbled into the hotel, laughing at every little thing. She groans when he pressed her against the wall of the elevator. Then again as they fumble into the room, he passed out almost the second his body hit the bed. 

Dropping the act immediately, Y/n took a minute to regain her breath before looking around. A low whistle as she noticed the peculiarity of the fancy room. Though nowadays she's not exactly roughing it as she did when she was a hunter, the luxury of it all still left her in awe. It was neat, with no signs of luggage. Not even in the closets and provided safe- which she made sure to double-check.

She made her way back to Crowley. Watching his slight stirs as she went through his pockets. The only thing particularly inviting was the wallet. She relocated the cash into her purse before writing the numbers from his plastics on one of the notepads the hotel provides. She ripped it then folded it into her own little notebook. She went to the bathroom to tidy up her appearance.

It did strike her as odd. Having a room but no actual belongings. Not even a small bag yet he was in a nice suit. Nothing like the ones her father used to get on a whim for a hunt. Was it just a one-day meeting thing? Even if he just needed to spend the night how far would his actual place be if he was sure he didn't need anything come morning? Why book a hotel room at all?

She pulled out a cigarette from her notebook where the pen usually should be. She curses after realizing she has no matches, going back into the bedroom for her purse only to stop at the sight of the man sitting contently against the bed frame. "What's the matter, darling?" He looked up from the purse he held in hand. "Need a light?"

’Shit.’ Two pills were supposed to be enough for him to last till morning when she was long gone.

“I'm a fan of your work. Kind of primitive for a hunter’s daughter wouldn’t you say?”

Her jaw tightened at his casual remark. The situation was a lot more complicated than she thought.

“Then again most hunters are primitive. I admit seeing your work up close and personal,” He shook his head with a light laugh. “What a show. Don’t think Daddy would be so pleased if he heard what you were up to these days.”

"What are you." She questioned immediately.

"You know in the pit of that hunter’s gut of yours exactly what I am."

"Export and import business huh?" She scoffs. Y/n looks him over. A more sour attitude than when they first met. She didn't have much room to fight. Her holy water and salt were stashed in her purse which troubling enough was out of reach. There wasn't a real proper way to deal with demons exactly. At least from the basics, she's learned growing up.

The whole point of leaving that life was to not feel so tense all the time. And now she was in the presence of a creature who could get rid of her so easily. Yet she couldn't help but continue talking. "Do you have any idea how much work I actually put into these kinds of things? Weeks. I only went for you because you scared off my guy!"

"Ouch." Crowley chuckles.

"What do you want?"

"That, my dear, is the million-dollar question isn't it?" He leaned his back against the bed frame. Crossing his legs as he looks at her thoughtfully. "I have a proposal."

"A proposal?" What the hell did she have or did he think she had for him to come looking for her?

Did her dad do something?

"As a crossroads demon-"

"A crossroads demon?" She scoffs a laugh. It wasn't that she’d considered them any less dangerous than a regular demon but they did like to talk a lot more. Almost exactly like a salesman you want out of your house. Then again she's never heard of one appearing anywhere aside from an actual crossroad. "I admit I've done a few stupid things before but I've never actually been that stupid."

”There’s a first for everything darling.” He smirks. “Course I’m not here for that kind of arrangement, what I want is more of a partnership of sorts. See in my line of business, its traditions are,” he shrugged as he looked around the room. “For a lack of better words, outdated. The world is always changing so why don’t we change with it? Brings efficiency, sales go up, everyone’s happy.”

”Except for the poor bastards in the deal.” Y/n scoffs.

He immediately waged his finger to correct her. ”Willingly, with consent. We just lay out the deal and our terms it’s not our fault if they don’t read the fine print. I assure you nine times out of ten it’s of their own free will and most likely done some level of idiocy to deserve such a faith.”

”Loopholes” she rolled her eyes. “You know the tricky little things you can get away with because of your charming talks with the desperate.”

”Point is, There are faster better ways to go about it. That’s where you come in love.” He smirks.

“Not much I can do with a soul y’know, at least with what I do I get enough money to keep me stable.”

”Is that what you want? Stability? Or actual comfort? It’s a very simple concept darling. Course I could charm a poor bastard to do my bidding but I think it would be much more beneficial not to mention entertaining to have someone already skilled in manipulating people to do the work for me.” Crowley smiles at the thought. “I find myself enamored with your little scheme, conning men. You’re quick on your feet and from what I’ve seen ways before our official meeting, know exactly how to pull on a man’s heartstrings. Willam Evans comes to mind, poor bastard ready to pull a ring,”

”Why do you think I left?” She huffs amused. “The long way is fun, I get showered with gifts and attention but I’d need to do more than just talk. Something I’m not really willing to do unless I find the guy up to my standards. Staying like that too long makes an ‘attachment’ on his end not to mention makes my face more recognizable. The last thing I need on my ass asides from monsters and hunters- is a man trying to give me a ring.”

"Nonetheless there's no doubt in your potential. You can go from conning a few well-off men to more important Powerful pursuits, men of great influence. With a bit more time and practice of course to perfect such an art. And if you’re good enough- powerful women.”

”So I should be flattered knowing you think I can play both sides?” She couldn’t help but laugh, amused at his suggestions. “Demons are sinful, lustful creatures”

”We all have addictions that make the afterlife more entertaining.” He agrees easily. “ Either way, I can’t deny that I’m confident a bat of those eyes is enough to put them in your hand, latching on to any suggestions just to hear your voice. A siren dragging a sailor to a bottomless sea is you will.”

“I want you to continue doing what you do best, under my name of course, and in turn, I give you your own pay and desires to live as you please. Money, power,” His eyes easily drifted down her body once again. “Pleasure”

“Yeah!” She laughs “The pleasure to not deal with things like you. I got out for a reason y’know.”

”The hunter’s dream after a long tortuous battle right? And anyone in such business with a right mind would know you’re never truly out. I would think someone like you wouldn’t be blind to that assessment yes?”

Y/n decided she hated the man on the bed, Crowley. What a name. No doubt it was bound to be engraved into her after tonight. She was right from the start, he did demand attention. She wondered how long he’d been watching her, stalking her. Did he switch between bodies? At some point, she should’ve noticed the smell of sulfur right? Or was she really out of touch with her training?

She needed a drink.

“Protection.”

”Protection?” He knits his brows. “From what exactly?”

“From what? From everything that goes bump in the night. Even things like you”

It was a good request but it was definitely too tall of an offer. For some creatures sure, but there were plenty above him. Lilith, his boss, came to mind immediately. She didn’t even know he was attempting a deal like this, no one did. All he could bring himself to do was laugh a little.

Y/n smiled as she watched him. “You can’t do it can you?“

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me.”

”You said anything I want”

”Anything within reason darling.” He corrects her. “I can’t give you something that is so far from my control.”

”Shame.” She sighs before smiling. “Then I guess there’s not much to talk huh?” She gets up from her seat going to the door with her little notebook in hand. “Keep the purse if you want, don’t really need it.” It would be a pain to have everything replaced but really her notebook is all she needed.

“You can’t just leave-“ He looked at her in disbelief, finding himself moving quickly off the bed to follow her. He hated the feeling of not having the upper hand. It was another reason he’d need to climb ranks but now to think he had to play nice for a hunter? “You’re willing to throw away such a generous offer? Money and anything your heart desires, in exchange for a bit of your time and effort? You can’t be bothered to be content with such things?”

Crowley closed the door the second she tried to open it. It was clear that he was frustrated though at the moment actually hurting her wasn’t on his mind. If anything he hated the fact that she could feel that too.

”What was it you said earlier? Something about not settling for stability? I don’t know, if I’m being honest I tuned out a good chunk of your little speech. Y’know, focused on that accent of yours- highly distractive by the way”

”You should understand that I’m simply looking for the best possible interests for both of us in this deal.”

“I agree, but accepting a deal like that is like someone offering me a job that I gotta dedicate my whole life to with the idea of a promised bonus or promotion. No guarantee just a promise that can be broken or changed at any moment. You’d think a hunter like me would know better than to take a deal like that.” She opens the door, keeping her eyes on him as she goes out.

”Ex-Hunter, I hear” Crowley huffs the second he’s alone.

It was difficult, being as talented and charming as Crowley and still having to deal with something as ridiculous as a rejection. Clearly, the deal needed some time to play out in her head. Another thing that was frustrating was sharing his views. Demons were practically born with a defiant streak so chances of getting one, a decent one, to listen were low.

”Right, so this Y/n,” Isaac starts slowly as they walk down the park’s sidewalk. “L/n, I know a hunter with that don’t I? Name’s familiar.”

”Daddy dearest, yes” Crowley hums.

”Ah,” he nods. He didn’t know he had a daughter or kids in general. It was an interesting turn of events for a solo hunter. It was common for hunters to raise their kids in this life, on the off chance that they do live long enough to produce. “You’re right, I do think this is ridiculous. C’mon Crowley? A hunter?” 

”Ex-hunter” he corrects. "Now a con artist. Interesting switch in careers if you ask me."

”Still, you bring her to the party and everyone will be falling over themselves to rip out a piece” Issac shakes his head with a smile. “Hell, Lilith herself might take action and keep her as a plaything, maybe even eat her, literally”

”I just need a while to prove this is efficient. I swear it’s a crime to be creative. You'd think Hell of all places would encourage unnatural changes."

”Right. Except it's also full of demons who take pleasure in torture, especially a lone hunter-"

"Ex-hunter," Crowley corrects again.

"Even on the off chance that it actually works and no one bothers her, who's to say she won't turn on you? Please tell me you at least-“

"Under contract, of course, I'm not an idiot." Crowley looks around. The park was a lovely place for a walk, completely quiet and abandoned the second the sun got low. The lamplights guiding their way.

"No, of course, I’m sure you offered something tempting. Money? A dead relative?” Issac scoff lightly. Remembering the deals he’s made with humans before. All so completely obsessed and desperate. It was sad to watch but the power he felt over them was addictive.

”Not entirely, I  mean I did but she…..wants an immunity of sorts, from monsters, a peaceful life. All she has to do is sway people to me.”

"Immunity huh,” Issac smiled amused at the idea. "A hunter with no morals?"

"No" Crowley sighs, looking at the sky for a moment, the frustration visible in his tone. “They’re very much there. She just wants the proper motivation for the betrayal to at least be worth the effort. I doubt any hunter would blame her for such a deal if immunity was in the cards. Hate her, sure but not blame.”

”So not only do you not have proof of this idea of yours working the girl isn’t even on your side yet?” Issac laughs. “Ain’t that a tall order, nice little dame you gotta butter up first-“

”She’s perfect” he insisted. “You should’ve seen her work up close, her manipulation tactics. Just enough to draw you in and make it seem like it’s your idea. I can’t remember the last time a woman got me worked up so quickly”

”Pretty is she?” Issac loved the idea, the older L/n had been a pain in his side for a good while. Bothering his work, trying to save his clients. The idea of a daughter just…

”The amount of men that have fallen for her schemes, you’d think she was one of us. Tempting little thing,”

“Or just pretty enough, lust is rather powerful y’know, for someone to just flaunt it.” He shrugs. Lust could so easily pair with other sins, sins that build easily in the human mind. Since the first downfall, it’s what built everything they know today. Sure none of them knew they’d be basically stuck in a job for eternity, fighting for scraps and acknowledgment, the whole ordeal was…..well, hell.

Crowley was a tad more ambitious than most, though it was unclear if it was because of the useless life he lived before or the enjoyment that came with the power of his status. Higher status, more power. Promotions and whatnot like any other business. Issac’s been around a fair amount of years, he was younger than him, managed to make a higher rank. This business was no different than that when he was alive. To think someone wanted to climb so high so easily- it bothered him that he didn’t think of the idea himself but why her?

”Why are you telling me all this anyway? You have a plan, seems like you’re dead set that it would work. Clearly something you can take on your own no?”

“I just wanted your opinion on the matter, believe it or not, I value your input, Issac. Besides,” Crowley sighs, looking around the park before looking back at him. “I'm not stupid enough to believe I can do this alone. Even demons have their limits.” Honestly, he got excited and needed someone to dump his thoughts. Enough to hear his idea out loud.

”Well you said your fish ain’t on a hook yet right? Got an idea for a next approach?”

“As fun as the push and pull has been I thought it was about time I pushed boundaries. Mold her into the perfect ideal temptation for any idiot within a mile away from her. She wants freedom I’ll promise freedom.”

”And Lilith? Your position? Any human would get reckless the second they know they can’t get hurt.”

”I’ll figure something out, what I do know is that I need to get her attention first.”

“She’s a con artist, right? Not to mention a woman, if I were you I’d get her something shiny.”

“Something shiny?” Crowley chuckles at the simplicity of the idea. "Something simple to match the idea then? A Dimond necklace perhaps? Silver setting, elegant but not too much to catch attention. If that fails I'd have to look into other options."

"Mock all you want Crowley but temptation is temptation. You're trying to get her to look over her nature as a hunter, ignore her morals for people's lives." He took out his cigarette, lighting it. A few puffs before he continued. "Immunity from monsters is a blessing. More so if you manage to convince Lilith but still, the necklace is just a showing. Not only can you give her freedom but keep the comfort you offered the first time around.”

"It’s all about presentation," Crowley nods in understanding. "The necklace is a mere taste of the power and influence I hold. Let her know there are luxurious awaiting, She'll have it made if she works for me."

“At least then she wouldn’t have to take up side jobs that would take her from your intended goal right?” Issac shook his head as he took another drag. Processing the idea to get to Crowley's understanding of things. “A human workin' for a demon."

Of Course, considering the last encounter she chose a location far from the last. There were an abundance of ways to play the game. If anything she’d rather her target approach her instead. Then again it depended on the kind of person they were and who she had to be to get them to notice her the way she wanted to be noticed.

So she sat there, this time playing the part of the stood-up date. Probably in his 20s but absolutely loaded with Dad’s credit card with how loosely she’s seen him spend it all day. Leading her to sit in a high-end restaurant this time instead of a bar. She’d send a few small glances at him before taking her time to pretend she was looking for someone. It was going well enough, at least well enough for him to turn his full body toward her direction as he subtly talked to his companions.

Unfortunately, her luck didn’t last enough, the man turned around suddenly with a weird look on his face. At the same time, she felt a shift in her booth’s seat.

”Is this seat taken?”

She took a breath, not wanting to cause a scene she smiled, looking him over briefly. "What are you doing here?"

"I saw a lovely lady sitting alone, pouting and my heart couldn't take it so I decided to come by and keep her company." He intertwined his fingers. "And well, here I am."

"I'm working" She huffs lightly.

"Working?" Crowley chuckles. "Of course, and how is that going for you?"

”I hate you”

”I’m aware.” He took in the elegance of the restaurant. Looking the way she did he knew even if that man didn't come over right away someone else would. Nonetheless, if it’s not him it’s not on the agenda. “It's quite the place you've chosen to practice your craft but I guess business isn't going quite as planned is it darling?"

She rolls her eyes.

"I apologize," the smirk playing on his lips was anything but. “If you'd like to call in early. I could always provide some..." He looks her over. "Distractions"

”You’re seriously not gonna let that go anytime soon, are you?”

”Deal or no deal Who am I to deny myself entertainment like that when the opportunity presents itself?” He laughs.

”It won’t happen again I can guarantee you that much.”

”It was only a little game, upset I outplayed you are you darling? You make it sound like I actually brought you harm. Did I threaten you? Touch you or try to harm you in any way?”

”Touch me? Yes. Harm me?” She scoffs in disbelief. Really her pride was more than hurt. She should have been able to spot him, especially being that close. There should have been signs. But it would be weird to start testing her target every single time out of paranoia. “No, but you were more than handsy in that car. I could’ve sworn we would’ve-“

”Can I remind you tried- no, you did drug me?”

“They were sleeping pills for insomnia, Crowley. Even human you would have lived.” She leans on the table. “And it wasn’t like I was gonna do anything but rob you blind.”

“And that makes it better?”

”Don't play damsel demon. Didn’t I say I’m not working for you? You’re wasting your time.”

"So you say." Amusement clear in his tone. "You're a survivor, this is surviving. Isn't that all rather....tedious?"

”You here to ramble about that deal of yours again?”

”Yes, though I do have a new offer. A rather handsome one at that. I've thought about what you said and I couldn't help but agree. You deserve freedom, to not...look over your shoulder for everything that goes bump in the night." He takes out a velvet box from the inside of his suit jacket. Placing it on the table, sliding it to her.

She glances at it before bringing it closer to her hesitantly.

“Go ahead, open it.” His smile grew as she took it out, admiring it immediately.

“Okay, I’m listening,” He gets up when he sees her move her hair to the side. Taking the diamond necklace out of her hands and setting it around her neck as it rests into her shape naturally. She could feel her nerves spiking at the proximity, her foot taping naturally but quietly. It was hard to look at him the same after the first time. Knowing what he was, how he could kill her without much effort. Demons didn’t really care if they made a mess and abandoning a vessel makes the mess someone else’s problem. She didn’t want to be a case herself.

Crowley let his hands linger on her shoulders, his thumb stroking her skin as he admired the piece. “Perfect fit.” He gently moves some of her hair further, trying to keep it from falling back enough for him to place a light kiss on her neck before continuing with a few more. She tilts her head instinctively, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Enjoying the intimacy mixing with the anxiety of the situation.

”It was made for you, don’t you think?” He whispers against her skin. She moves away, swallowing slightly.

“Show what you want, at the end of the day you’re still a demon.”

“And you’re still a hunter.” He sat back down. Taping a glass he claimed near him as a waiter passes them. They both paused as the waiter served him the champagne she selected. 

“Ex-hunter.” She corrected.

”Ex-hunter,” He echoes. “Perhaps you beautified the packaging but that doesn’t really change what you are. You wouldn’t see me any different had I changed vessels either.” 

Crowley took a sip of his glass, slightly savoring it. “It’s in your nature to be cautious as it is mine to be deceptive however, I wasn’t lying when I said I bring you no harm.”

“Course you don’t, not when you want me to be the one to lead sheep into the slaughterhouse” Knowing he needed her was the only insurance she had to rely on. Despite her stubbornness, she knew it was a matter of time before his patience ran thin. The entire idea was…she couldn’t accept a deal like this right? Under the principles she was raised with? Not after the people she’s saved from things like him. 

“I can understand the hesitation, I do.” Crowley sighs deeply. "I've run the numbers, thought of candidates and it all leads back to you darling so I'll be back again, and again if need be. The only thing you could do as of now is talk to me.”

”I'm not killing or hurting anyone for you.” She says almost immediately.

“I’m not asking you to,” Crowley shrugs.

”I won’t let anyone take me to bed if I don’t want to.” She rolls her eyes. “I mean I do stuff for this job sure. But I don’t actually go that far with any of it.”

”Shame, but not entirely unreasonable.” He looks her over.

“You said I’d get immunity from other monsters. Demons are no exceptions” At this point it sounded like she was placing her own terms and conditions.

“Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming back, yet, I’m not in the best position to grant you full immunity. At least not until I get my own boss on board with the idea,” He picks up the champagne. It was decent but not exactly the kind he’d go for given the chance.

”You said-“

”I know what I said, and I’m sure I can. There’s just a few things I have to do first before I can fully grant such a thing. Even we have people we need to answer to.”

”What like the devil?”

”She-devil more like. Hell works like an office, there are bosses, workers, and some that are just considered dispensable.” he huffs amused. “Lilith, the first demon in existence, was meant to continue his work of corruption so she created a system. It’s sales darling, if anything think of it as us doing a favor. One last big hurrah, where the most certainly already dammed can ask for anything, indulge themselves in their most craved dreams before their light’s snuffed out.”

“My soul-“

”Would be completely untouchable, we’ll add it to your little list of demands. Only as long as you’re employed under me.” He says seriously. “So?”

She looks around. People still very lively, enjoying their evenings. “I…I’ll sleep on it.”

Crowley doesn’t remember the last time a deal caused him so much frustration, let alone a human. Usually, the common go-to rule when it came to forced deals with hunters was to use someone or something they cared about as leverage, but this particular deal was important. He needed her to willingly surrender to him. It was all he could think about nowadays. Though he didn’t have the patience for it he endures, giving her a smile in response. “Of course, You do that.”

She couldn’t sleep, she didn’t even bother changing. The most effort she made getting home was taking off her heels and placing Crowley’s gift back in its box, letting it stare at her mockingly on the coffee table of her living room. It was stupid for her to even sit here and actually think about it.

Immunity?

luxuries?

The idea was greedy, selfish, and everything else a hunter should strive to stray from. Conversing with a demon of all things. Any hunter would be after her if they ever found out. What if her dad found out?

“It’s none of his business anyway,” she tells herself. Raising her beer to her lips. This wasn’t something she’d bother him with. To be honest she didn't want to see him at all.

Y/n jumps slightly, hearing something upstairs. She places the beer down carefully before bending slowly, getting a shotgun she had under the couch. It wasn’t every day that she had personal visitors, especially not with how she kept moving about. She went up the stairs carefully, trying her best to step lightly but move fast enough to not let the wood creak too much under her weight. She can hear the flicker of a lighter clicking in her room. She pokes her head in with the gun close to her. 

A man, probably in his 30s, dark blue suit, his hair slicked back neatly as he took a drag of his cigarette. He smiles immediately as he looks her over. “A L/n, as I live and breathe- well y’know, as close as I can get to it right?”

”Who are you?” She pumps the gun, a round ready.

”Easy honey, I’m a friend of Crowley’s, so to speak. Name’s Issac.” He leans against the wall. He glances at the window seal, seeing the salt lined up, only a part of it disturbed, clearly done from the inside. “I couldn’t help but notice it. I mean hunters are cautious by nature. Every nook and cranny was covered in salt except this window.” He tilts his head at her, smirking. “And in the bedroom no less. C’mon doll I knew Crowley’s been working an angle with you but I wouldn’t think he’d get you so riled up.”

Her grip on the gun tightened as she glanced at the salt. “He hasn’t.”

"Really?" He squints. "I mean from what I heard hell, from what I saw. Almost felt like I was supposed to turn away or something. It was like some ridiculous attempt at an affair."

"What is it with you demons and spying?"

"I don't know. Probably gotta do with our nature. Common excuse you hear with these folk y'know? Hunters and demons go a long way. Prey and predator. That thin line constantly being played with like some kind of schoolgirl’s jump rope. Though we still got the upper hand ya like to fight back.” He briefly frowns as he brings the cigarette back to his lips. “Always fighting back.”

“What are you going on about?”

”I just sayin’ I know my onions.”

”What?” She didn’t like him. Not like this in the temp home she managed to get her hands on in this town. Dealing with demons was unsettling in general. No matter who they were or what meat suit they decided to wear.

”I’ma be honest here with you L/n, I don’t like him. I don’t like the smirk on his stupid face or his voice, always complaining, questioning one thing after another, and you-“ Issac points. “You’ve been his latest obsession and to be honest, the second I heard your name-“

Y/n shifts as he takes his time to look her over. Her finger was ready on the trigger. She knew salt wouldn’t kill a demon but a part of her hoped it would hurt him enough. Maybe even inspire a few rounds to go off.

“Your pops,”

”What about him.” She demands quickly.

“He was quite the hunter but he really never knew how to keep that nose of his in his own business. One time he managed to trap me, left me to rot for….fuck months I think?” A laugh erupted from his throat as he shakes his head. “Can you imagine that? It’s like a rat outsmarting a cat, leaving ‘em in a small confined cage. It’s just not natural.”

”Do you have a point here?” Her jaw flexed slightly. 

“As I said, I hate him. And seeing that you are who you are, he can’t have you so I got a counteroffer. You won’t know it and I doubt Crowley would have explained it but we got our own ranks within ranks. I happen to be a higher rank than him so any ‘protection’ he offered you would be more guaranteed.”

”How do I know if you’re lying or not?”

”You don’t, but that’s half the fun isn’t it?” Issac taps his cigarette, the ash falling into the pot of a plant she had. “That bastard has been a pain since he first arrived. He's like a dog doing extra spins to see if his master gives him another treat. Tryna make himself a favorite, look Lilith I got the moon for you."

”The moon?”

“Not as impressive as it sounds, I promise you. ‘Sides I'll get my boss's favor in a snap. You just gotta play nice for me." He smirks. "And help me get rid of that demon of course. Though to find something that can actually get the job done, not the easiest thing to come by."

"You wanna get rid of Crowley?" She looks him over. “For good?”

"Yeah," Issac scoffs. "Can't have him rat me out. Even if he lets me have it he'll find a way to benefit from it. Fucking parasite."

“Have what?”

”The colt Y/n, I know you have it. Your dad took it, then placed it ‘Somewhere safe’. Took me a while but what better place than a hunter always on the move? It doesn’t stay in one area, you’re not actively in the hunter business so there’s less of a chance of a supernatural encounter. It all clicks. Now be a doll and hand it over.”

She could play dumb. She should play dumb but she had to take into consideration he might already know where. Especially since he admitted to stalking, there was no telling how long. “Over my dead body.”

“y’know,” Issac sighs. “I was absolutely baffled when he told me his idea. Getting a dame to lure in anyone willing to trade for a measly ten years of whatever the hell they ask for. I thought to myself ‘Why doesn’t this idiot just posses a nice lookin’ chick and do the same?’ I know a handful of demons who play with different meat suits to get targets.” He nods his head to her, the action sending her back into the wall, making her drop the shotgun. His lips twitched up slightly, wetting his bottom lip as he watched her try to regain the breath that was knocked out of her.

“But it wasn’t just about that. It was the fact that you were human. Selling the idea to them. But you’re a hunter, you can think on your feet. You’d most likely get recognized by other hunters which will set them at ease from suspicion faster and the cherry on top?” Issac walks over to her, watching her use the nightstand for support as she leans her side on the bed. “You’re a fucking L/n. That’s exciting, for me at least. The second I heard you were his daughter. I could hardly focus sweetheart.”

It was rather hypocritical of him to use force when he advised Crowley to do otherwise for favor. Hunters may be human but with what they do and the self-inflicted suffering they put themselves through, he couldn’t help but place them as an entirely different species of their own. He pushed her to the bed by her neck, pushing his body weight on her slightly. Her hands instinctively gripped his wrist, wanting him to let go. His own breath hitched at the sight. He loved it when they squirmed. Though the defiance on her face was clear.

“You’re gonna do it or are you gonna bitch some more?” She managed to get out despite the pain of being tossed around.

“Huh, guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? Always havin' something to say despite being completely backed into a corner. Do you know how many deals he cost me?" His grip tightens, leaning in closer. His eyes closed momentarily as the smells flooded in. She took the moment to stretch her foot out to the cup she had on the nightstand, knocking it over to spill onto his side.

Issac yells in pain, buckling down as the steam erupts from his suit. Y/n forces herself to crawl further up the bed once his grip loosens, rolling to the other side to create enough distance for her to think of something.

His groans slowly turn into laughter. "Oh you little-" Issac couldn't smell her father on her. Only a lingering emotional touch, enough to know she’s thought of him but it wasn’t enough to prove he was around. "Here's the thing. I am jealous. I know he was close but how close was Crowley to you to get his smell on you?”

Her eyes narrowed at him. She really was cornered, the shotgun was on the other side, and so was the door. All she had was a window and not enough salt to close it. Even if she could she'd be trapped in here with him unless she jumps. The second floor isn't so bad but the flowers planted below had a brick lining. Jumping on a whim before he could get to her might make for a bad landing.

He forced himself to stand, though the holy water still stained his suit. “He was real insistent on it being you. He could’ve gotten any greedy chick willing to jump at the deal but loyalty is something you can’t always buy. The second there’s a higher bidder she’d up and leave. And you won’t say yes, you won’t give me the gun so what the fuck?”

This was just a talk, she realized. This was his idea of talking. Throwing her around like a rag doll because he was jealous, strangling her because he remembered her father. If this was just a talk what was she supposed to expect further down the line with him?

“Plus there’s also your old man right?” Issac smirks as her look changes. “There you are. Y’know I can find him again easily, make sure he’s red and blue for you before I take my time to really send him off. Or we can make a deal.”

On one hand, she was glad to hear he was alive, despite his ways. “You say that like I care. Haven’t been on the best of terms since…ever? It was a great try though. A for effort.”

What was better? Being in the hands of a demon or death?

"So, in conclusion, Fuck you." She decides.

He huffs, raising his brows in surprise. He nods accepting her answer as he smiles to himself.

"Okay," he shrugs. A wave of his hand sent her through the window, the glass breaking from the impact. He sighs as he walks over. Eyes trailing over the new injuries she gained, her body arched over the plants. 

"What a world."

Everyone hates an errand run. There wasn't much to do but wait for a small delivery to be made. Lilith, being stuck in Hell, made her reliant on the demons that were out of the gates. Being a woman of deals herself she preferred to use crossroads demons. Though the irony of sending them together to run it didn't fly over their heads. Sharing subtle glances as Crowley made small talk. 

Feeling bored as the time passes Issac moves, looking at the abandoned cars around them, tools scattered, and Graffiti at almost every turn. No doubt proof of the warehouse's new use as someone's hang-out spot.

Eventually, a set of other demons came with a chest, setting it down and leaving it to them to complete their part.

"Finally," Crowley sighs, looking over the chest curiously. "What do you think it is, needing it so badly even if she's not up here to get it herself?"

"It's none of our business is what it is. We're not opening it." Issac said bluntly.

"Never said we would, I just figured if we're gonna wait for something that long we'd be granted a small note of information or something."

"You ever heard of the colt Crowley?" He asked out of the blue. "Nasty little peashooter that can shut down almost any creature a hunter could possibly deal with."

"I thought that was a nice fairytale hunters liked to go on about when things get desperate." Crowley grabs onto one handle of the chest as Issac picks up the other. Taking the chest to a giant symbol written off in blood on the floor. An entire ritual set up. Both being well versed and educated in more complex magical situations they needed to be the ones to do it.

Crowley never really like doing work like this but better for Lilith than another demon. Crowley had his fair share of bottom-feeding in his past life and he wasn't willing to take it in this one.

"What's the point of creating a gun that only had a handful of rounds? Clearly, he had the intention to use it for one troubling thing. Even if the gun was around there'd hardly be enough bullets for a hunter to make proper use of it in a world crawling with creatures."

"Maybe it was more so meant for us. Y’know to be haunted by the idea that hunters would have something to go against things like us or hell, bigger if there even is such a thing." Issac grunts as they put it down. The candles around them light up automatically. They immediately stopped, moving to their positions. Holding their hands up mid-chest, muttering the needed words. The chest burned up in flames leaving nothing but a scorch mark behind. “How’s your hunter situation?”

”Silent. Though I’m sure there’ll be an answer soon.”

”Yeah?” Issac smiles a bit too contently for Crowley’s liking. “Diamond necklace wasn’t it? I’m telling ya, girls love jewelry. Course, hunters' such as Y/n have an adequate taste y’know?” He pulls out the Colt. It didn’t take long for him to find it in her house. Placing it under floorboards was a commendable choice but the bedroom was typical. He watched as Crowley shifted in place, more serious though a frown clear on his features. Issac couldn’t decide whether to shoot him in his smart mouth or his heart. The irony of shooting a demon’s ‘heart’ would only provide him a laugh rather than actual satisfaction.

“Seems like I struck a nerve.” Crowley hums at the sight. “Colt, I’m guessing?”

”No shit.” Issac pulled the trigger.

It was nothing like he thought it would be. There was a loud bang but Crowley only stumbled slightly from the impact. There was no show of anything else, no proof the gun being anything but a gun. For a moment Issac thought he felt it but it was his own body jolting at an unfamiliar sensation. He only had a brief moment left to look down and see the bright lights beaming through his veins.

Crowley’s usual smile returned easily when Issac collapsed. The view of Y/n standing there, knife in hand, finally in the clothes expected to be seen on a hunter. A grey undershirt, her flannel as red as her favorite lipstick he’s always seen her wear. Jeans worn out, most likely for repeated wear rather than the use of an aesthetic. Combat boots to endure proper footing if needed in a fight.

In all honesty, the sight had been more of a turn-on than her usual dress-ups.

“This must be what damsels feel like when their hero prevails-“

”Did you know?” She didn’t waste time on asking.

”Knooow?”

”About him!” She gestured towards the corpse. “The stalking, knowledge about the deal-!”

”I told you, I did my research on you. Issac’s been on my radar for longer than I care to remember. I knew he was going to make a move sooner or later. Though I wasn’t lying I do want that deal settled and your skill set. This was just an added convince.”

“He threw me out the fucking window of my house!”

”My condolences.” Crowley paused for a moment. “The colt was an added surprise, that wasn’t the real thing I take?”

”It was.”

”But you did know it had regular bullets yes?”

She shrugs.

”And you let him shoot it?!” She took pleasure in his offense. Watching him examine where the bullet had hit him.

”It was an added convenience.” She smiles.

“My suit,” He huffs.

”My condolences.” She glances at the body again. “Do you have to report all that?”

”To who?”

”Lilith.”

”Ah,” Crowley simply straightened out his suit. “A little betrayal story would go well. I could say he wanted to take her personal delivery case for himself. Add in my attempts with you- only that worth mentioning of course. But I still need that contract sealed beforehand.”

“Why? What’s the point of even mentioning me in all this?”

”You want immunity, don’t you? This is our ticket in. I’m shown as a loyal demon, you’re shown as an asset, and we have ourselves a proper start to a successful system. So….is there a deal?”

”What about the colt?”

”I’ll convince her to let me have it stored away for safe keeping though you’d have to hand over the actual bullets it came with. And that knife-“

”You take it and you can forget it.” She steps back instinctively.

”Fine,” He sighs. “Hard bargain but I’m willing if it lets you sleep at night. But I do prefer you leave it on the floor or elsewhere before approaching.” 

“Why? Do I have to shake your hand or something?”

“Not exactly.” Crowley smiles. “Listen carefully,” he moves to her. “This deal is binding. From this moment onward, you will be under my employment. You will do whatever I ask of you. There will be no refusal when I demand something of you. Except for the little list of conditions you decided upon beforehand. Good enough?”

She nodded hesitantly. Even now it felt wrong.

His hand tightened across the back of her hip as he leaned in close to her. His lips brush against hers at first, before quickly locking their lips together. It started out with a quick peck but soon turned into a slow, steady rhythm. For a brief moment, she gripped his suit, pulling him close before pulling away.

”Congratulations.” Crowley licks his lips, taking in the taste of her. “You made it past survival.”

[horizon-verizon]

I'm an old anon, a while ago I told you that I was worried that they will take away the houses that supported Rhaenyra and give them to Aegon.

I don't know if they will change that later but I decided to stop the chapter and stop watching it, I just can't continue with this I am completely unable to immerse myself in the story because all I can do is scream internally in indignation and bite my tongue to keep from screaming at the TV "this is stupid, this doesn't make sense, what the hell?! Why are they...?" I'm just on my way to having an aneurysm because of this damn show.

Rhaenyra lost support due to the death of the "child". I don't put it in quotes because I don't think he's a child but because they always refer to him that way, which can be dehumanizing except The continued emphasis that it was a child who was murdered will emphasize in the audience's mind how terrible it was, so don't forget that a child was murdered.

And it's terrible!

Only they are taking the plot from the blacks to give it to the greens. Again.

The death of an envoy means that the customs that are the basis of social agreements are not being respected that would make some reluctant to ally with the greens, the fact that A kinslayer remaining unpunished and his crime being celebrated means that no one wants to be associated with the perpetrators of that sin.

☝️These are the things that would make any potential ally reluctant to trust the Greens. Luke's death was a catalyst, a social horror and the fact that after the funeral it was erased(literally the scene doesn't even appear on the tapestry anymore but Alicent's green dress and Jaehaerys' death does) damages the very basis of support for Rhaenyra and her cause.

Every time someone says "But Jaehaerys! 🥹" I can only think "mmm... If you remember Luke and his murder or...?" sorry Luke, bb, apparently your death was irrelevant and you'll just be the guy who blinded sexyman (the reason doesn't matter either)

I also want to kill whoever is writing the Demon parts, because WHAT THE FUCK?! Give the man some charisma, I saw Matt as the doctor, I know he's capable of bombast . It is assumed that this is the man who, despite his cruelty, was attractive, this is the man who after 30~ years away still had allies in the force that he founded, THIS IS THE MAN WHO FORMED AN ARMY FIRST FOR VISERYS AND THEN FOR RHAENYRA!!! but he is incapable of not saying my way or the sword every time he talks to someone. Do you know who this reminds me it? AEMOND

And sorry to the people who thought Daemon had empathy for an old and sick ruler, here he suggests to his grandson that he kill his beloved grandfather to make him useful to his cause. That is literally Demon's winning speech.

The only thing, THE ONLY good thing so far is Jacaela, those two are a sweetheart and are learning to be a powerful couple. I think I'll just watch the gifs and scenes of them while crossing my fingers,maybe they won't ruin them too because at the pace we are going although at this rate TG's wish to get Cregan Stark on their side might happen.

Fuck this show, if they can't at least keep the political part right and every detail of the character motivation is stupider than the previous one I can't continue. I tried, but there is only so much stupidity one can endure

I'll note that I don't think that daemon would feel as much pity for a sick and dying old man "And sorry to the people who thought Daemon had empathy for an old and sick ruler," (Grover Tully wanted to follow Aegon and vociferously said so many times, so I esp do not think he'd feel empathy towards a old guy he'd see as a traitor). But neither would he seriously say to his heir to kill him--esp not in front of people who can see/hear him say such things.

THIS IS THE MAN WHO FORMED AN ARMY FIRST FOR VISERYS AND THEN FOR RHAENYRA!!! but he is incapable of not saying my way or the sword every time he talks to someone. Do you know who this reminds me it? AEMOND

Yeah...it's been a thing, unfortunately anon.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Heeeeeyyyyy

Can I drop a request? (You can say kriff off and I will still love you ❤️)

I'd like a little soft Hunter? Or any clone really if you wanna try someone new.

I had one of the worst days in a long time about two weeks ago. It was the first anniversary of my caretaker's death combined with the worst day at work I've ever experienced. I cried for the thirty minute drive home, and for another 30 curled up catatonic on the couch. I tried to quit my job, called my mom sobbing, it was a very bad time.

Cue some clone comfort? You absolutely do not need to use the details of my bad day, that's just what was going on and inspired my ask.

Anywho, here's two cats as payment:

🌙Hex🔮

Omg of course you can drop a request, Hex, always!! You're actually the first person to make a request too, and I was so surprised I kinda cried. 🥺

Penelope and Baklava are so cute all cuddled up like that too aaaa~

I hope you like what I came up with, sweetheart; and I'm sorry you're Going Through It™ as well, too. I'm currently there for different reasons and it suuuucks so this was extremely cathartic. Hope things will get better soon, love. 🩷

W&I: Minor proofreading and plot. 2nd person POV, undescribed fem!Reader. Emotional angst. Talks and thoughts centered on the loss of a person only described as a "loved one" without explicit mention of relation to you or their role in your life. Can be read as an established relationship fic. Hunter's just being real sweet on you to cheer you up. Little sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language. No real age rating for this one.

Word-count: 2,383

That's it. 

You're done. 

You're so over this place. 

If one more patron tries to tell me to smile while using some variation of darling or sweetheart, I'll give him teeth alright: in the flesh of his arm, you think to yourself. 

It's not exactly an appropriate time to laugh, but if you don't snicker softly to yourself over the thought of such a forbidden fantasy, you're going to cry. You're going to cry before you squeeze through the doors that read EMPLOYEES ONLY and make your way to the machine to clock yourself out of your shift and get yourself home. Who gives a load of Kryatespit if it only earns the customer's ire to have you laughing at him?

Right now, if you had your way, if you gave into your impulse, you'd quit. You'd turn in your uniform, your name badge, and any little piece of company property you'd ever acquired so these soul-sucking middle managers and CEOs can't come around and accuse you of anything. 

You didn't want to be here today. You didn't want to get out of bed today. But you couldn't get the time off approved. Some banthashit about too few hands to run the place as it is.

Well maybe if you hired more kriffing people… 

"Your receipt is in the bag. Enjoy the rest of your day, sir." When you give the customer his purchase with these phrases you're required to say, it means he can leave now and take his smug attitude with him. Social obligations means he's going to tell you the same. An empty, hollowed out "Thanks, you too." that perfectly encapsulates how you feel inside. 

How the hell am I supposed to enjoy today of all days? One of the most important people to me in this galaxy isn't here anymore. 

I don't want to be here at this job anymore… I just want to quit.

You keep your head down when you clock-out, and grab your things. You don't return sentiments of farewell from any of your co-workers, and you don't respond to the request to trade shifts with someone for some BS reason. "Hey, c'moooon! Please?! I've got things I wanna do that day!" they whine after you, calling to your retreating back. 

Don't we all? I just wanted to stay home and maybe sob into a carton of ice cream while looking at my photos of my loved one. We don't always get what we want. 

What you want is to go home. Think of how you're going to call in, or write up your two weeks notice, or just cold-quit while you're sitting in your transport and-

You find an unexpected figure leaning against your transport when you step out into the employee lot, their back to you. What the hell? You begin rifling through your bag for something to arm yourself with, perhaps something like a bottle of cheap perfume you have in there somewhere that you can spray in their eyes, or maybe there's something you can throw in their direction, tell them to scram. Or maybe their after your credits, so you hope you can just tell them to take your credits and not cause you any trouble and-

Looking over his left shoulder, you find yourself staring at the ink of the skeletal tattoo and a side profile framed by waves of curled, brown hair you'd recognize anywhere. 

"H-Hunter?" 

Hunter turns to face you, his hands fiddling with the knot of his crimson bandana to work it loose. That's when you finally realized why you didn't recognize who was leaning against your vehicle in the growing, deepening purple shadows of the late afternoon. "I thought you'd be a little happier to see me than that," he says with a look that's somewhere between a typical smile and a concerned frown, "but I guess you didn't realize it was me. And I guess I shouldn't have been standing here with my back to you, either." Hunter slips the accessory around his head and reties it with a hasty knot. "Sorry about that, mesh'la." 

There's a million questions swimming over the top of your tongue, each one vying to be asked. "Wha-? How did-? Why are you-?"

Hunter does his best to answer the questions he believes you're trying to ask. "Crosshair gave me a lift here so I could drive you home once you got off work." he says, holding a hand out. He's offering to take your bag and the keys to your vehicle. "As for why, well: it's today. I saw it written on your calendar the last time I came to visit. It's been a year since you lost your loved one. I figured you might be just holding it together by the time your shift ended, and… I think I was right." His hand cups the soft curve of your cheek, the pad of his thumb collecting the first tears that have begun to escape the confines of your tear ducts. 

Hunter sweetly helps you into the passenger seat, and gets any and all safety belts secured before he himself climbs behind the controls and gets ready to take you home. 

"We'll pick up whatever you want to eat on the way home, if that's what you want, cyar'ika." he offers, gently resting the palm of his hand on your trembling shoulder for a brief moment. He's not certain if you want a lot of these gestures of reassuring, physical touch, but it's what he can offer right now so you know that he's there for you. 

Right here, right now, as you weep silently into the sleeves of your work uniform in the passenger seat, Hunter is here for you. And he's not going anywhere until he's either satisfied with his efforts to do his best to lift your spirits, or until you ask him to leave. 

Remnants of the comfort-food you'd requested are either tucked away with the rest of your leftovers, or swept up and deposited into the kitchen trash by Hunter when he makes the offer to do a bit of tidying up. Gentle murmurings that he doesn't want you to worry about it, he'll take care of everything. 

He'll take care of you. Hunter's not going to judge you for your tears. Or for telling him how you wished you could have reamed out this difficult customer. Or for how you shout in your episodic instances of anger, calling your manager a spineless and incompetent little twit who needed to get their act together and quit being so cheap and to hire more people so you're not running yourself so karking ragged. 

Nor does he admonish you for how silly it was that you're complaining about the rip in your clothing made by the thorns found in one of the bushes outside your house, or easily you fall apart into a mess of tears at the gentle hand on your shoulder when he joins you on the sofa once again. 

"Could this day get any worse?!" you sob, your face hot with anger and grief, and your voice thick and choked with the respective emotions.

Hunter is patient and endlessly perceptive; tucking your body just right against him, the way you need him right now. "C'mere, cyare… You've certainly had a pretty thorny day… And I don't blame you for simply just having enough of it all. I don't blame you at all." he promises, sweetly and softly peppering your face in tender kisses with the intention of comfort. 

"I've been having a lot of thorny days lately…" you admit with a stutter, burying your face into the material of his shirt. Hunter smells like sun-warmed cotton and the heavy tang of seawater. Of course now you can't tell if you smell hints of his homeworld on him, or if that's the dried tear stains from earlier. When the two of you simply sat in the parked vehicle once you'd gotten home, Hunter leaned over the center console so you could weep into his shoulder. You'd dialed up your job, ready to tell them that they needed to find someone else, but you couldn't go through with it. Not then, anyways. You haven't been able to make up your mind, either. 

Hunter rubs little circles with his thumb into your shoulder blade as he holds you close, saying that he's sorry to hear you've been struggling lately. That he's sorry you're having hard days. "I just want them to stop!" you sob softly, feeling his fingers gently caress the back of your head, and the deep rumble in his ribs as he asks you to take a deep breath, promising that he's here. That he'll help however he needs.

If you breathe him in deeply enough, you could probably find something from all of his brothers. Something sugary that he was offered a bite of to share with his brother as Wrecker indulged his sweet tooth. The rich blend of caf Tech was partial to lately, that could give him the jitters when Hunter drank it by mistake. The smooth notes of the polishing agent Crosshair spoiled his Firepuncher with because he swore nothing else would do. The faint whiff of synthetic lubricant that must mean Echo had performed upkeep on his prosthetics today or the day before. 

"There we go," Hunter says softly in praise, feeling the frenzied beating of your heart begin to slow and your tears eventually peter out, "it'll be okay, cyare." 

You sniffle, mumbling softly into Hunter's chest. "I'm just so scared that it won't. And I feel silly for feeling so scared..." His arms stitch just a little tighter around you in return when you pull yourself against him, feeling his breath against the top of your head. You just feel so small in your sadness today. But in his arms, the way you fit just right…

The way he's so steady, you feel so loved and protected when you're at your most vulnerable. 

Hunter hushes you, pulling the hair back from your face with a gentle touch once you sit up again. "Tech would probably tell you that that fear is a natural and normal part of life, and that there's no use to feel silly about it. And, even if the way he'd probably say it isn't so gentle, he'd be right. How you're feeling today - angry and upset about your job and wanting to quit, and how much you miss your loved one - is all very thorny and uncomfortable, and no one likes feeling like that. But it's normal. And it's nothing to be ashamed of. And I promise you, I'm here to help. However I'm needed. However long you need me to hold you and make you feel loved while you're feeling down." 

The gentle reminder is just what you need. You're not dealing with this alone. That if you're going to quit your job, Hunter would do whatever you asked of him to help you get ready to sever those ties if you felt it was time. That even though you're left with a hole in your heart with the passing of this loved one who was very important to you, Hunter doesn't expect his presence to merely fill it like it's nothing. 

That's the marvelous thing about the human heart. 

It can hold so much love for so many people if you let it. 

You're certain your eyes look so swollen and red. You're certain you'll find more tears to shed when the thorns of grief find their excuse to make you weep once more, but right now, Hunter's hands have carefully and kindly cleaned away the last of them. He's so gentle and sweet on you, right now. 

"Hey… what if," Hunter begins, offering in a soft, low voice between the kisses he stamps in the crown of your hair and trails down one side of your jaw to the other, "you changed out of your uniform, and we found something to watch together now that we've had something to eat? Something silly. Maybe something romantic. Or both. Whatever you want, cyare. I don't care what it is." he promises.

You fiddle with the frayed and torn edge of your clothing that had been caught on the thorny plant outside. "What if I just want more cuddles after I change?" Hunter laughs gently, nodding as he reluctantly releases you so you can slip into something comfortable and try to end this day on a happier note. 

(You're going to have to send Crosshair a message later to thank him for doing Hunter a favor by giving his brother a lift and dropping him off.)

"Whatever you want. Especially if that's more cuddles." Hunter says once more with a warm smile, hooking your pinky fingers together so he can hold some part of you just a moment longer. If you found comfort in his touch and wanted more of it, he was happy to provide. 

You're pulled back into Hunter's arms when you come back to the living room after you've thrown on a comfortable pair of clothes, finding yourself wrapped up tight. He's so strong, like all of his brothers, and every ounce of it is devoted to comfort and consoling you right now.

Hunter is so warm and comfortable, and you're so emotionally drained that it's hard to resist the act of nuzzling one cheek into his chest and closing your eyes to simply relish this quiet moment. You don't know what you want to do, but you just know that you need this. Hunter knows it too.

People need a good hug now and again. This galaxy could be so cruel and thorny to the people who mattered most to us, that sometimes what they needed most was an act of deliberate softness to remind them everything would be okay. That the bad times will pass. 

That while our hearts yearn and grieve for the ones we miss the most, the room we had for them in our hearts will always remain no matter how long they've been gone. 

And the people we love in the here and now will fit themselves next to that jagged space and trim back the thorns, if we only ask.

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[writingshushf1]

THE LONELIEST

Summary: You'll be the saddest part of me. A part of me that will never be mine. It's obvious. Tonight is gonna be the loneliest

Rating: +16

Warnings: angst? breakup? losing someone

Word count: 3.7k

Note: this was an old pierre gasly fic that i wrote last year for a friend- however since i don't actually like writing for him (and the plot doen't fit for him AT ALL) i rewrote some details and now here it is! I did it with george because it matched him? i guess and to change a bit from the usual either mick or lewis requests. MAY HAVE SOME MISTAKES on writing

masterlist

It was supposed to be just one night, a single dawn of fun and silly mistakes, but I was wrong. And life is never that easy.

Monaco, August 2022.

The view was breathtaking, clearly worth every penny spent. Strolling through Port Hercule at night was breathtaking, the yachts lit up, people partying and living in every possible luxury. I admit, I was a little jealous, I really wanted to be in the middle of it all.

It seemed very well that fate really wanted me to make the most of it, because within minutes a man taller than me came closer. At first I was apprehensive and turned away slightly, until he began to speak.

"A friend of mine saw that you were alone here, taking pictures of the place and walking. Um..." The man looked me up and down. "Invitation from her, if you want, you can join us." He smiled at me, clearly the stranger possessed the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.

For a few seconds, I thought about the proposal, because they were strangers and I didn't know what they wanted to do with me, but you only live once. Before agreeing, I sent the location to my friend. If I didn't answer within 3 hours, she could get desperate and call the police.

"Sure. We can go, yes." He held out his hand to me, reluctantly, I held it and let him guide me around the place. "I don't know your name yet."

"George Russell. You?"

"Y/n."

"Interesting name, where are you from?" Russell was trying to initiate some conversation until we got to the boat. It was cute, like he was really interested in what I was going to talk about.

I answered, seeing him crack a smile. "However, these last few years I am hopping around several countries because of my job."

When we entered the luxurious place, I could no longer hear him properly, the conversations and loud music filled our surroundings, he just smiled and dragged me to the small bar set up.

"On the house, whatever drink you want." He murmured over my ear. This distance was too dangerous.

Hours later, I woke up crossed in my hotel bed. I had an unbearable hangover, but I was not going to let it ruin my day. Again, I was exploring the place to find out something to do. I walked around the city, hoping to bump into the pair of clear eyes that had kept me company on the yacht. Since it was a Sunday, brunch would be my choice for my first meal of the day, so I walked around looking for a place to eat. After a while I found a small, cozy restaurant and the first person I see when I enter is him. My heart races and I seem to hold my breath involuntarily.

"Y/n!" He calls out loudly, breaking my trance, "I thought I would never see you again."

"I didn't think so either, not least because we were too crazy yesterday to be rational and take each other's number." I laughed lightly.

"So… This is Alex Albon and Mick Schumacher, two very close friends of mine." I greeted them both. "So... Tonight we're going out to a nightclub, if you'd like to join us, just let me know the hotel you're in and I'll come pick you up."

"You really enjoyed my company!" I said, cracking a smile immediately afterwards. 

"What can I do? You're the life of the party, honey."

...

Okay, I was on the verge of a breakdown and it was about one piece of clothing. It had been 30 minutes and I couldn't decide between two dresses. It was almost time for me to go down to the hotel lobby and I was still standing there in just my underwear looking at both. My cell phone ringing was the highlight, it was him and he was probably already waiting for me downstairs. Out of desperation I grabbed the simplest but most low-cut black dress.

The elevator took ages - actually, seconds - to drop me off on the first floor and I ran to meet him.

"Wow, you're a sight for sore eyes, someone was definitely inspired today" He said as I got closer to him, I just rolled my eyes and he laughed, opening the car door for me.

Arriving at the club, I was clearly feeling out of place, the people were extremely rich and in the middle of them, there was I. We went to the VIP area and soon I was already with a glass of an expensive drink in hand and making small talk with George. He had the best subjects to hold me in conversation while he managed to flirt shamelessly and I was completely falling for it. The boys and his other friends were dancing with girls - either his girlfriends or random girls, while he was trying to be as sexy as possible, trying to impress me. And he was.

"Let's dance." I spoke softly to him, holding his hand and pulling him into the group of people.

Unholy, by Sam Smith was playing and at that moment I was not me, not even a little bit, it seemed that all the shame and lack of courage had been taken from me. The British had already understood what I was doing, so he rested his firm hands on my waist as I danced shamelessly, moving my body against him. He was enjoying what I was doing, his breaths getting heavier and closer to my ear, until his face was pressed against the back of my neck. Thank God it was dark and no one could see how we were grinding into each other

"Oh God, doll..." He murmured, which left me with my cheeks boiling with embarrassment, however it was not the moment. "I want to kiss you so badly."

"Kiss me then."

In a matter of seconds, I felt my body being turned around and his lips were against mine. I couldn't help myself, I ran my hands over his body, from his chest to the back of his neck. He responded in the same way, his hands were not discreet and it didn't matter who saw us like that. The kiss was hot and desperate, as if he had wanted it since he first saw me. When we parted for some air, his lips were a purplish shade of purple from my lipstick, which made me laugh softly at the forgotten detail.

"Do you want to get out of here? Where I live there is plenty of room for one more person to spend the night there." His hand was already strong on my waist, as a sign of dominance and it made a puddle form inside my panties

"Okay."

We could have reached where he lived in 5 minutes, but with the amount of distractions we had on the way, it ended up lasting 20. We can say that a few kisses and touches were exchanged in the meantime.

Russell’s desire was gigantic, for the moment I closed the door, I was picked up and seconds later my back was against the bed. I took off my heels anyway and he was soon on top of me.

"That dress clearly had an effect on me." That was the last thing he said before he kissed me again.

...

I opened my eyes slowly, the darkness of the room that was not mine confused me for a few seconds until I remembered where I really was. It was at that moment that I felt hands around my naked waist and George sleeping peacefully beside me. My first reaction was not to move, he looked so calm that I turned my body to lie against his chest, just to enjoy the moment of peace, but happiness doesn't last long...

"Good morning." His voice was half hoarse and in a low tone. Shit, why so hot?

"Good morning." I sighed loudly and stood, completely forgetting that I was only in my panties until he groaned at me, my cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

"Vision of paradise." I said unashamedly.

I didn't answer, just smiled shyly and quickly got dressed. Soon I was brushing my teeth and he didn't even get out of bed. When I was ready to leave, the British got up in just his underwear.

"Why are you going already? We had such a good night..." Indeed, the night had been one of the best I had ever had.

"Because..." There was no reason, we didn't work together, we don't even have any previous relationship or that would cause future problems. "There is no reason. I thought we were just a one-night stand."

"It doesn't have to be a one-night stand. If you want." He said in a lower tone, as if it were our secret. "I'm willing to try." His hands passed around my waist, pulling my body against his and away from the door.

I thought for a moment before answering. My previous relationships had been terrible and no one seemed to be the person. I hardly knew him, didn't know where he worked, just that he was very rich, his hobbies...

"We can try." And so, I made the most painful mistake of my life.

...

I was wearing one of his shirts, while he was ordering our breakfast - they looked so big on me. He was tall so his outfits were bigger. I sat on the window ledge, looking out at the beautiful scenery that could be seen from there. As soon as he returned with two relatively large boxes, I smiled.

"Don't go anywhere, I'll tidy up and we can eat with the beautiful view on the balcony." My heart melted for a few seconds, how cute could he be? Clearly my view of him had changed in a matter of minutes.

Neither of us shared a word while we were eating, but in our defense, the food was wonderful, which drew a few satisfied sighs. Still, in order to make conversation and find out about his personal life, I made conversation again.

"George?"

"Huh?"

"What do you work in? So far I haven't asked you or even googled you to find out if you are some big tycoon who can rent an apartment in Monaco." The tone was not one of malice, just curiosity. "I know at times, you had people from afar taking pictures of you, but I thought I just thought you were handsome. It's just that I have this thing… I mean, which job is so good that you live here." I cracked an amused smile, crossing my legs over his.

"Formula 1 driver. Currently at Mercedes." He replied as if it was the most common job in the world, yet at the same moment I knocked over the piece of cronut that was in my hands. "I thought you already knew!"

"No! I didn't know? Look... I only know the most famous ones that have passed through the sport... Senna, Schumacher, Prost...Lauda. I had no idea who was currently in the sport." He just laughed at my surprise. "That's why people keep watching you from afar! By God! What if they saw us leaving the club last night? What could that do to your reputation?"

"Honey. Calm down, it's not that dramatic." He used his free hand to place it over my cheek. "They always speculate about our lives and I couldn't care less. If we are available to try, I think more about you. You're not used to living in this life of cameras and constant attention."

"I'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" 

"For you? Yes."

...

Two weeks went by and there I was, watching from my cell phone, the Dutch Grand Prix, all for George Russell. Officially we were still nothing, however, under the surface. He was my boyfriend.

Something so strange to say, as much as I know he is the right person. At that moment I was at the airport, ready to catch a plane to the province of Monza, so that we could spend a week together - more like post-practice on Friday, post-qualifying on Saturday and post-race on Sunday, because I cannot yet afford to quit my job to live as a fan of my boyfriend.

That's when the inevitable problems started to happen.

I arrived exhausted in Monza and went straight to the hotel, didn't answer messages and didn't even look at my cell phone properly. I was so tired that I wanted my bed. Russell was extremely worried and almost considered leaving the Netherlands on Monday because of my disappearance. On Tuesday, he came to my hotel room, but I was constantly in meetings and doing work, which did not please him, because he missed my company. That day he apologized. On Wednesday I got some time off, but he had already arranged to leave with his friends. There was nothing to apologize for. By Thursday he was already involved with the race that would happen on Sunday and I continued working. We hardly spoke to each other.

On Friday, after the free training sessions, we had a dinner scheduled in a fancy restaurant and we managed to go. I can say that it was the best night, because we didn't sleep afterwards, we just killed our homesickness with lots of wine, conversation and sex.

Saturday was qualifying and I was there. Sunday, third place. I was proud of him and we celebrated together with the others. I felt out of place with the other girlfriends and partners of the pilots, for the most part they were all so Chic, I felt left out, because I was a simple girl who, with the effort of my family that helped me get to a renowned company, was still not enough.

Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were ordinary, goodbye is always painful, I would only see him in a few weeks. One of those nights around the weekend, he said I love you and I said it back, hanging up the phone before I could hear his answer.

We haven't seen each other in person for over a month. He travels to one side of the world. I am in a different city, we try to reconcile time zones and catch planes, but our routine is dull and it is upsetting for both of us. What keeps us positive is the end of the season and finally we can spend weeks and weeks together. Four more races and this year is over.

Each time more time passed, the pain in my chest of longing increased, because we were amazing together, love seemed to overflow, yet the pain of not having him by my side hurt me and I know that it also affected him mentally. A painful truth seemed to grow in my chest. I was trying to knead it, but it was getting bigger and bigger.

The agony often took over my body. The fear of him never coming home, what if he found someone better? What if I gave up this crazy life he was living? If I wanted more security?

Maybe this was not the time to be together.

And that only proved to be true around Christmas. Our first fight, over something as simple as where we were going to spend the holiday together, ended in both sides crying and endless apologies. Our temper was still the biggest problem for both of us, even if our love was big and beautiful. Explosiveness to end everything in a matter of seconds. We were in a weird mood for 3 days after that. The decision was to spend Christmas each with their own family, the relationship was too new for us to go out showing off to each other and this was right, newly blossoming feelings. I spent the holiday period sending pictures and messages, getting minimal responses, but it was expected.

After that, the relationship was still very good, we couldn't see each other on some weekends, the other turned to love and sex, yet there was an elephant in our midst that no one wanted to mention. The start of racing in 2023. He was now in a relatively better car than the previous one and that would demand even more of him.

We avoided the subject until the start of pre-season testing. His mental health was worse than usual, but he was happy with the results, I was... My family had disassembled, losing someone was never easy, much less when your job also blew up in less than a week after that, besides being on the other side of the world with no prediction of returning home. Everything had piled up and was taking too much out of both of us.

He was trying to be everything, only my life was meaningless and no matter how much I returned the love, I knew it was still not enough for his big, passionate heart.

We needed to talk.

...

The second day he was home, my body was exhausted from looking out for work so as not to leave him paying for it alone, even though he didn't mind. As soon as I arrived, I ran to his lap, where I hid my face and let him comfort me.

"We need to talk." 

"What's it about, kitten?"

"We... We are distant. Not physically, but mentally... It seems that our lives don't want to share with each other. I need to go back to my country and I don't know if I can get back here anytime soon, while you... You are in an amazing team, living a dream of winning podiums... To be adored by new people. They are not working out."

"Love..."

"I am serious. Haven't you noticed that every time our lives come into our relationship, either we fight and come out crying or one of us needs to be consoling the other? It's never about enjoying each other's lives, participating, feeling at home. It is about working like convicts and maybe on the weekend getting together for sex sessions and small talk over a bottle of wine. Not that I don't love this and don't love you.”

"However?"

"Yet this is killing me, and it's killing you, too. You're 25 years old, baby. At the peak of your career and so soon you don't want to retire and stop the momentum. I need some calm right now, my family is destroyed. You are married to your career, which I don't think is completely wrong for your environment, but our visions of the future will not fit together. At least not today."

I watched him swallow hard, his face turned to the side, tears timidly streaming down his face. Without even hesitating, I run both hands over his face, wiping them away.

"I don't want to break up with you. It's the first time I've ever been completely given over to someone. I have never, ever really devoted myself as much, felt as loved as you have made me feel, honey. " The crying voice brought pain to my heart and I wanted to give up halfway through. "Don't do this to me."

"You know I don't want to either." I murmured, ignoring my own tears and leaning my forehead against his. "But it's the best thing for both of us. How many times have we cried this week? Over things within our relationship that we can't fix. They're incorrigible because they're not up for us to change, George."

"I know. I know all this, but I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me. I promise you. One day we will meet again."

"How do you know?"

"Because our lives aren't on the same page. One day we'll have our right moment and we'll make everything we couldn't experience in these months count. I promise."

"I will never forget you.

"Then let's make this night unforgettable."

And we had sex that night. We cried together, packed my bags, and cried some more. And in a few hours I was at the airport to return to my country. He didn't want to let me go, his hug was so strong and his kisses were endless, they were so desperate but at the same time they carried so much love. Everyone always said that goodbyes were always hard, even more so for young loves.

"This here. It stays with you. When you think it's our time, you give it back to me." He took it off one of his favorite necklaces, placing it around my neck.

I was unresponsive for a few seconds, just enjoying the touch of his hands. "I will always love you, Russ."

"And I will always love you too, love. See you someday?"

"See you someday."

So we had our last kiss, intense, with his tongue next to mine, bodies glued together, and then a strong and tearful hug, and minutes later I was walking into the plane, my face swollen. I couldn't stop crying and thinking how incredible that love had been.

Thinking about the future with him, with the possibility of meeting him again made me cry even more, because I had the courage to leave him, however I knew it was the best, I didn't want us to end with just hate and no love.

When you love, sometimes you have to make the hardest choice.

...

George (pov)

I was sitting on my bed. I didn't know that love could hurt so much as it did right now.

"She was that person who messed everything up and yet, fixed everything at the same time. I was no longer Russell who did things without thinking. She loved me so much and I loved her so much. Why does everything that is good have such a painful end? It was just like a novel... Which was supposed to be beautiful, the kind that annoys people with all the love the main characters have, but…” Lewis just listened to me, with a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed slightly, to show that he understood what I meant.

"The greatest loves don't last forever, friend." He murmured, giving me a hug where I let myself cry.

[youredreamingofroo]

Long winded rant of me talking about NSB, doing a new series, storytelling and whatever else I talked about under the cut, feel free to read it's just me rambling, I don't really care if ppl read it or not it's VERY long 😭

I've been painfully itching to start a new series, I know I'm doing NSB rn, and I do plan to at least finish the normal NSB legacy (up to Gen 9), although I might finish or take a break at around Gen 5 or 6, just because I don't wanna lose motivation and also because it takes A LOT to make some of these posts (for example, the last NSB post... took a lot out of me), and I'm only on Gen 2, almost Gen 3 rn, and I was originally planning to do all 30 or 40 Gens in the updated ver of NSB, which def doesn't seem like it'll be happening right now, because at the current rate at which I post, and how fast things in my game move, Sims 6 will be out before I even finish Gen 30 😭😭

Anyways, I don't know what the series would be about, if I were to do a new series, it would definitely be a lot more story based, if not completely story based, I don't know if I'd do/include gameplay, but I really wanna dive into more storytelling and setting up scenes, I'm not a film or theatre kid by any means, and I really don't know much about writing and setting up scenes and stuff, to be honest, i don't even know how I storytell, I guess it's just regurgitated content molded to shape the statue of my story if that makes sense lmao, I guess it's also the art of using so many fucking metaphors and similes that doing something like comparing love to drowning in a cold ocean comes sorta easy to me? I'm not grammatically inclined and don't know a lot about punctuation, my teachers all kinda gave up on me in English class, so all of my writing is basically self taught, which I guess is the case for a lot of things I do- I feel like starting a new series would help me learn how to write better, even though it seems like a lot of ppl love my writing, I still feel like I could improve so much and do so much better. I already have a couple ideas in mind for a new series, I don't think I'll say much rn just in case I decide to make them a series, but as for right now, I've got plans for Gen 3 NSB (aka Calico), and if I were to start a new series, I would not stop playing NSB, but due to how I function and shit, I would have to put NSB on hiatus, I kind of have a hard time doing two stories at once, hence why Sharkie's story got put on hiatus, because it was too stressful for me to double up, especially with how often I post (at least 3 or 4 times a week), I would like to go back and play Sharkies story and share her story up to this point where I last played her, her story is a lot more gameplay centered (for example, I am more inclined to make a blender scene for NSB, then Sharkie, for Sharkie, I'd do stuff like go to the bar and see how it plays out and take screenshots and just edit those) which I like more, but that's not to say I don't enjoy NSB, because I equally LOVE storytelling as I do gameplay.

While writing this, I did think of something I could do, which would be posting NSB every other week (so one week I do Sharkie or some other series and then the next week I do NSB, then a diff series, so on so forth), the only problem is that usually when I get an idea, and I finish that idea, I like to post it asap, I'm not good at scheduling posts lmao, but it might be worth it if people want to see another series (that is if anyone is still reading up to this point lol), I'd like to channel my storytelling into a more story based save/story, but idk! I'm just kinda doing my thing rn and I'm at a point where i wanna do something different. I especially wanna start doing more in blender, it just takes fucking forever to do some of the stuff I wanna do, and some of it means learning new stuff which is thrice as hard and takes thrice as long compared to normal posing and stuff 😭

[musette22]

The Element of Surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan)

Rating: Explicit (18+ only please)

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: rough(er) sex, light degrading language, light roleplay, light Dom/sub

A/N: AKA the long awaited mustache fic (awaited by no one but me, but still). I've had that little text convo at the beginning saved in my notes app for a long time, but I never quite knew how I wanted to follow it up. I still didn’t really know where I was going with this when I finally started writing it, but I should have known it would turn into filth. I’m not sorry, except to those of you who can't abide the 'stache (even though your opinion is wrong) <3 And btw, if you're thinking 'this reads like a bad porn flick', that is entirely intentional 😌 Hope you enjoy! Comments = love <3

****

C: be there in 30

S: I'll put a beer in the freezer

C: I love you

S: I know

S: love you too

C: and seb, just

C: don't laugh ok

S: huh?

S: why would I laugh

C: you'll see

S: ?? what does that mean?

C: be there soon 😘

Sebastian huffs, leaving his phone on the couch as he heads into his kitchen and pulls open the pantry door.

He doesn’t drink enough beer to permanently keep his fridge stocked with the stuff, and while Chris does love his beer (understatement), he’s trying to cut back. Or at least not to drink on weeknights. Too much. But since tonight is Friday and they have a whole weekend ahead of them in which they’ll be doing nothing but relaxing, ordering pizza, and watching movies, Sebastian figures they can start indulging a little early. He grabs a couple of beers from the bottom shelf, sticking them in the freezer to chill, so Chris will come home to a cold beer later.

As he returns to the living room and stretches out on the couch, bag of potato chips in hand, it occurs to Sebastian just how domestic it all feels. The thought makes him smile.

He’s never been very good at domesticity, which it’s why it’s even more surprising how much he likes it, this time around. He knows he shouldn’t get too used to having Chris in his space, he does, but it’s just too nice not to want to soak it up and roll around in it every chance he gets. The prospect of Chris staying at his place for longer than just a weekend makes something warm and giddy fizz in the pit of his stomach. It’s addictive.

For the next few months, Chris will be on stage every night in his first ever Broadway play, and for the duration of its run, he’ll be staying in New York.

Officially, Chris is renting a swanky place in Tribeca.

Unofficially, he’s staying with Sebastian at his tiny SoHo apartment.

The fact that Sebastian lives in New York played at least some part in Chris’s decision to do a Broadway play this year. They were both tired of only seeing each other whenever one of them could take a few days off to visit the other (under the radar, of course). Already, Chris spending an extended period of time in New York has done their relationship a world of good.

Things are good. Easy. If he’s being honest with himself, Sebastian can’t remember the last time he felt so content.

Since coming to New York, Chris has been going to rehearsals every weekday. Sebastian has sometime off in between projects, and he’s set to attend the premiere of Lobby Hero this Monday – ostensibly as an interested co-star, secretly in the capacity of supportive boyfriend. He can’t wait to see Chris shine on stage. Chris is nervous as hell, to the point where he’s wondered if blowing the whole thing off wouldn’t be better than letting everyone down, but there’s no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that he’ll knock it out of the park. Chris is a lot better than he gives himself credit for.

When a car door slams outside his apartment, Sebastian sits up, brushing the crumbs off his sweater – a soft, light blue one that Chris says brings out his eyes. When he darts a look out the window, Chris’s cab is just driving off. The man himself is keeping his head down, so all Sebastian can see is the top of the baseball cap he’s wearing.

Curious now, Sebastian gets up to greet Chris. Less than a minute later, the door to Sebastian’s apartment opens, Chris walks in, looks up, and –

Sebastian chokes on air.

The sound that leaves him is one he’s never heard himself make before; something high and squeaky and extremely embarrassing.

“Don’t,” Chris says instantly, a warning in his voice.

Sebastian gapes at him.

“You have a mustache,” he says faintly, once he’s remembered how to talk.

“Yep.” Chris lifts a hand to his face, fiddling with said mustache. “It’s for the role.”

Distantly, Sebastian registers he sounds a little off, and that’s when he finally notices the hint of apprehension in Chris’s eyes. Just the smallest glint of poorly concealed uncertainty.

Chris is worried, Sebastian realizes with a start.

Worried that Sebastian will laugh at him. That Sebastian might not find him attractive anymore.

Well. No need to worry about that, apparently.

Because for some unholy reason, that thing on Chris’s upper lip – big and bushy and only about half an inch on either side removed from being a handlebar mustache – is currently making Sebastian want to climb him like a fucking tree.

Not that he doesn’t normally want to do that, but urge is suddenly more intense than usual. By about three hundred and twelve percent.

“You look…”

“Ridiculous?” Chris supplies, self-deprecating as always. “Like my dad? A 70s porn star?”

“You look hot.” Sebastian doesn’t quite mean to blurt it out like that, but he does anyway. And. Well. That’s out there now.

Chris’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I – what?”

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes. He runs a shaky hand through his short hair, trying to gather his thoughts. “Look, I don’t know what this says about me, but uh. I am like, really fucking attracted to you right now. Even more than usual, I mean.”

For a long moment, Chris looks at him as if he’s crazy, or maybe like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but once it becomes clear that Sebastian isn’t joking (if only he were), Chris’s expression turns into one of tentative amusement.

“You’re serious,” he says, taking a step closer. Keeping his eyes fixed on Sebastian’s face, he carefully runs his thumb and forefinger over the mustache in a gesture that kind of makes him look like he’s up to no good. “You like it?”

Sebastian swallows. “Uh-huh.”

“Didn’t know you had a thing for guys with mustaches.”

“Neither did I.” Sebastian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I think it might even just be you.”

“Oh, really?” Chris asks, some of his usual cheek returning now that he realizes he isn’t going to get laughed at. Far from it, in fact. “Huh. What do you like about it?”

“Um,” Sebastian says, swallowing as Chris steps closer. Oh Christ, it’s even worse up close. Or better, depending how you look at it. And Sebastian is looking at it. Can’t tear his eyes away from it, actually. “It. Uh - it makes you look…”

Several words flit, unbidden, through Sebastian’s mind, each one worse than the last. Macho. Authoritative. Mean.

“…good,” he finishes lamely.

Worryingly, Chris’s smile grows into a full-blown grin, and Sebastian’s skin erupts into goosebumps.

Oh, no. Sometimes Sebastian really wishes Chris didn’t know him as well as he does.

Though when Chris takes off his baseball cap, tossing it onto the hallway table, Sebastian hisses. “Ah, okay. The hair is kinda bad.”

Chris snorts, running his fingers through the spiky strands. “Right? I look like an asshole.”

“Little bit.”

Chris gives him a calculating look. “So… does that mean the effect is ruined?”

Sebastian takes a moment to consider this. “I mean, it’s objectively bad, but…” he trails off. Ugh, he really should be used to this by now, but on some level Sebastian still can’t believe that Chris can make literally any look work for him. So annoying. “…no. Not ruined. Sadly.”

Reassured, Chris slowly starts to advance on him. With every step that Chris takes forward, Sebastian takes one back, until his heels hit the wall of his hallway. He holds his breath, feeling like a bunny rabbit about to be eaten by a wolf, though presumably a little more turned on than said bunny rabbit would be at the prospect.

Stopping right in front of him, Chris leans in, placing his hands against the wall on either side of Sebastian’s shoulders.

“Hey, good lookin’,” Chris says, his breath ghosting Sebastian’s left ear. Sebastian shivers with his entire body – something which doesn’t escape Chris’s notice, and makes the grin turn into a smirk. “You come here often?”

Despite how turned on he’s rapidly getting, Sebastian snorts. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

Chris hums. “Funny how I haven’t seen you here before, then.”

“I have been saying you should get an eye test. You’ve been squinting a lot more lately.”

“Seb,” Chris huffs, fighting a smile. “C’mon, I’m tryin’ something here.”

“Right, sorry.” Sebastian clears his throat. “I, uh. I haven’t seen you before either.” Licking his lips, he adds, “Would’ve noticed if I had.”

“You would, huh? And why’s that?”

“Well, see…” Sebastian’s eyes drop to Chris’s mouth. Specifically, his upper lip situation. “It’s the mustache. Kinda hard to miss.”

Chris raises one eyebrow. “You know what else is hard?” he asks lewdly, rolling his hips.

Sebastian can’t stop himself – he lets out a helpless peal of laughter, throwing his head back and making it collide with the wall. He barely notices it, because the next thing he knows, Chris is on him, kissing up his throat and oh hello, okay, that feels weird. Good, but weird. He can’t even say why exactly it feels weird, since Chris’s beard used to tickle too, but somehow, when it’s just the ‘stache without the rest of it, it tickles more than it used to. Feels way more bristly like this.

Under Chris demanding mouth, Sebastian’s laugh morphs into a moan, and he slides down the wall a fraction, pressing into Chris and baring his neck a little further. Chris’s teeth scrape over his Adam’s apple, one of his hands wandering over Sebastian’s chest and squeezing at a pec.

“Sir,” Sebastian says, breathlessly scandalized. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“Just takin’ what I want.” Chris pulls back to look Sebastian in the eye, grabbing his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You got a problem with that, sweetheart?”

Sebastian gulps, blinking hard. “No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought,” Chris leers, leaning in to bite at Sebastian’s bottom lip and pulling at it with his teeth. At the same time, he runs his left hand down Sebastian’s side and abs, all the way down until it slips between his legs. He cups the growing hardness there, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Oh, fuck,” Sebastian breathes, hands flying up to Chris’s waist.

“How’s that feel, honey? You like that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yeah? You want me to keep touching you?”

“Yes.” Another mean squeeze. “Yes, please,” Sebastian amends quickly.

“How sweet.” Chris palms Sebastian’s dick again, tight and warm and so good, before abruptly pulling back his hand, leaving Sebastian to whimper and buck his hips. “Well, that’s tough, sweetheart,” Chris tells him, “‘cause you’re not gettin’ anything else till I decide you’ve earned it.”

Before Sebastian even has time to process that, Chris spins them around so that Chris is the one with his back against the wall, and then roughly pushes Sebastian down to his knees with a big hand on his shoulder.

Sebastian moans; a little for show, and a little because he genuinely likes being pushed around a bit. Usually, though, it takes Chris a lot longer to let go liken this. It tends to happen only when he’s getting close and his all he blood in his brain has relocated to his dick, but now, it seems that a little bit of clumsy role-play also does the trick.

Whatever it is, Sebastian thinks, he’ll be damned if he lets an opportunity like this pass him by.

Resting his hands on Chris thighs, Sebastian eagerly leans in to nuzzle at his crotch, mouthing at the hardening outline of his dick through his jeans. Chris hisses, hand scrabbling at Sebastian’s hair, trying to find purchase before seeming to realize that Sebastian’s hair is too short to grab right now (and doesn’t that make Sebastian suddenly regret cutting it immensely) and resorting to putting a hand over Sebastian’s face and just pushing him away instead.

“Did I say you could do that?” Chris’s asks. His usually easy voice is now laced with something dark, something almost menacing, sending a shiver down Sebastian’s spine.

He swallows hard, his throat suddenly dry, dick perking up eagerly inside his sweats. “No, sir. Sorry.”

“Damn right,” Chris mutters. “You’ll get it when I give it to you. Now, are you gonna be good for me?”

Sebastian sucks in a shaky breath. Goddamn.

“Are you?” Chris repeats, tapping Sebastian’s cheek to prompt him.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods, a little dazed. “Yeah, I’ll be good.” He watches, fascinated, as Chris’s right hand deftly flicks open the button on his jeans, before slowly pulling down his zipper, inch by excruciating inch. Sebastian finds himself willing Chris to go faster, to let him see what he’s got in his pants, which is ridiculous, because Sebastian knows what Chris has got in his pants. He should, seeing as he’s sucked it plenty of times. But somehow, what they’re doing here feels all kinds of new and exciting. Makes his breath come faster, eyes glued to the bulge in Chris’s jeans and mouth starting to water in anticipation.

Once his zip is down, Chris lowers his jeans a little, just enough so he can comfortably cup his dick, giving himself a teasing squeeze. “You want this?”

Sebastian tears his eyes away from it and looks up at Chris, who’s looking down at him with a sardonic smile on his face.

“Yes, please,” Sebastian says, feeling his eyes go big and round almost of their own volition.

Chris groans quietly, stroking Sebastian’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Look at you. Such a pretty guy.” A devilish glint appears in his eyes as he adds, “Be a shame if something got you all dirty, wouldn’t it?”

Oh, jesus.

While Sebastian can’t do anything but watch uselessly, Chris takes himself out of his underwear, pulling down his boxers enough to hook the waistband under his balls but otherwise remaining fully clothed. His dick is all the way hard already, flushed that pretty shade of pink Sebastian loves so much, wetness pearling at the exposed tip. Sebastian’s mouth literally waters so much he needs to swallow. Once again, he leans in to try and get his mouth on Chris, and once again Chris pushes him back with an admonishing hand to the face.

“Now, now. Don’t be greedy.”

Sebastian huffs impatiently behind Chris’s palm. “Please.”

Chris chuckles, taking hold of Sebastian’s chin again and running the pad of his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom lip. Sebastian doesn’t waste any time in letting his mouth drop open, something thrilling inside of him when Chris slides his thumb between his lips and presses down on his tongue. Sebastian closes his lips around the digit, moaning softly as he suckles at it. It’s not quite what he wants, but it’s still part of Chris inside of him, and he’ll take what he can get.

Sebastian is all set to protest again when Chris pulls his finger out, but before he can say anything, Chris shuts him right back up again by taking his cock in hand and literally rubbing it in Sebastian’s face.

Sebastian makes a shocked noise, eyes fluttering closed and mouth going slack. He moans, louder than before, and it’s not for show this time. Not even a little bit. Fire licks up his spine, his dick giving a desperate twitch inside his sweats. Fuck, but that’s hot. It’s downright filthy, the way the wetness leaking from Chris’s dick feels on his clean-shaven cheeks. Makes him feel dirty and owned, helpless, desperate for it.

“Open up,” Chris tells him, tapping his cheek. “Stick out your tongue.”

Sebastian does, and then--  Chris puts his dick on it. Just rests it there, not moving. Like he has all the time in the world. Oh, god.

“Stay still.”

Sebastian tries – he tries so hard to keep still, to be good and wait until Chris tells him he can move, but his tongue seems to have a mind of its own, rubbing lightly along the underside of Chris’s cock. The action causes it to spurt out some precome, which drips down his throat, making Sebastian swallow involuntarily. If asked, he’d swear he doesn’t shut his mouth on purpose, but if his lips closing around Chris’s shaft happens to make Chris groan and push in deeper, then that’s just a happy side effect.

“Suck it.” Chris’s voice has gone all low and rough now – and the order should sound stupid, like something out of a bad porn flick, but then this whole thing is kind of like a bad porn flick. And while that would usually be a turn off, right now, it’s setting Sebastian on fucking fire.

“I said, suck it,” Chris repeats, when Sebastian doesn’t obey right away, and presses in deeper, a little rough with it.

Sebastian jolts into action, moaning feverishly as he starts to suck Chris off as if his life depends on it. He uses his left hand, his tongue, his lips, and choking a little when he takes Chris too deep in one go –

And then suddenly, he’s being pushed back again.

Sebastian whines.

“Easy, tiger,” Chris clucks, a little condescending despite his breathlessness. “I said suck it, not slobber all over it like some horny teen that’s never seen a dick before.”

The rejection stings, but it’s a good sting; one that makes the back of Sebastian’s neck burn hot and his dick strain almost painfully against the material of his pants.

“You know,” Chris continues, rubbing the tip of his cock over Sebastian’s slick lips, almost absent-mindedly. “If you can’t control yourself, I’m gonna have to do it for you.” Not waiting for a reply, Chris grabs the back of Sebastian’s sweater and uses it to hold him in place. The neck of it strains against Sebastian’s throat when he tries to lean forward, causing him to draw in a raspy breath. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Sebastian whispers. He’s not sure if that’s the right answer, but it’s the honest answer, and the only one he’s got right now.

Chris shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Hooking his thumb over Sebastian’s bottom row of teeth, he pries his mouth open, forces his jaw down, and proceeds to feed his cock back into Sebastian’s mouth. And this time, he doesn’t stop until the head hits the back of his throat.

Despite having had a bit of practice, Sebastian’s gag reflex kicks in. He tries to swallows, and that makes Chris moan real pretty, so of course he does it again. Chris hips stutter and Sebastian’s eyelids flutter, and Chris pulls out before then sliding all the way back in again, over and over until Sebastian’s eyes start to water and his vision goes blurry.

When Chris tentatively thrusts in a little deeper still, a little rougher and less controlled, Sebastian lets out what is quite probably the most wanton sound he’s ever made.

“Ohh,” Chris muses, low and a little mean. “You like that, huh? Like it when you’re chokin’ on my dick? Yeah, ‘course you do, pretty little thing like you.”

Ho-ly-shit. They’re no strangers to a bit of dirty talk, but this… this feels different. It’s borderline degrading, what Chris is saying and doing, and Sebastian finds himself going wild for it.

Who knew.

Undoubtedly noticing Sebastian’s reaction, Chris does it again, pushing in deep and holding there until Sebastian starts to splutter. “Take it, all of it,” Chris orders, sounding almost unaffected. “Thought you wanted it, huh? C’mon, open wider. Yeah, that’s it.”

Feeling hot all over, Sebastian does his best to do what is asked of him. He opens his throat and relaxes as best he can, breathing harshly through his nose while he takes what Chris is giving him. He honestly might come in his pants any minute now, just from this. Chris’s cock is hard and heavy on his tongue, dripping down his throat, his familiar, musky scent everywhere, clouding Sebastian’s brain with screaming lust. One big hand rests heavy on Sebastian’s shoulder, fingers digging almost painfully into his trapezius muscle, and Sebastian’s knees hurt, and his jaw hurts, and he’s sore, and he’s gonna be even more sore later, but right now, he doesn’t care.

He feels good, amazing even. The only thing that’s missing now is seeing Chris fall apart. He wants Chris to come so badly, more so even than he wants to come himself, that he can feel it all the way down in his toes.

He doesn’t notice that his cheeks are wet until Chris brings up a hand to wipe at the tear tracks, meanwhile keeping up the relentless rhythm of his hips, steadily pumping in and out.

“Hey.”

Sebastian turns his eyes up, meeting Chris dark and heated gaze, misty through the tears. For a split second, Chris looks at him like himself, quickly cataloguing Sebastian’s condition, before seeming to decide they’re still on the same page. His eyes turn mean again, and Sebastian’s already racing heart skips a beat.

Chris coos then, a soft aaww which makes Sebastian feel equal parts cherished and pathetic. “Should see yourself, honey. Cryin’ and drooling all over my cock…” Chris thumbs at the corner of Sebastian’s mouth, wet with a mixture of spit and tears and Chris’s slick. “Jesus, you’re a mess.”

The words are condescending, but Chris’s voice sounds awed despite himself, and Sebastian is lit up with it from the inside out. He can tell Chris is getting close. Can hear it in his breathing, feel it from the way his thrusts get sloppier and rougher, dick occasionally slipping out and rubbing against Sebastian’s cheek before making its home in his eager mouth again.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” Chris groans, fingers tightening impossibly on Sebastian’s shoulder. “Gonna make me come. Shit.”

Sebastian moans, letting Chris know how much he wants that, willing him to go faster.

Chris curses again, breathless now, heavy lidded eyes locked on Sebastian’s. “So close, f-fuck. Gonna come all over that pretty face, baby. Ahh, fuck yeah.”

Chris thrusts in deeply one last time, his mouth dropping open. Sebastian feels the first spurt of his release hit the back of his throat, before Chris hastily pulls out and lets the rest of it spill on Sebastian’s face. Come hits his cheeks, his nose, drips down into his mouth, warm and wet and Chris. It’s accompanied by an acute sense of accomplishment, making Sebastian feel boneless and sated, like he’s the one who just blew his load.

As if his strings have been cut, Chris slumps, sliding down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor. His eyes, still a little wild with the remnants of his ecstasy, roam over Sebastian’s face, wide like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, grabbing Sebastian’s head between his hands and kissing him, deep and filthy. His tongue pushes in, hot and demanding, licking the taste of himself out of Sebastian’s slack mouth. The mustache is rough against Sebastian’s face. It stings a little, and Sebastian relishes it.

Abruptly, Chris breaks the kiss only to pull him closer, practically into his lap. Sebastian is mostly boneless at this point, except for the bit between his legs, so he lets himself be pulled and arranged like a ragdoll until he’s sandwiched between Chris’s spread thighs.

Chris’s hand fumbles with the drawstring on Sebastian’s sweats, sticking a hand down his pants. When his fingers wrap around his aching dick, Sebastian nearly sobs with relief. He hadn’t even realized how desperate for release he was, too focused on Chris’s pleasure to even register his own need, but now that Chris is touching him, finally touching him, the need to come slams into him like a freight train. The angle is awkward, and Sebastian has trouble breathing because his throat hurts and Chris is still trying to sucking his face off, but it doesn’t matter. He is so on edge that after only a few strokes, he cries out and shoots off all over Chris’s hand. He buries his face in Chris’s neck, mouth open and slack against the warm skin beneath Chris’s ear, while he rides out the aftershocks.

Christ, that was good.

An indeterminate amount of time later, Chris starts rubbing circles over Sebastian’s back. It’s a calming gesture, soothing. Apologetic. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “Did I hurt you?”

Sebastian takes stock of his body. He’s sore as hell, but it’s a good kind of sore. Nothing hurts, in the bad sense of the word. “I’m okay,” he slurs, only it comes out more like, “Mmmhfgk.”

“You sure?” Chris presses. “‘Cause I – I got a little carried away there. Fuck, I didn’t even check if that was okay, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian scoffs, lifting his head. If there’s one thing Sebastian is certain of, it’s that Chris would have stopped immediately if Sebastian had given even the slightest indication that he wasn’t having a good time. He fixes Chris with a hard look – or at least, as hard as he’s capable of in his post-orgasmic state. “Did I look like it wasn’t okay? That was so hot, Chris. It was like, maximum okay.”

Chris makes a sound, reaching up to wipe at Sebastian’s cheeks with his sleeve. “Jesus, Seb.” He still looks a little stunned, wide-eyed and red-cheeked. The mustache makes him look a little dumb, and Sebastian really does kind of love it.

He lifts a finger, gently stroking it over the bristly hairs.

“Thanks for making me feel better about this thing,” Chris says, his eyes back to being soft and loving now.

Sebastian shakes his head. “My pleasure, believe me. I mean, I’m a little concerned about myself, but I’m glad it stopped you worrying.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“’Course not,” Sebastian replies, patting Chris’s chest.

They sit there for a moment, catching their breath and allowing their minds to unmuddle themselves.

Suddenly, Sebastian jolts upright. “Oh, shit.”

Chris is on instant alert, gaze sharpening as he takes Sebastian in from head to toe. “What is it?” he asks, obviously assuming Sebastian has suddenly discovered that Chris did hurt him after all. “What’s wrong?”

“Your beer.”

Chris blinks at him. “My beer?”

“It’s still in the freezer. It’s only supposed to be in there for like, fifteen minutes tops.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Fuck the beer,” he says, pulling Sebastian back into his chest.

“But what if it explodes and ruins my freezer?”

“I’ll buy you a new freezer, jeez. Dork.”

“Hey,” Sebastian scolds mildly. “Don’t forget I’m the dork who just made you come your brains out.”

“Trust me,” Chris says, leaning in to kiss him again. “I’m not forgetting that any time soon.”

Read on AO3

[hismercytomyjustice]

Updated pinned intro post! Hi! Welcome to my tumblr!

If you're only following me/checking in for sneak peeks for The Signal that Beckons, I'll be posting them on Tuesdays. You can search my tags for "sneak peek" or click this link instead.

Fic Masterlist and About Me below the cut!

You can find me at ao3 at eternalscout!

Current Fandoms I Write For: BG3, Hazbin Hotel

Past Fandoms I've Written For: Pacific Rim, WWDITS, WTNV, Cardcaptor Sakura, Promare

My Favorite Fics: You can find my favorite fics that I've read separated into collections here!

Ongoing Fics/Series:

Tumblr tags refer to posts I’ve made about my fics/writing process, if that’s of interest to you.

To Be the Perfect Angel, Some Sin Must Be Done

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Radioapple (Alastor/Lucifer)

Rating: Explicit, Mature

Words: 66k+

Status: Ongoing Series, Currently 6 parts

Tumblr Tag: to be the perfect angel

Summary: Idiots in love. Lucifer is press ganged into helping everyone get Alastor to rest while he continues to heal from his fight with Adam. Includes dancing, a bet on who can go the longest without using their powers, the consequences of said bet, elements of BDSM, and feelings being caught.

The Signal that Beckons

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: None

Rating: Mature

Words: Expected to be ~60k, Estimating 12 chapters

Status: Ongoing

Tumblr Tag: the signal that beckons

Summary: What if Alastor’s fight with Adam ended…differently? What if he was “purified” instead to the last moment he could have been redeemed? And, unfortunately for him, that was when he was only eleven.

Completed Multi-Chapter Fics:

Ancient Books and Horror Stories 

Note: I'm planning to do some oneshots for this fic too and will include them in my ongoing section once I do.

Fandom: BG3

Pairing: Bloodweave (Gale/Astarion)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 100k, 18 chapters

Status: Complete

Tumblr Tag: ancient books and horror stories

Summary: Slow burn. Tadpoled acquaintances to friends to lovers. Takes place during the events of BG3. The boys initially bond over books, but then gradually open up to one another and help each other heal from their trauma.

Blue Moon on the Rise

Fandom: Cardcaptor Sakura

Pairing: Yukito/Touya/Yue

Rating: Mature

Words: 54k, 25 chapters

Status: Complete

Tumblr Tag: N/A

Summary: Sakura fails the Final Judgment. Everyone forgets about the Cards, and the person they love most. A new candidate must be chosen. Unfortunately for Touya, it looks like he's next on the list.

If you’re thinking about following me, I should warn you that I post and reblog A LOT. I also treat my tumblr like a journal, so I have a lot of personal posts, usually under cuts. 

I’m nonbinary (they/them), demisexual, and bisexual/pansexual (I use the terms interchangeably because pansexuality was wildly misunderstood when I was younger). Also very recently realized I’m demiromantic! I post/reblog a lot about all of the above.

I’m in my 30s (ancient for the internet, I know) and only recently started getting back into Tumblr after a 10 year absence.

Fun fact! My username is a quote from my favorite book of all time, The King of Attolia by Megan Whalen Turner.

If you’re curious, full quote is: 

“Yet you prefer his mercy to my justice.” She meant the king. She knew where the message had come from.

The current fandoms I'm obsessed with are Hazbin Hotel, Helluva Boss, Interview with the Vampire, BG3, Pacific Rim, Phantom of the Opera, Epic the Musical, Dracula Daily, Dead Boy Detectives, and Stardew Valley.

My other major interests include true crime, crochet, and musicals!

I also talk A LOT about mental health/illness on here. I have OCD and ADHD, and the jury is still out on autism, so trigger warnings for all that mess. I try to tag these posts accordingly and also tend to put them under cuts. 

Writing stuff out (especially in regard to my OCD) helps me process and better understand it. It also feels less stressful and easier for me to do it on here spur of the moment instead of massively overthinking it and trying to force myself to use a more formal outlet. Most importantly, it helps me destigmatize it a bit in my own head.

Those kinds of posts are purely for my own benefit, but if you decide to read any of them and want to comment or something, feel free! I know this is a public space and I don’t post stuff I’m not comfortable with someone else potentially seeing.

If you’ve decided to stick around anyway, feel free to yell about my favorite things with me! I LOVE yelling about my favorite things!

[zeldaelmo]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by my wonderful friend @bahbahhh.

__

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

77

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,215

My goal for 2023 was to hit the 500,000 and I'm positive I'll reach it.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Legend of Zelda, all games apart from Zelda I, II, and Minish Cap (because I haven't played them so far)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

How to name a royal child

Stolen Kisses

Strangers in the Night

It's in his Kiss

Flour, water, salt, yeast, love

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Uh... in theory, I do. I love getting comments but I often feel stupid saying ten times 'thank you' in a row, so I end up answering mostly when I have something to say.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That would be Lonely at the Top. I don't really write angsty endings, but this one is hurt/no comfort as it tackles Link visiting the Light Dragon who doesn't even react to him.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hm...I'm not too fond of the fanfic version of the perfect happy ending, namely, proposal, sappy wedding, and omg, twins!, mainly because I love the nuance life teaches us. What a happy ending for a fic and a character is, is so often much more different than the fairy tale version.

That being said, I'd still go with Strangers in the Night, just because the two worked so damn hard for their happy ending.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Hate is a big word, but I get negative comments and sometimes they are even personal, yes. Most people are lacking reading competence and/or don't understand how stories work. I mostly ignore those. Sometimes I complain on discord if it's very annoying. If someone insults me, I block.

I don't think that has to do so much with me, though. I have 1,346 comment threads on my stories. Of course, there are some idiots among them, that's life.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, occasionally. I think ten of 77 fics are explicit. Look, the thing is, I'm a story teller. So if the smut doesn't add to the story, I don't tell it. Rule of thumb is, that I keep it to a T-rating if possible to make the story accessible to most people. I only go for explicit stuff if I want to deliver some part of the character development/plot with the intimacy (or the lack of lol) that the smut offers.

Does that get me the most Kudos? No. But I'm not here for that or I wouldn't bother writing for 30 years old games. I'm here to tell a good story and have fun. :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No. If you've read so far, I can tell you a secret as a reward: I find crossovers pointless. Ooops.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I am aware of! But I'd love to! Big fan of accessibility!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I've seen a few writing collabs end in fandom drama or otherwise go awry, so I decided that I only collab with artists. I might try with something short one day, but nothing novel-length.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Take a guess.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Ah, so I have a half-written novel in my drafts. A story about writer!Zelda and fanartist!Link who are also princess and beloathed bodyguard. I'm very determined to go back to that one after I finished The Promise, but I'm a little scared. The story is complicated and my thoughts are chaotic. I already asked @mistresslrigtar to help me work it out next year, so I hope we'll manage.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue and showing what's going on in the character's head who's not the POV character.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with simplicity sometimes, mainly because of the language barrier. I write something that's horribly complicated and I just know there must be a better way to put it, but I can't figure it out. Grammar is hard, lads.

I also have a weird relationship with descriptions. I love having characters interact with their environment but I loath big chunks of description. I plan to work on this during my traditional holiday self-study break.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is a weirdly specific question, but ok.

If you don't happen to write a book that's supposed to teach beginners the other language, then don't. You might end up othering the person who's speaking and that's something you don't want to dabble with lightly.

I already talked about accessibility: You will exclude people from your writing and you don't want that just to sound cool. If you must for plot reasons, make otherwise sure everyone is on board. Slightly different case if you actively hide something from your readers (and other characters), but that's probably not the most common case.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

LoZ

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

I refuse to answer this. 77 fics are too much to choose from. I love most of them.

_

tagging: @mistresslrigtar, @airplanned, @jenseits-der-sterne, @silentprincess17, @deiliamedlini, @skyyknights

[kydrogendragon]

I saw the writing ask, if you're doing it: 13 or 30

Took me forever to find the post again! My Tumblr did not want to show it to me, lol

13. Rate your worldbuilding skills from 1 to 10.

Hmm . . . I thought on this one for a bit. See, on one hand, there are some authors and writers out there that deserve a true 10 (or higher) that come to mind, like Tolkien with the expansive universe and such he had created. And those seem very "Heavy In Worldbuilding" type stories. But worldbuilding still comes into play for stories set in our normal world as we know it too, of course, not just fantasy settings 😅

So after pondering worldbuilding in general for probably far too long, I'm thinking I'll go to a solid 5. I feel like I'm decent at world building and considering different aspects of the world my stories take place in and how that might affect things, but I know I've a lot of room for improvement in that regard. There's been many cases where people would comment or theorize on different things and how it might affect the story that I hadn't ever even thought of! So, probably at my current skill level, pretty average, I think.

30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't

Oh gods, so many. Of which, many are in WIP status because I'll feel bad if I day they're abandoned 🤣 But let's see, what's a good one that I don't think I'll get around to writing . . .

I really wanted to try writing a classic fake-dating, only one bed trope filled fic with Dreamling. Very Hallmark Movie-esque with Hob not wanting to deal with his family and grandparents and everyone asking when he's "going to bring someone home again" and "you deserve to have another chance at happiness" and "Elle would want you to try again" and "I don't want to see you all alone, it's not good for you." And Hob's just . . . Done with it all. He's not sure he can handle another holiday filled with those comments, so when his Ma calls, confirming when he's coming down for Christmas and asks if it's just him, he lies and says no. It's not. He's bringing his partner.

And then freaks out once he hangs up and realizes what he's done.

I had the thought of him meeting Dream on the way there. Both of them waiting at the train station to get out into the countryside. The trains running late. Snow's coming down pretty quickly. Dream's miserable and Hob overhears his argument over the phone with someone (Desire? Death? Night?) before growling out that "he would have a better holiday keeled over in a ditch on the side of the road than if he spent a single minute within any of your company." And aggressively (as aggressive as one can with a smartphone) hangs up. He starts gathering his items, looking ready to head back to London when Hob speaks before his brain can tell him it's a terrible plan.

He asks Dream—without even knowing the man's name—to come spend the holidays with him. Says there's gonna be good food, a cozy fireplace, a cute cat, and that no one should have to spend the season alone, even if their family sucks.

Dream, fresh off his most recent failure of a relationship with Thessaly, feeling more depressed than his usual baseline, and a tad more comfortable than he should with the idea that this man could very well be a serial killer, agrees. He shouldn't. Death's voice rings in his head, telling him this is how true crime podcasts start, this is how horror movies start. But he finds he can't even bring himself to care.

They talk a bit over the train ride, small things. Hob does most of the talking. Then Hob brings up the fact that he may have told his Ma he was bringing a date.

Dream bristles at that, they get into a quietly heated argument on the train but the fight soon leaves him. Perhaps this is the only way someone could "love" him: faked for their sake. Untrue. A lie. But it's better than nothing.

So to that, he also agrees. Hob's shocked through this whole thing and feeling guilty about basically conning this man into being his "boyfriend". But then, in classic rom-com fashion, they start to truly fall in love, though convinced the other isn't. There's probably a good portion of arguments and rubbing each other the wrong way, of course. And intentional embarrassment of each other too.

But it's when Christmas morning comes around and the whole family is having fun and laughing and watching each other open gifts that one of Hob's little cousins hands him a small, flat package with his name in fancy script. He blinks, confused as he sees the "From" field filled in with Dream's name.

"I thought we said we weren't giving each other anything?" Hob asks, brow quirked upward, wondering when the hell this man even had time to get him a gift. (Then a spark of fear, wondering what the hell is in this package. Especially after their fight the night before.)

Dream says nothing, of course, just silently watches with an intensity Hob's begun to grow fond of, hands curled around a warm mug of hot cocoa, still clad in the set of matching PJ'S Hob's mother had bought them both.

Hob peels back the shiny red wrapping paper to find a single sheet of thicker paper. On it, a wonderfully sketched and rendered image of Hob's very own face rests. He's smiling, wrapped up with the beanie and scarf combination he'd worn on their outing to the tree farm earlier. It takes his breath away.

"Turn it over," Dream commands quietly, the sound of joyous laughter and activity nearly drowns his deep voice out.

On the back is that same, neat script. There's a letter addressed to him. His eyes barely get through the first sentence before he tears up.

"I have grown far fonder of you this past week than would be advisable, but as I have found throughout my life, the heart rarely cares for such matters of the mind. You aggravate me, Hob Gadling. You, with your overly cheerful morning greetings and terrible singing. You, with your propensity for listening to the same three Christmas songs on repeat and a ludacris appetite for sweets. You, who would visit the Queen of England in nothing more than coderoy trousers and a secondhand sweater vest. There are countless reasons I should only feel disdain for you. Had we met in any other fashion, I doubt we would have ever wished to speak with one another again.

And yet . . . And yet, I find myself smiling when I hear your voice above the falling water in the bathroom. And yet I find myself humming along to the words to Deck the Halls, a song I had never known the lyrics to before this year. And yet I find myself enjoying the warmth and comfort one finds wrapped in your arms, pressed against those very sweater vests.

You confuse me, Hob Gadling. You are the antithesis of everything I have ever sought in others, but perhaps that is why I now find myself falling for you. You who understand me at a level I find terrifying. You who is unafraid to push me when I need pushing, to guard me when the world is more than I can handle.

I believe I am falling in love with you, Hob. And that terrifies me. But, perhaps, you have started to feel the same?"

Hob, of course, all but falls into Dream's lap and kisses the man, earning a whooping holler from his brother. Be he doesn't care. Because he has Dream, something he thought impossible.

Writing Ask Game

[echo-echo31]

Zion makes dinner. Androids can't eat. :3 I know we've talked about this idea in the past but it would be cute to see it in writing.

tw: suggestive :3

Zion switches the heat off with a swipe of his hand, lifting the frying pan and using the sleek metal spatula to transfer the eggs onto the black stoneware plates. The stovetop chimes in acknowledgment as Zion takes two of them in hand, walking over to the marble-effect table.

He looks down at the plate as he places it on the table, too close to be able to make eye contact with the android taking up the seat. He feels his heart rate quicken as he places the other plate in front of you, smiling a little as you grab your cutlery, and straight away start to tuck into the breakfast.

It's only when he collects his own plate, turning around to face you and Alpha, that he realises the android is staring at him. His immediate reaction is panic. Alpha is there, arms crossed at his chest, one eyebrow raised as you carry on eating, completely oblivious to the stand-off that is happening across the kitchen.

Thoughts start to circle in Zion's head, fixating on the idea that he's done something wrong, fucked up somehow. It takes a good 30 more seconds of Alpha's unblinking stare for Zion's mind to stitch back together enough for him to form a sentence.

"You...you don't like eggs?"

The way a smug, amused smile creeps up Alpha's face makes his stomach curl so fast he almost grabs onto the countertop.

"I want you to do something for me, Zion," That smooth, commanding voice makes his grip on the plate tighten, a million possibilities running through his head that he has to almost bite his tongue off in order to suppress.

"W-what? What do you need...I can cook something else..." He trails off as Alpha leans back, his 6"6 frame taking up space effortlessly.

"I want you to think about something for me. I know it's difficult for you...this early in the morning," The deliberate pause between words only seems to worsen Zion's situation, "Can you tell me what I am, Zion?"

Zion has to blink away the first answer that comes to mind.

"I...er...you're an android, sir?" He replies, unsure of himself despite the obviousness of the answer. Of course, he's an android. He's a machine, a perfect imitation...fuck.

"Oh shit," Zion states, suddenly realising his mistake all at once. Alpha nods, still with that annoyingly attractive smile, and they both look down at the plate of very human food in front of him.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I forgot...shit," He walks over to the table, planning on removing the plate whilst an embarrassed blush starts to develop on his skin.

"Wait, I'll eat it if he won't" He turns towards your voice, the plate of eggs he'd given you already nearly finished. He's going to get you back for not reminding him that Alpha doesn't eat food.

As he's straightening back up, planning on excusing himself to go and hide in shame and probably talk to himself in the bathroom mirror again, Alpha grabs hold of his upper arm. The grip is barely there, and yet it seems to burn through Zion.

"Don't worry, sweet boy. I appreciate the sentiment, and I can make it up to you later,"

He releases him and Zion does excuse himself then, but for entirely different reasons.

[sizhui]

hi angie!! im jjst chilling today but today i plan to go out n buy my bday books!!!

anyways as a fellow bl intellectual i would like to ask u what u think abt general bl stock characters / archetypes!! also as someone whos doing shakespeare this year im curious abt how u would blend currently existing bl story formats w like more traditional lit genres / conevtuons IF YOU COULD!! WOULD U!!

how do u think bl being a mostly Not white people thing has affected its conventions like idk emotional intensity, typical tropes idk!!

looks at u like this 🥺

HELLO DEAR LAB!!!! i saw your birthday books, very good choices, i hope you'll enjoy! Now let us discuss one BL intellectual to another ^_^ as usual, I'll stick to danmei, since I'm simply not well read in Japanese and Korean BL to speak confidently even though I have experience with them...!

When googling people's favorite tropes, most people mentioned Enemies to Lovers. I do like a good conflict, but I like very specific shades of it... I like characters who are ideological opposites, but still hold some affection for each other since early on... Although i have been interested in thousand autumns in which the two leads start as straight up bitter enemies, so I'll see how I'm going to like that! Now, something slightly different that i really enjoy is characters being thematic opposites - demonic cultivator and orthodox cultivator, god and demon, soldier and librarian you name it! I have seen people call this the yin yang trope i don't know if that's a widely used term? I also enjoy slow burn - see Golden Terrace disappointed me in that regard cause they started sleeping together in like chapter 30 come on where is the drama the intrigue :(? I don't care for friends to lovers much unless it's written really well but i really much prefer strangers to lovers!!! A lot of people sigh at the trope of one Character being like "I don't like men it's..only for you ❤️" but i honestly think that's a convention you just have to accept when diving into the world of BL. I like badass shous that aren't annoyingly shy and talkative, charming gongs (sorry lan zhan is ok but strong and silent gongs usually piss me off) I'm probably one of the 5 western fans who actually like the gong/shou dynamic because like. Let's be honest there's nothing wrong with seme/uke in JPN bl either other than ukes being drawn as shotabait often, but since novel art for CN novels usually draws everyone looking like adults I really don't see anything problematic with gong/shou, heteronormativity my ass... i also kinda like when they call each other husband and wife SORRY. I also like the trope of the couple adopting a young boy. I'm not gonna call it found family I'm not gonna even try. I hate master/disciple and i hate school settings. I usually prefer the characters to be rougher men already hardened by life! I like reincarnation and revenge but i don't like Isekai ... Ummm what else is there? Nothing comes to mind rn , if you have some specific tropes you want me to rate, I'm here :)

NOW YOUR SECOND QUESTION HAS ME REALLY INTRIGUED...if i could, i would merge literally every literary genre with BL to be honest. Since you specifically mentioned Shakespeare, i think it would be fucking amazing to see BL adapted into stage plays - i don't mean those funny anime stage plays, i mean straight up tragedies on Hamlet level. Oh i would kill to see that!!! I would also love to see like, someone with an interest in narratology and metafiction write a super meta BL novel like enstars but like really properly yaoi. I don't think that danmei novels written by amateurs have "bad writing" - they simply exist on a different terrain and seek to communicate different ideas from traditional published novels, but i would love to see the two merged in some spectacular novel that takes inspiration from classics!!

Now your third question i would rather turn into a discussion with you, because while I've consumed a lot of East Asian media since a young age i don't claim to have such a good understanding of the cultures to be able to trace how the culture influenced BL literary conventions, but I would love to hear your thoughts on it and compare to what i know! I definitely find it interesting to compare East Asian BL with LGBT media made by white Americans and Europeans, cause they tend to rely on very different things, with American and European gay content being very focused on the issue of homophobia and stuff like family and cheating and coming of age, while Asian BL, despite tackling those sometimes, is more internal conflict-driven, less focused on orientation. I actually prefer it a lot for that - there are only so many coming of age homophobia stories i can watch -_- boring! I see some western fans annoyed that Asian BL rarely discusses orientation and stuff like LGBT solidarity and such, but i like, don't care cause i feel like they're too focused on realism and forget that bl is a genre not meant to perfectly mirror irl gay relationships, but rather provide romantic fantasies for women! Something just came to mind, i recently chatted with a classmate who is a white American, and she said that she finds Asian media confusing because emotional intensity seems amplified to her in anime and donghua, and that she just feels that emotions are expressed differently than in the American media she's used to. I think she's weak and stupid for giving up on watching just because it's different from what she's used to, but since you mentioned emotional intensity, i would like to hear your thoughts about it!

I hope my answer wasn't disappointing, and looking forward to hearing back from you!

[inkofamethyst]

March 8, 2023

No one would ever get this out of me irl but I very occasionally, at the peripheries of my thoughts wonder what might have been if I had agreed to go out with that guy from biochem. (Can you tell that Hadestown has had an effect? This is dizzying. Next thing you know I'm going to be begging to have a crush (but also I'm very picky about my crushes bc they can't be undergrads (lol tbf I'm only barely not an undergrad myself), they can't be in my department, and they have to be someone I see somewhat regularly (no passerby crushes)).) Because part of the reason I said no was fear and part of it was that I was in excruciating pain when we had that study date (mostly the fear though), and then there was also the whole being devastated about not getting to show off that solo that I worked really hard on. Bad vibes all around. But he wasn't a bad guy. I was just scared.

Even still, I can't seem to remember his name.

[edit, next day: I wrote the above last night and you would not believe the butterflies I got today when all I did was make eye contact with some (very attractive) dude before a class. Ridiculous. (I have the need to catch his eye again.) This is gonna be like bike-boy from junior year lol. Or the caving dude, also from junior year (literally who did I think I was, trying to go caving just to get close to a man??? Lowkey still wish I'd been able to get in on that trip, but alas).]

God, I really cannot dance. Was recently informed that alum from my undergrad uni would be restricted in their GDrive space so I went in and culled (will ultimately have to remove half of what I have stored) a bit. In early pandemic days there was some Broadway challenge (it was basically a big ad but it was fun and free (and very successful, incredibly marketed), so) where each week you'd have to take time to learn a song or dance or something and post it and I saved my dance video to my uni GDrive and it's AWFUL. Like the steps are all there, I can remember them (because I drilled it hard) but I'm so clunky lookin--it's dreadful. IT'S SO BADDD. (keep in mind it was newsies though so like it is bad but the choreo isn't helping either) But. If nothing else, I keep that smile on lock(down). I haven't watched any of the theatre tapes from high school but that doesn't make me excited to see them, beyond hating the recorded sound of me singing, bleh.

Found out what next year's stipend numbers are going to be and there's still literally no way I'd be able to make it work with my current savings rates (25% (also I'll be increasing my estimated taxes to 30% from 25%)) without help. It feels kind of weird to say this because I truly miss my grandmother so much like it's not even funny, but she's helping me so much right now.

Want to make a text-based, randomized, hunger-games-style battle royale game in python for my friends to play. In a different life, I think I could've been a game dev. Literally. Writing, music, computer science (I don't really do visual arts though). To be fair, like, there's nothing stopping me from trying. On the side, just for fun, coming up with minigames. I think I'd need to become like Brandon Sanderson though, where I relax by doing something (actually, now that I think about it, I'm not that far off, it's just that I don't have a ton of access to my favorite hobbies rn (music, sewing, etc)).

Today I'm thankful for how beautiful biology can be sometimes. I love how we find reflections of the same ideas at all levels!!! Recently I was thinking about multicellular organisms, and how they're just a bunch of different cell types that have different jobs with the goal of all working toward the greater good of staying alive together. And you don't just see this in things like animals! There are unicellular organisms that form colonies when times get tough, and they sometimes will even divide out work amongst themselves. And at the multi-organismal level, people banded together during those early days of covid to make sure the elderly were fed, that we were getting fitness classes, that we could see performances. And I know this is a basic idea in biology, but that doesn't stop it from being beautiful.

[edit: I finished all of my pre-spring break homework!!!! Let the breaking begin!!!!]

[caffiend-queen]

Hey! 🥰

I love your work and was wondering if you have any tips for someone hoping to get their book published? I’ve written something but haven’t a clue how to go about copy write/who to approach. Any help would be amazing. Your stories always help me escape when I need it so thank you for that 😘

I'm so glad you're thinking of publishing! I'd be happy to help, though there's certainly more successful authors here. My experience is only through self-publishing, so that’s what I can share with you.

I'll list out as many sources as I can, this might get a little long... Tumblr besties, feel free to share with anyone thinking about publishing their books, or please offer advice that’s helped you succeed. I'm not an expert, but I can share what worked for me.

Your first step is deciding where you want to publish it. Kindle Books on Amazon.com has given me 99% of my sales. It might be worth trying it out first and putting your book into KDP Select, which means you can only sell through Amazon for a 90-day period, but you have a more favorable search algorithm with Amazon and access to Kindle promotions. Start an author account on KDP.com. You can format your book for publication through their free app Kindle Create. There's lots of answers to your questions here.

When you're ready to move into other book sites, or maybe you don't want to be bound to Kindle alone, there's several others that have great potential. Rather than setting up an account on each one, you can get a free account with Draft2Digital They can help you convert your manuscript from Word.doc or PDF to ePub and MOBI and then help you distribute your books to several different outlets, like Barnes & Noble, Apple Books, KOBO, etc. So much easier!

Your second step: have you thought about a cover? Your cover and your "back cover blurb" are hugely important to your success. KDP does have a free cover maker, but if you want something higher quality, think about Fiverr.com. Check out their book cover designers. Pick one that is familiar with Kindle book formatting. Most cover artists there are very quick and very inexpensive. Mine never cost more than $20-$30.

It helps to go on Amazon and take a look at the competition. What do the books look like in the category you want to sell in? How do they write their blurbs? Kindlepreneur.com has excellent free courses on categories, covers, and a million other helpful topics. PS: you will find out that categories are KEY to book sales and visibility.

Your third step: when you do finally launch your book ask everyone you know to review your book or at least leave a rating. This is one I'm still struggling with, but reviews and ratings are really, REALLY crucial to your success. It helps to add an author's account on Goodreads.com, which is associated with Amazon and is very popular with readers. It's another good way to start your fanbase. (I even nag my sisters into reading and reviewing, though it kills me to know they’re reading my smut. They usually give me five stars, aside from one sister who will NEVER give me higher than four stars because, “she doesn’t want it to look like she’s giving me an easy five because we’re related.” She is pure evil.)

Your fourth step: advertising? Personally, I find most advertising didn't work for me, It was also very expensive. You're better off building an email list and collaborating to build your audience base. Nick Stephenson has some free videos and tutorials that were really helpful for me.

So... hopefully, that'll get you started and help you on your way. Please let me know when you're getting ready to launch. It's really helpful to have your book listed for free for two or three days when you launch to push your book higher in the category search. And please alert me, so I can read it and review and share with everyone here.

Good luck! You got this, baby!