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kaylopolis · 3 months

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Eleven

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers, This chapter might be extremely triggering to some readers. I struggle with panic attacks and designed this chapter to emulate what I go through when I experience one. It also implies a history of abuse. If you wish to skip that particular section but still want to read, there will be a warning before and a note of where to pick up after.

Another short one before things get good!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Eleven - Lucifer's Visit

Content Warning: Minors DNI! Mentions of Substance Abuse, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Panic Attack

“Here, drink this,” Angel handed you a cup as you sat up in bed. “It’ll help.”

You brought the smokey liquid to your lips, it burned on the way down. He had given you a glass of straight whiskey. You welcomed the pain, it helped ground you.

“What happened?” He wiped the hair sticking to your face.

You sniffed, looking down at the glass. You had spent the entire night crying and when it was over you didn’t feel like talking much. So, Angel grabbed his laptop and the two of you watched a movie in bed.

Now it was morning - time to face the elephant in the room.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.”

“Try me,” he sat back on the bed, leaning against one of the wooden pillars.

You told him everything, and when you were done, all he could do was stare at you.

“So, let me get this straight. You kissed Alastor?” His jaw dropped. “Yous was right. I don’t believe ya’."

“I just told you I was an Angel tasked with hunting down Eve on Earth for the past hundred years and that’s what you’re focusing on?”

“Well, yeah? I don’t give a shit about that. Frankly, it explains a lot. But you’re in Hell, kid. There ain’t a pure soul down here. Fuck, Alastor murdered people for a livin’ and then ate ‘em. I really don’t think he’d care that ya’ were some big and important Angel who ditched Heaven for a vacation in Hell. Lucifer literally did the same fuckin’ thang.”

“That’s not the part I’m worried about. The kind of power I have isn’t acquired by a soul deal. I don’t really have one like Human Sinners do.” You breathed. “The power I have you take through death.”

“Ooooooh, you’re worried he’s gonna try to kill ya’.” Angel finished for you.

You told him about Carmilla and how Velvette was able to do that much damage to you. “If he knew how easy it would be to take what I have...”

You didn’t tell Angel about the tattoo, about what you took from Eve when you found her, because you did find her. That would be too much even for Angel to handle. Rosie went an entire week thinking you were yanking her chain before she finally realized you were serious.

“Wait, why are you at the Hotel?”

“I don’t even know anymore…” you covered your face in your hands.

“Wow,” Angel gawked. “This is like a fucking Soap Opera.”

“What have I done, Angel?” You sniffed. “I shoulda just gone back to the Seraphim and told her what happened. Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Or you’d be dead,” Angel pointed out. “From what it sounds like, Heaven isn’t all rainbows and sunshine. They’re fucked up too.”

“Yeah…” you wiped your eyes.

“You should tell him.”

“What!?”

“I know how this is going to go. You’re gonna go down there and torture yourself the entire time Lucifer is visitin’. Ya’ gonna do everything you can to avoid him - barely even look at 'em. And for what? Because he may or may not reject you after knowing the truth? Ya' don’t know what he’s gonna do, dollface. Unless you tell him. He tries to kill you afterward, then ya' have your answer, but at least you aren’t torturin' yourself in fuckin’ limbo with the whole ‘will he, won’t he’ bullshit!”

He’s right.

“I’m right, and you know it.”

Fucker.

“When is Lucifer do?”

Angel checked his phone. “Any minute.”

“Fuck,” you jumped up from your bed and ran for the door, completely ignoring the fact that you looked like a mess and wearing the same clothes as yesterday...

“Wait! You're doin’ this right now!?” Angel called after you.

“You’re right! Besides, if Lucifer recognizes me, it’s game over. Better Alastor hear it from me beforehand.” You fly to the foyer - static licking down your spine - making it halfway down the stairs before Lucifer’s voice finds you.

“Ahaha. Well, it's not very clever!

“Ha, ha! Fuck you.”

Oh, no! He was already here!

Charlie jumps in between the two of them. “Okay! Okay, anyway. Dad, look at this lovely parlor where people can get to know each other and share secrets and stories and intimate feelings! Without Alastor, we wouldn't have been able to pretty it up this much. See…”

Charlie spins him about until they see you descending from the stairs. You give an awkward wave, your feet finding the wood floor.

“Oh, oh! Dad!” Charlie shoves the King of Hell across the floor. He comes to a stop directly in front of you. “This is Thestral, one of our newest and most promising guests.”

Please, please work. You subconsciously rub the black ink on your left forearm, hidden beneath your red sweater.

“Hello, sir, nice to meet you,” You hold out your hand.

He gives you a confused look, his eyes scanning your form. “Do I know you?”

You laugh awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “No. No. I don’t think so. I’m sure I would have remembered meeting the King of Hell, after all.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Right,” he finally shakes your hand. Alastor comes to stand directly next to Charlie, shooting a glance over her shoulder at the King of Hell. He narrows his eyes at him.

Lucifer is exactly as you remembered him. God, what had it been? Ten thousand years? Who even keeps track of time anymore... Yet, Lucifer hadn't changed a bit. Falling from Heaven hadn't even left a mark...

Your heart panged in your chest.

“Ahem, Charlie! Dear, eheh, why don't you introduce me to your OTHER friends?” Lucifer awkwardly laughs.

Charlie pulls him away to Vaggie next.

He didn’t recognize you! Your heart sinks. He didn’t recognize you…

Alastor comes to stand next to you, his eyes following Lucifer around the room. The Radio Demon’s static prickles your skin. He’s irritated - at you or Lucifer or both.

“I didn’t realize how much Charlie looks like him…” You mumble. “I mean, I knew, but didn’t really know…”

Alastor side-eyes you, his demeanor that of the infamous Radio Demon. You tried hard not to picture him as his brown-haired, tan-skinned self. You tried not to picture the look on his face the moment the mask slammed back into place. You tried and failed...

“Looks like you could use some help…” Lucifer starts.

“Excuse me,” Alastor gives you a short bow before jumping into the fray.

You watched the chaos from the sidelines, Angel joining you moments later. A small giggle escaped you when Alastor dropped the piano on Lucifer.

His eyes found yours for a beat before he jumped into a piano duet with Lucifer’s violin. Your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met, his smile faltering but a moment, before his mask slipped back into place.

God, why did your heart hurt so bad?

“You okay?” Angel put a hand on your shoulder. You could feel Husk shooting questioning glances at you from across the room as he helped Sir Pentious up from the floor. How long had he been passed out?

Fuck, you were probably going to have to catch Husk up after all this.

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

You debated turning around and marching yourself right back to your room. Maybe hide until Lucifer finally leaves, and then you could talk to Alastor? It was probably best. Your presence here would just make things worse - especially considering how pissed off Alastor already was.

If you asked Angel to hide you away in his room for the rest of the day he’d do it in a heartbeat. You could build a cocoon on his bed and watch old movies together. Fat Nuggets could cuddle and fall asleep in your lap. Did you have any lemon tarts left, you think? Or had Angel snuck into your room and finished them off while you were gone? You hoped he had - or at least hoped Nifty threw them away (even if it meant her trespassing yet again). They were most likely bad by now.

You turned, debating asking Angel, but he looked so intrigued with the King of Hell you thought better of it. Not every day Royalty stays at the Hotel.

You were better off alone right now anyway.

“Mimzy!” Alastor cheered, he opened his arms for a hug.

Shit! You took a step behind Angel, praying the club owner hadn’t seen you.

She chatted with Alastor and Charlie. While she was distracted, you inched your way to the stairs…

“You! Don’t you move!” She used her angry voice. Angel took a big side step out of the way, clearly afraid of the small demon. Traitor…

She grabbed you by the ear and pulled you down to her level. You winced against the pain in your torso. “Where the fuck have you been!?”

“Mimzy,” Alastor warned, his eyes narrowing at the tiny demon. “We talked about this.”

His static prickled your skin, his green aura beginning to fill the room.

“No!” She waved her finger at him. “I wanna hear it from the dame, well?” She turned to you, her eyes shooting daggers.

“Mimzy, I…” you started, but words weren’t coming to you. Everyone was looking at you. It was too much.

“Well, hello there!” Lucifer took a step in front of Mimzy, cutting her off from Alastor.

“Oh, my stars! Are you Lucifer?” She dropped her hold on your ear. “Pleased to meetcha, Your Highness.” She curtsied and then turned to the Radio Demon. “Alastor, you gotta warn a girl when she’s in mixed company.”

“Charmed. I’m sure,” Lucifer gave a pained smile.

Alastor butts in, “As much as I'd love to catch up, Charlie and I have a tour to continue.”

Lucifer grabs onto his daughter, “I'm sure Charlie can handle showing me around.

“Nonsense!” The Radio Demon grabs Charlie and drags her forward. “We started the hotel together, and we'll show it off together. Right, Charlie?”

“Oh, right!”

This was so painful to watch.

Alastor turns to Mimzy, “Why don't you let the others help you settle in, and I'll be back before you know it!”

They disappeared down the hallway.

Finally, you could breathe.

The others gathered at the bar to hear Mimzy gab about Alastor, but you had had enough of the Radio Demon for one day. Everything was a mess, but it couldn’t be solved until after Lucifer left. Which would probably be a while. Instead, you turned and headed for the music room on the other side of the hotel.

You needed something to do. Hiding in your room would probably just make you stir crazy - plus, all you would do was panic. You debated going for a flight around the City, but you didn’t know how your muscles would hold up in your torso during the flight. You were healing, slowly but still healing. If you ripped something, you’d have to run all the way across town to Rosie, and you were not about to go asking for a chastisement, that’s for sure.

So you turned and headed for the piano room. You grabbed a random piece of music - something you’d played a hundred times - and began to play softly.

You played for what felt like hours, just letting your mind go numb, your thoughts only on the music. And then you felt eyes on you. Not the prickle of static, so it wasn’t Alastor or Rolf. You spun and met Lucifer’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he waved anxiously. “I just… I snuck away and heard you playing and was curious.”

“You snuck away?” You scrunched your nose.

“Yeah, yeah…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That Hotel Manager is…”

“A lot,” you finished for him.

“I was going to say insane, but you put it much nicer,” he gripped his cane.

He looked like he didn’t want to leave, but didn’t have a reason to stay. If anyone knew how much Alastor could be, it was you.

“You play, correct?” You asked, waiving him over.

“Yeah, how did you…”

“There’s this duet I’ve been wanting to try for so long,” you pulled a book of music out from the bench. “Do you mind?”

His smile was one of joy and relief. “Not at all.”

You lined the music sheets on the piano, quickly pointing out the trickier parts. You focused on some of the harder parts, playing out a few measures, before finally turning to the beginning.

“Ready?” You beamed.

He nodded and away you played. Franz Schubert’s Fantasia was a twenty minute song, but you only focused on the first movement, which was only four. It was an intense piece, with very strong emotion and parts which could get quite loud and others so quiet your fingers barely touched the keys at all.

Hell, it was fun. You found yourselves laughing partway through it, especially when you got so into it you bumped heads together.

When was the last time you and Lucifer did something like this? When was the last time you heard his laugh or saw him smile? Lucifer had been gone from Hell longer than you could remember him being a part of it.

The memories you two shared… You missed him.

You finished the movement and jumped when a crowd of clapping echoed behind you. The Hotel Natives were all standing in the doorway. Everyone was there - including Alastor, but he wasn’t clapping.

“That was amazing!” Charlie jumped, bringing the two of you into a hug.

Your face heated from the attention, but your eyes didn’t leave Alastor’s.

He was livid. Or wait... You followed his line of sight, which you had assumed was on you, but you were wrong. It was on Lucifer.

"...jealousy is not an emotion I am accustomed to..."

God, he doesn't know...

Mimzy stomped up and grabbed you by the ear again, stopping your train of thought. “I expect you back at the club this weekend!”

BOOM! The entirety of the Hotel shook.

“Que carajo!” Vaggie groans as the crew heads for the lobby.

You hesitated, knowing Alastor was never one to run headfirst into a fight. The demon made eye contact with you, but it wasn't anger you necessarily saw. It was suspicion. You swore, however, as he melted into shadow, you smelled a hint of vinegar wafting off the demon - hurt.

Alastor was hurting...

____________________________________________

You hadn’t seen Alastor in days and as everyone waited to hear back from Lucifer, the Hotel returned to its usual order of operations. The only solace in knowing he was alive were the screams playing continuously on the radio.

The demon was on a rampage.

You got up, made everyone coffee for breakfast, went through a new round of trust exercises put on by Charlie, played at the club in the late afternoon, and ended the day with a drink at the bar with the boys before finding the library with a good book.

You eventually had to fill in Husk. It wasn’t fair that Angel knew everything, but Husk only had half the story. For Husk, he had known you were in Hell a lot longer than 6 years, but he kept quiet. The bar cat knows how to keep his nose clean.

After you explained everything, he confessed to Angel that he knew you from long ago when he was an Overlord. You originally used Husk as an ally in the early stages before you "fell." He was a contact for you and Eve, someone to trust (to whatever degree that might have been) once your plans turned more south - to Hell. You were supposed to link up with him 6 years ago, but come to find out, he had fallen from power. You were pointed in Rosie's direction by someone you hesitate to call an ally - let's just say partner.

The Vees had gone quiet after the attack. You didn’t know if they were in mourning or if they were planning something big. Either way, the silence couldn’t be good. Perhaps Vox finally got the hint that you weren’t interested?

At about day five Rosie removed the stitches. You didn’t talk much at the visit even though she knew something was wrong. You just didn’t have the heart to hash it out all over again while she sat there and smiled and told you everything was going to be alright. You didn’t need the false hope.

The truth was you felt hollow, like a shell of yourself. The boys did their best to cheer you up, but it was no substitute for what your heart needed. Night after night you couldn’t sleep, the silence of the hotel deafening. You couldn’t find a record table. You didn’t dare turn on the radio. No way were you going to buy anything else electronic or another phone - Vox didn’t need easy access to your life. So, the bags under your eyes deepened, your anxiety festered more and more, and your drinking became more frequent.

Eventually, you gave up the wine and switched to whiskey - the burn giving you something to feel other than numb.

God, how had you let him work his way so far into your soul (if Angels had a soul)? When had he become someone you relied on to live your everyday life? Why did it feel like a part of you had died when Alastor left?

Day seven, Angel and Husk held an intervention.

“Alright, kid,” Husk slammed the whiskey bottle down on the table in front of you. “This has to stop. I can’t keep watching you kill yourself over someone who doesn’t deserve it.”

“Husk…” you started to protest when a portal opened up behind you.

Lucifer stepped through, a worried look across his face.

“Hey…. Guys…” Oh, so cringey. “Is Charlie here?”

The three of you pointed simultaneously. The King awkwardly shuffled into Charlie’s office.

A few moments later, you heard a scream of glee and a flurry of thank-yous. It sounds like Charlie got her meeting.

“He isn’t worth it, kid,” Husk continued.

Irritation prickled the back of your neck. You did not want to hear this right now. You didn’t want to hear this ever. You’ve been avoiding any conversation about it all week with either Husk or Angel. They had tried, naturally, but you’ve managed to blow them off every time. Not anymore. This had to stop.

“Husk, I am sick and tired of the two of you constantly lecturing me,” you pinched the bridge of your nose between forefinger and thumb, the flames beneath your skin threatening to break through. A spark of static danced its way down your spine.

“We are just trying to look out for you…”

“Well, don’t!” You snapped, the flames surfacing. “I don’t need to be babied all the time. I’m a fucking Overlord for fuck’s sake. I don’t need to be looked after, let alone babysat by a has-been at rock bottom, who was dumb enough to gamble away all his power in a game of cards!”

Husk blinked, not entirely listening to your rant, his eyes fixated on your arms. You followed his gaze downwards to the flames dancing across your skin.

Green, your flames were green.

“Is that…?” Angel started.

“Alastor’s Hellfire.”

You held your hand out and concentrated the flames in the palm of your hand, watching as the green danced amongst your fingers. It felt… warm. Not like the heat of fire, but warm like Alastor’s shadow. A small buzz of static creeped across your palm where the flames met your skin, the same way it dances down your spine whenever he enters a room, whenever you feel his presence nearing yours.

What was happening?

“How are you doing that?” Husk breathed.

Your mind flashed back to New Orleans, to the kiss you shared on the dance floor, to the flames that practically burned the establishment to the ground. Then to Alastor's apartment when you combined your power to destroy the cellphone. In that moment you felt a bond connect between you and Alastor stronger than any soul contract you had ever made. Did that have something to do with what was happening with your magic now?

“I don’t know.” You extinguish the flame, your mind flitting through a million explanations. “Husk…” You were too afraid to ask the question. “Have you ever heard of Sinners being able to share their magic with another?”

The cat demon thought a moment before shaking his head. “I’ve seen a lot of things, kid, but that isn’t one of them.”

You turned to Angel.

"Don't look at me, I ain't know shit about nothin'."

Out of curiosity, you held your hand out again, summoning flame - yet this time, it was blue. How strange… If you somehow had access to his power did that mean he had access to yours? Panic sparked within your core at the thought.

Did he have access to the well of magic you stole from Eve?

“Thanks, Dad!” Charlie’s voice echoed throughout the foyer. The Princess led her girlfriend and Lucifer to the bar, practically bouncing on her toes as she informed you of the good news. “We have a meeting with Heaven!”

You did your best to muster a smile, pushing down the wave of emotions washing over you. Trying not to make too much eye contact with Lucifer, you hugged the Princess, wishing her luck. Despite everything, your master plan was still moving forward. All that was left was for the Princess’ plans to be utterly rejected by the Holy Court, and then your direct manipulation could begin.

This was great! This was… great? If it was great, why did you still feel so low? Why did your heart still hurt?

Charlie bounced back, twirling amongst the group as she screamed in glee before listing off a million things she was going to pack for the trip. “And you’re coming with me!” She scooped Vaggie into a hug. The ex-Exorcist did not look pleased. Perhaps the Princess didn’t know of her girlfriend’s origins, for she definitely would not have asked her to come along if she had.

"Knock, knock!"

Holy fucking shit.

"Anybody home?" A familiar voice rang out.

The entire party turned to find Vox, striding through the doors, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a cellphone in the other.

Holy shit this guy SERIOUSLY can’t take a hint.

Husk and Angel both moved in front of you, blocking Vox’s view.

“Vox, what are you doing here?” Vaggie pulled out her spear, closing the distance before Vox got too close. The ever protective girlfriend held the point to his throat, but the media demon was unphased.

“Ah, who are you again?” The media demon nonchalantly raised an eyebrow.

“Vaggie!” Charlie placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. He doesn’t mean any harm. He’s just here for an update on Thestral.”

“What!?” Angel and Husk both choked out at the same time.

“Yeah…” Charlie awkwardly smiled. “He’s been stopping by… Didn’t I tell you guys…?”

“I thinks I woulda remembered somethin’ like that, toots,” Angel spat.

“Oh…” Charlie cringed.

Yeah, “forgot.” Sure, Princess. Fuck, what has she been telling him? What does Vox know!?

“Oh!” Nifty appeared at the base of Vox’s boots. “A bad boy!”

The media demon took a step back, clearly uncomfortable with the small demon’s gaze. Vaggie picked her up and pulled her aside.

“Charlie, is this one of your friends?” Lucifer slides himself into the conversation.

Vox’s jaw drops. “Oh, my god! You’re him! You’re the Lucifer!”

“Well,” Lucifer brushed invisible dirt off his shoulder. “I don’t mean to brag but yes, it is I, you’re humble King.”

Vox sure knows how to captivate an audience and Lucifer was playing right into the palm of his hand.

“Vox of Voxtek Technologies, at your service sir,” the media demon shakes Lucifer’s hand. “I must say, you are even more handsome in person.”

“Ouch!” Electricity zaps the King’s arm, causing him to flinch away. “Ha, ha, you flatter me…”

“Not at all! I believe you’re in the running for one of Hell’s most eligible bachelors?” The media demon winked. “Check your phone.”

The King pulled out his cellphone - complete with a rubber duck charm - which Vox zapped, sending the screen straight to a news article. The King was so entranced with what was written that he forgot the situation completely.

Why did Vox and Lucifer have to get along!?

“What the fuck?” Angel pulled out his phone and started flipping through news sources to hunt down whatever the fuck Vox was talking about. “Oh, shit it’s all over Vitter!*”

Oh, Angel and gossip...

The spider demon tried to show you his phone but you shooed him away.

Priorities, Angel!

“Actually, Vox,” Charlie smiles, her hands behind her back. “You’ve come on a good day because Thestral is…”

“No way!” Husk closes the distance, leaving Angel still guarding your side. The cat demon crosses his arms over his chest, shooting Vox a death glare. “He needs to go, now.”

“Well hello there little pet, where’s your master?”

“Like Hell I would tell you anything!”

“So he’s still making chaos in the Doomsday District then?” Vox prods but Husk says nothing.

“Well then,” Vox readjusts his suit. “That answers that question. On to more pressing, business. Where is she?”

“You aren’t going anywhere near her,” he threatens. The bartender wasn’t backing down, if anything he sized the media demon up, as if weighing his options. Fuck, you didn’t know what Husk was still capable of but you didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, down kitty.” Little sparks of electricity shoot out of Vox’s antenna.

“Hey! Don’t call me a kitty, you fu-“

“Husk,” you interrupt him. Emerging from behind your protective wall of white and pink fluff, you coax the bartender away from Vox. “It’s okay. I can take it from here,” you squeeze the demon’s paw before turning to Vox.

Mustering your most sincere smile, you say to the demon, “Hey Vox.”

“Babe! You look great! These are for you!” He thrusts the flowers into your hands

Blue Forget-Me-Knots, how original.

“What are you doing here?” You tried not to sound annoyed, you really did, but acting was Angel’s strong suit not yours. Hell, you’ve become a fantastic liar but keeping your feelings contained was a whole other battle.

“To check-in. I haven’t been able to get ahold of you and you getting hurt was my fault so…”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Your fault?”

“Yeah,” the demon’s gaze met the floor. “Charlie said you were on your way to V Tower to see me when the attack happened.”

You side glanced the Princess whose face was turning pink. What exactly had Husk and Angel told her happened?

“Anyway, I just…” The demon rubbed his neck and huffed. “Here!” Vox pulled out two things: a new phone and a watch.

Oh, here we go again.

“As an apology. Voxtek’s latest and greatest!” The demon posed with the electronics.

“Holy shit! Is that the new VWatch?” Angel asked. “That thang ain’t even out on the market yet!”

You shot him an exasperated look. Which team are you on, Angel?

Vox took your hand in his, fastening the watch around your wrist. “I’ve already connected it to your phone!” The demon turned both screens on. A notification flashed between the two of them to show you they had connected.

“Yay,” You feigned joy. Say whatever you have to say to get him out of here.

The second he leaves this is gone. No fucking way were you giving him the ability to track you so easily. The voice in the back of your head was screaming danger! danger! danger!

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, babe,” The demon pinched your cheek, rather hard actually. “Oh, would you look at the time!” Vox checked his phone. “I’m afraid I have somewhere to be but,” He smiled at you, winking. “I’ll see you soon, babe.”

Hopefully not too soon… Actually, hopefully never.

“Okay.” Was all you could say. Go home. Go home. Go home!

“Text me!” He laughed as he headed for the doors. “Your majesty,” the demon bowed before disappearing.

That was weird. He wasn’t mad you went AWOL for two weeks? He didn’t even ask for an explanation!? Wait, did he think the two of you were dating!? No. No. No! Uh, no! You are not dating Vox! Hell - to the fuck - no!

What in the fuck did Charlie tell him!? Was ghosting this guy not enough to send a message? Did the Princess say something to get his hopes up? Did he assume everything was good between the two of you, that you wanted this!?

As soon as the door shut you turned to Charlie, who was now hiding behind Vaggie. Irritation bubbled beneath your skin as the Princess smiled sheepishly at you. The flowers catching fire made everyone jump back. You didn’t care anymore. Who the fuck cares anymore!?

“What did you do?”

____________________________________________

Vox dials his phone as he nonchalantly heads down the street.

“Is everything in place?” The media demon asks.

“Yes, boss. The bitch won’t know what hit her.” A male voice answers.

Vox chuckles, his one eye turning red, “Good. Good. Let the massacre begin.”

____________________________________________

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Cellphones across the room chimed out in chorus, including your’s and your watch.

The spider demon looked at his phone, pure panic forming on his face.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” Your heart sank.

“Oh, toots. You’re gonna wanna see this.” He turned the pink phone towards you to reveal an alert.

Velvette posted a video on her Sinstagram and Vox sent a notification out for everyone to see it.

Angel pressed play.

Velvette’s cackle was iconic, as she picked up the phone. The front facing camera was on, so you couldn’t see her face, just the floor of V Tower now newly constructed. Her skipping stopped before the camera turned back around to her.

“Hello, Pentagram City!” She sang. “It’s Velvette here coming to you from the top of the newly restored V Tower, and I have a little friend here who wants to say hello to everyone!” She turns the camera back around, and the sight nearly knocks you off your feet.

It was Alastor, bloodied and bruised, tied to a metal chair.

This was impossible. Alastor couldn’t be captured on any recording devices or cameras. Which meant Velvette and Vox had weakened him a great deal. Where the fuck was Rolf? Why hadn’t he come and found you!?

“Say hello, Radio Demon.” Velvette cackled, but Alastor didn’t move. Alastor didn’t move!

Alastor was significantly more powerful than this. How in the Hell did they capture him!?

The camera turned back around to Velvette. “Your boy toy is waiting for you, Shadow. Come and get 'em!”

The video ended.

And you screamed.

Tears streamed down your face as you began to shake. Angel grabbed you, ensuring you wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Holy shit,” Husk breathed.

Rosie told you there were bystanders. She told you people saw. Alastor must have missed one or something or… or… Then that means…

“She… she… she…” you couldn’t form words. “She figured out Alastor was the one who saved me after I killed Valentino.” Your voice broke as you collapsed into the spider demon in a heap of sobs. “I have to go.”

“No way, Hair clip.” Angel protested. “It’s clearly a trap.”

“They’re going to kill him, Angel!” You practically screamed as your entire body shook, anxiety bubbled in your chest, your power surging as it fed off your anxious energy.

“I know, toots. I know.”

“She knows I’m an Angel.” You looked at the two of them, desperately scanning their faces for answers.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” You grabbed at your hair, the blue flames threatening to break through. “If I hadn’t killed Valentino, Alastor wouldn’t have needed to save me. But I had to because Valentino almost killed you because I killed Travis.” Green static ran across your arms.

Angel jumped back, some of the electricity zapping him.

“If I hadn’t become the Shadow, I wouldn’t have killed Travis, and the Vees wouldn’t have gone after Alastor.”

____________(Trigger warning)_______________

You fell to your knees the entire world spinning out of control. You felt it then, that well of power deep within you that you’ve been keeping contained for the past six years. It threatened to break through, begged to break through. You were hyperventilating now, desperately trying to push that well of power down as your panic only seemed to build.

This was your fault. Alastor was going to die because of you. If you hadn’t been so distracted, you could have seen this coming. You did nothing about the Crim situation after learning about it and did nothing to stop Velvette from buying weapons from Carmilla Carmine. You didn’t monitor the Vees after you killed Valentino to see if they were planning any attacks of revenge.

You did nothing! You are useless! You have always been useless! Why didn’t you try harder? Why didn’t you see these things coming? You’re worthless! A pathetic excuse for a soldier! You are a disappointment to your name! A disappointment to your father! All the years of effort, all the years of training for nothing!

Why are you still even here!? Why are you still even trying!? You’re a failure. A miserable failure in everything that you do! And now someone you care about was going to die because of you. Because you are weak!

“No, stop it!” You screamed, clamping your hands down over your eyes.

Stop? Stop!? You wouldn’t have to stop anything if you had just listened! Tried harder! Actually succeeded!

A tornado of blues and greens exploded from you, plunging your world into a sea of colors. The magic spun around you, whipping your hair about your face and blocking your view of the room.

Alastor’s dead because of you. You can’t take that back.

It’s your fault.

It’s Your fAulT.

It’S yOuR FaULt.

IT’S YOUR FAULT.

Somewhere, a high-pitched voice screamed. Or was it you screaming? It was hard to tell. The voices in your head had become too loud to hear anything else.

“I’m sorry!” You yelled back, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry! Please make it stop!”

Stop? stoP? StOp? STop? STOP?

“Please, Dad, stop!” You screamed.

You could hear his laugh clear as day as the voices inside your head merged into one, “Stop?”

You curled into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn’t have to look at him.

“You’re such a disappointment, do you know that?” His voice echoed around you, swirling with the winds and colors engulfing your small form.

“Dad, I’m sorry,” you sob. “Please!” A throb in your chest. That well of power was still there, still trying to take advantage and breakthrough.

“You’re pathetic. Lying there, groveling like an insolent child. No one will ever love you, you know. No one will ever care.”

Throb, push, pull. The power was trying to undo the knots, trying to take advantage to slip out.

“It was a mistake to create you.”

“I was a mistake,” you repeated.

“No!” A voice screamed, cutting through the wind and the voices. “You are not a mistake!”

Charlie?

“You are not a mistake, Thestral!” You opened your eyes to find Charlie fighting against the hurricane of colors. The Princess was pushing against the wind; her hair had escaped her braid. One hand held in front of her, the other reaching out for you, she slowly trudged her way forward.

“You are wrong!” She screamed. “You are not a mistake, and you are loved! We love you, Thestral!”

What?

“Me, Husk, Angel, Nifty, Pentious, even Vaggie. We love you!” The Princess fell to her knees before you. “We are your family now, Thestral, and we love you.” Her hands found yours. “And we will always be here for you, no matter what!”

You sat up a bit to meet the Princess’ eyeline. She smiled softly at you despite the chaos around. “You are not a mistake. You are loved.” She leaned in, emphasizing every word. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

IT’S YOUR FAULT.

It’S yOuR FaULt.

It’s Your fAulT.

It’s your fault.

It’s not your fault.

“It’s not my fault,” you repeated.

The winds began to die down around you, the colors fading away, the voices silencing.

Until it was just you and Charlie lying on the Hotel floor.

“It’s not your fault,” she repeated before bringing you into a hug. You hugged her back, her warmth, her touch, her weight, a calming presence around you.

“Thank you,” you breathed into her hair.

____________________________________________

(Pick up here if you skipped the earlier section)

____________________________________________

“Uhhhh,” Angel peered his head up from behind the couch. “Can someone please explain to me how I’m not dead?”

You continued to breathe as Charlie held you on the floor. She did her best to fix your hair as you spoke. “Oh, my God, I’m so…”

“Don’t,” Charlie stopped you. With a hand on either cheek, she forced you to look at her. “Don’t apologize.” You had never seen her so serious. “You’re scared. We all are.”

You nod.

“Is everyone okay?” She asked the room.

Everyone checked in. Including Lucifer.

“Yup! All the magical colors just make me want to throw up a bit!” The King gagged.

Ew.

“Okay, team. What’s the plan?” Charlie stood, radiating determination.

“Uhm, pardon me?” Angel threw himself over the couch.

“The plan to get Alastor back.”

“What?” Vaggie grabbed Charlie by the jacket, making as if to shake some sense into her. “You are not going up against Vox and Velvette. No way!”

“Vaggie,” the Princess protested. “Alastor is in trouble. We have to get him back.”

We?

“Uhm, excuse me, ‘we’?” Lucifer blinked.

“Yes,” Charlie stood tall. “We. None of us would be here if it weren’t for him. We wouldn’t have this Hotel without him. He’s defended it more times than you can count.”

“I don’t owe the prick anything.” Lucifer stepped in.

“Dad,” Charlie approached him warily. “Well… How do I put this lightly… After Mom left, you kind of did too.”

“You completely abandoned her,” Vaggie muttered.

Lucifer looked away, his arms crossed.

“What Vaggie means to say is, Alastor was there for me when you weren’t. He’s helped take care of me - in a very demonic way - but he did what he did because he cares about me and this Hotel. If the situation was reversed and I asked him, he would help.” Charlie’s smile turned down to a fine line. “I’m asking, as your daughter. Please, help us.” She reached a hand out for him.

Lucifer eventually melted, taking her hand in his. He nodded, before Charlie whipped back around to face you. “Okay! What do you need from us?”

You dried your eyes. “Us?” You repeated, meeting the faces of everyone around you.

They all looked… determined. Well, except for Nifty, she looked bloodthirsty and downright demonic.

They were going to fight with you.

A feeling sparked in your chest, one which was new to you but second nature to Human Sinners: pride.

Mere months ago you came to this hotel with a plan to befriend the Princess and her crew. You needed to weasel your way into her world, earn their sympathy, gain their devotion. It was a ploy of manipulation. You weren’t here to make friends. You were here for power and chaos, nothing more.

That was the plan, right?

Yet, somewhere along the way, they found a way into your world, had earned your sympathy, gained your devotion. Rosie once told you that you never let anyone in and those that found a way past your wall terrified you. Here, now, surrounded by those you genuinely considered friends, you weren’t afraid…

You felt powerful.

You smiled softly, trying to corral the overwhelming swell of emotion within you. You summoned magic in your other hand, the green static jumping across your skin: Alastor’s magic. You could feel him, feel his breath, his heart beating at the other end of the connection as real and as strong as your own.

No more running.

You tried to push a little bit of your magic through the connection, as if to say “Hold on, Alastor. We’re coming.”

You turned to the group. “Before we get started, there are some things you need to know…”

Last short transition chapter before stuff get’s good!

*The competition for the most eligible bachelor in Hell actually happened on Twitter, but I'm pretty sure it was "hottest in Hell" or something like that. It involved legit bribery and scandals, but in the end, Vox won - because, of course, he did.

-> Chapter Twelve

Tag List (Let me know if you want to be added):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega

@missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillwormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick @cloverresin20

@blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @sawi1987 @mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen

@demoarah @diffidentphantom @divineknightmare

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feyhunter78 · 8 months

Text

Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #nerd miguel #nerd!miguel #college!miguel #college!reader #sorority!reader #nerd!miguel o'hara #college au #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

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tazzertopia · 1 year

Text

phantom troupe: do they snore?

this idea for phantom troupe hcs came to me randomly at 2:00am last night so enjoy xoxo

chrollo

-probably not unexpected but not really

-he’s generally a super quiet sleeper

-the loudest he ever is in his sleep is breathing loudly on occasion

-his lack of snoring is most likely attributed by the fact he’s a very light sleeper

-he’s one of those bitches who will wake up because the whistling of the wind was slightly louder than usual

uvogin

-his ass sounds like a heavy metal concert when he sleeps

-his snores are earth-shaking. ear-splitting. pain-inducing.

-his snores single handedly contribute to noise pollution

-think of how loud your dad snores and x1000

-if the troupe members have to share a room at any point during a mission, they will throw a whole rock paper scissors tournament to see who’s taking one for the team and sacrificing their sleep (it’s usually nobunaga)

-because covering his mouth with a sock doesn’t stop the snoring, the troupe have an emergency weighted blanket on standby

-the complete opposite of chrollo, this man could sleep in an active war zone and and not budge an inch (in other words you cannot wake his ass up by force to get him to stop snoring so the only option is to wait it out or sleep somewhere else)

pakunoda

-the most silent sleeper ever

-not even a peep from miss pakunoda

-the ideal person to share a bed with. she doesn’t snore, her breathing is inaudible and she’s extremely still

-almost unnerving in a way bc she looks dead when she sleeps

-if you were to share a bed with her you’d probably spend most of the night checking her pulse to ensure she is actually alive and breathing

phinks

-he’s one of those people who when he snores the buildup is super loud but he exhales quietly (i hope that makes sense)

-ljke the buildup is super dragged out like hhhHhhhhhhUUUHHHUUUH but the exhale is just hoooooooo !!

-idk how to express snoring via text so you may have to act it out to know what i mean

-honestly this type of snoring is arguably worse than uvogin’s bc at least his is consistent whereas phinks will give you hope that he’s finally stopped snoring until it starts up again ☹️☹️😢

-he will forever deny he snores tho

feitan

-comedic ass snore

-probably snores like mimimimimimimimi zzzzzzzzz 😴💤😴💤😴💤

-he sleeps like he should be wearing a night cap and a long night gown with a candle on his bedside table

-trying not to piss yourself laughing while he’s snoring if you’re still awake is an olympic level sport

-one time shalnark recorded him while he was snoring and showed it to him (when he was down with him, he ensured the recording was eradicated from his phone)

-ik realistically he would probably be a silent sleeper but the idea of him sounding like a whole cartoon character is actually hilarious to me

shalnark

-sleep? WHAT’S THAT? 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🤣🤣🤣🤣 (get it because he’s the tech whiz so he probably stays up all night gaming lololololol XDD)

-probably a loud ass mouth breather

-like he sounds like a broken ventilator sometimes

-he sounds like he ran a lap around mt everest before bed why is he so loud

-if you pissed him off during the day he would probably amp up the volume on his breathing to prevent you from sleeping well (now we’re both mad xx)

shizuku

-for the most part very quiet

-occasionally she will jumpscare you awake by randomly snoring out of no where

-like you’ll wake up to this loud ass noise only to realise it was just shizuku

-sometimes she’ll wake up aswell and accuse you of snoring

-aside from that pretty quiet- not as ideal to share a bed with as pakunoda but fine for the most part as long as you don’t mind surprises

nobunaga

-i feel like he’d have one of those super low growly snores ???????

-like those low, shaky ones

-the ones that kinda sound like grunts

-idk if i’m making sense so i pray i am 🙏

-they’re not that bad tho bc they’re quiet enough to not keep you awake and are low-key kinda relaxing

-if you’re gonna share a bed with anyone who snores, it’s nobunaga

machi

-another generally quiet sleeper except for occasionally sighing in her sleep

-from time to time she’ll just go like huhhhhhhhh :// and then will go back to being quiet again

-don’t bring it up the next day tho bc she WILL deny it and seem embarrassed

-you can tell when she’s having a nice dream based on how often she sighs

franklin

-surprisingly quiet

-you wouldn’t expect his oversized enormous ass to be quiet but he is

-similar to chrollo, the most you’re getting out of him is some occasionally loud breathing

-aside from that he’s a quiet sleeper

bonolenov

-i feel like bc of the holes in his body he’d probably make a whistling sound in his sleep

-like a pan flute

-not the worst tho bc like nobunaga it’s low high key relaxing

-free asmr what could be better xxx

kortopi

-quiet as hell

-are we really surprised

-sorry to the two kortopi fans out there but i can’t be bothered to think of anything to add on he’s just quiet

another tazzertopia classic 💯💯💯💯 if you like these hc posts pls give me requests (idk if the ask box is visible on my profile but do it through here or via the comments) bc these are super fun, i can also do other characters too !!! if i do more i might start doing them for other shows anyways bye xoxoxoxoxoxoxox

#hunter x hunter #hxh #phantom troupe #chrollo #phinks magcub #pakunoda #machi komacine #shizuku murasaki #feitan #shalnark #nobunaga hazama #uvogin #hxh headcanons #hxh x reader #phantom troupe brainrot is eating me alive #give me suggestions pretty please with a cherry on top xx

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dinogoofymutated · 5 months

Note

So I'm warming up to the idea of Cable now with this new animation style. And now I can't help but imagine a mutant reader seeing him shirtless for the first time 👉🏽👈🏽. Maybe she's helping him treat a wound he cant reach on his back and he's too worn out to rely on his telekinesis for it. Sure she knows that he has a metal arm. Techno-organic viruses were nasty business. But she never imagined she'd get to see the stark contrast of metal and flesh up close. Just a tender moment where she gets to see him at his most vulnerable. Preferably sfw. Sorry if this is too long winded or specific. Really love your writing and enjoy what you share with us regardless if u choose this one or not 🫶🏽

SFW!Cable/GN!Reader OOOOGHHHH when I tell you I have been thinking about this since you sent me the ask!! I've been dying to write this but forced myself to follow a schedule :( I've never really been a Cable girly but this scenario has been in my head non-stop! I just hope this fic does the same to others!!! Speaking of which, I hope this isn't too OOC for him! This also might get a pt 2 with some smooching 😘

Read pt. 2 Here :)

-Ps- Heads up, finals week is coming up for me and I have a lot of essays and work to do. my writing is sadly going to slow down a bit. I don't think I'm going to close requests for now but it's not out of the realm of possibility! TWs: Can't really think of any. Gross depictions of techno-organic shit. As always, Reader written while picturing fem! but no pronouns mentioned. The reader is short in this one, sorry to all my Amazonian friends.

Prime sentinels were like wasps. Squashing one could be relatively easy with the right tools, but it was difficult to handle multiples at once. It had been a rough day, and your ears were still ringing from the sounds of blaster fire when you got to the safe house. Your hands are shaking from the adrenaline, body exhausted from overusing your mutant powers. Bruises are forming all over you, and despite the pain and soreness, you know you got off easy compared to Cable.

He’s got an arm slung around your shoulder, using you as a crutch as you help him limp over to the table- although you’re sure you’re not a very good one, too short for him to properly lean on. His gun clanks on the floor as he sits, grunting as the movement sends shooting pains through his body. You can tell his left arm is aching, the techno-organic virus fighting to beat the telekinetic powers keeping them still. You weren’t the only one who overdid it today, but you also weren’t the one who had to keep a virus from eating you alive.

Once Cable is settled, the routine starts. You cautiously make a round through the safe house, making sure blinds are drawn and entryways secured. Usually, the task was split between the two of you, being faster and safer than it would be alone- but he would take it over when you were badly hurt. It was only natural that you would do the same. You feel the sting of anxiety and worry in your heart. Cable had saved your ass today. He had done so many times, but normally the fighting wasn’t this extreme. You had been stupid, and he was suffering the consequences.

A series of pained grunts lead you back into the kitchen once you’ve finished, and you can tell Cable is pissed just by the tone of them. You’re facing his back when you walk in, noticing the large red stain that spans across the width of his shoulders. You try to hide the worry on your face as you approach him. He has the medkit sprawled out on the counter, sorting through the various items in it.

“Can’t believe this thing doesn’t have a damn mirror.” He grunts. You hum in response, looking him over before examining the items on the table.

“What do you need a mirror for?” You ask, voice coming out a little hoarse. You clear your throat, must be from the smoke earlier. Cable sends you a look, tossing his head towards his back. You mouth an “oh” before looking at him, unable to hide your worried expression. You’d seen him stitch his wounds up with his telekinesis before, when the fight was all guns and no powers. An action like that was child’s play for someone of his capabilities. For him to actively avoid it, and the way his arm seemed to be bothering him more than normal… It made you worried. It made you feel guilty.

You look down at the suture kit, open on the table from where Cable had unzipped it, and then look back at him, wordlessly asking. He gives you a cautious look for a moment, before it shifts into something much softer. He doesn’t bother nodding, choosing to simply take his shirt off instead.

You blush a little but quickly get to work, grabbing a pair of gloves and pulling them on. They’re too big for you, meant to fit Cable’s sturdy hands instead of your own smaller ones. You try not to get distracted by the sight of him shirtless as you pick up what you need and get behind him. The air has shifted between the two of you, forming into something a little more intimate. Something that builds itself on words unspoken, truths that neither of you is quite ready to communicate yet.

His back is broad and beautiful, dotted with scars and bruises. The gash on his shoulders is from a stray blast, starting at the top of his left shoulder and ending at the lower shoulder blade of his right.

You’re not sure if you had been ready to see the cut-off between flesh and metal.

The cords of metal attach to the skin of his shoulder in a way that makes your skin crawl. They sprout from underneath the skin, winding against each other in a way that makes no clear sense to you. The top layers of skin are rough, keloid scarring having formed at the impasse of skin and metal. It's horrific, the way the virus has both eaten and forced its way under the skin. The top of the gash is somewhat deep, the deep inner cording revealed by the wound cutting through the top of his skin has you unable to look away despite the horror that has taken you.

“I can feel you staring, you know.” Cable’s rumbling voice causes you to snap back to reality.

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to…” You trail off, not fully able to place the words. He sighs, and you mistake it for annoyance. You quickly get back on track and begin to disinfect the wound. Cable hardly flinches as you do so. You’re overly cautious as you stitch him up, focusing on each stitch being perfectly placed. You know they wouldn’t stay for long. Cable had a habit of tearing his stitches. You hope that maybe you’d be able to keep that from happening this time.

You place both hands on his shoulder blades when you are done. The nerves have worn off as the pseudo-doctor in you took over. You’re trying to examine the stitches, but find that your attention keeps being drawn back to that stark contrast of his shoulder. If Cable notices, he doesn’t say anything. You glance at the back of his head, trying to gauge what he’s feeling.

Your left hand drifts a little. Cable shudders as your thumb gently traces that line of scarring, the metal of his arm feeling extra cold compared to the heat of his skin. You’re waiting for him to say something. To tell you to back off. To grumble and shake you off and avoid speaking to you like he used to when you first started to work together- when he was so determined not to get attached.

But he doesn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. The tenseness of his shoulders slowly gives as the gentle touching morphed into more purposeful touches, working the stiff muscles- what was left of the organic ones, anyway.

It’s intimate. It’s quiet. It’s… nice. Part of you wishes it would last a little longer. Part of you wishes he would let you touch him like this more often.

Cable stiffens again as the thought crosses your mind, recoiling away from you. He stands suddenly, turning around to face you. His towering stature used to make you nervous out of fear. Now you’re nervous for a completely different reason. Part of you had forgotten about the glimpses he takes into your mind. A flicker of anxiety ignites when you realize how much he might have seen. The two of you just look at each other for a moment, his brown eyes hard compared to the softness from earlier. You hadn’t meant to think so much. You didn’t think he was horrific. It was the virus. What it was doing to him. The energy and effort it takes out of him. That was what scared you.

Cable was used to the stares. The horror. Most recoiled at the sight of his flesh. It only made sense to him when you did too.

But Nathan… Nathan wasn’t ready for the depth of your thoughts. The care in your eyes. He wasn’t ready for the depth of his own feelings. The ones that cause such a storm within him. The ones that cause him to be stupid. The ones that make him focus more on saving you than the goal of every mission.

“Is this… Are we okay?” You ask. He didn’t need to be a telepath to sense the fear that has swelled within you. Most of your emotions were always written on your face. It made things easier for him when he didn’t have to search for your thoughts. That hardness in his eyes softens yet again, and he glances away for a moment.

“... Yeah.” Is all he says. His heart feels light when you finally smile at him, even though an underlying nervousness still resides behind that smile. You let out a relieved sigh, and he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Instead, he sits back down. He faces away from you, giving you the space to finish taking care of the wound on his back.

You don’t realize how late it is until you’re finished, and the mess on the counter has been cleaned and contained back in the medkit. The two of you sit together as you eat. The food isn’t great- consisting of an MRE that’s not exactly as advanced as the futuristic weapons and technology would lead you to believe. He doesn’t say anything when you lean on his shoulder, or when your breathing evens out, having fallen asleep on his side.

The aches and pains don’t really bother Nathan as he carries you to bed, but the thoughts of you, your feelings, your thoughts… Those keep him awake longer than any wound would.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #cable headcannons #cable x reader #cable xmen #nathan summers x reader #nathan summers #nathan summers headcannons #Cable imagines

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film-in-my-soul · 9 months

Text

Dark | 1,369 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Hob wakes to the sensation of being watched by the darkness in his bedroom. He loves it when Dream gets weird.

Werewolf Boyfriends; The Care and Keeping Of | 3,298 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: There are many benefits, Dream reflects during the full moon, to the keeping of a werewolf for a boyfriend.

Intemperate | 4,402 | cuubism / @cuubism

Summary: Was it like this for humans all the time? Dream wondered. This heavy anticipation in his chest, the bodily attention verging on pain? He hadn’t known it was possible to be so intently aware of another person, but there it was, Hob Hob Hob in the pounding heart he didn’t need, a compulsion that wasn’t intellectual or even particularly romantic, but rather a strained desperation that could only be soothed by touch.

Dust on Trial | 4,655 | Griombrioch

Summary: “And..” Hob pauses, “this was good for you? It’s what you wanted?” Dream closes his eyes and sighs out a breath he doesn’t need, if only to make another attempt at dislodging the rock in his chest. He knew what would happen when he approached his previous lover. He knew their nature, and he’d done it anyway. This is his fault. He just wishes the hole inside of him would fill. He despises feeling so hollow. “Oh,” Hob breathes then, as if understanding some complex problem that Dream himself cannot see, and the frown deepens. “Oh, you’re in a bad drop, aren’t you, love?”

all together now | 5,182 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: "You know I do not require this of you," his lover says, and Hob swallows again. This time Dream doesn't even need to look; his eyes are still trained on Hob's throat. "Is it not so that human lovers keep aspects of themselves...apart from their relationships?" "Hiding a thing for obscure fetish pornography isn't quite the same as keeping an entire part of your personality locked up," Hob says kindly.

Please see below for more recommendations!

Handy | 5,612 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Dream answers the door one beautiful September afternoon to a man so attractive he can barely keep it together long enough to get his sink fixed. Several weeks later, he runs into the same man in a lecture hall.

and oil for the light | 6,387 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: Matthew eyes him with blatant disrespect. "You're one of those," he says. "One of those monsterfucker people. Gets off on tentacles and shit." "Tentacles," Hob says, affronted. "There's never been any tentacles." "Have you asked?"

how longingly | 7,333 | cuubism / @cuubism

Summary: Hob's fingers slip a little higher, just under the sleeve of his coat. He is still wearing his coat, yes, why is that? He feels very warm. "Could find out?" "Are you suggesting I should find some man to bed me?" "Some man," Hob repeats, jaw working. His gaze is hovering somewhere around Dream's collar. "Some man who knows what he's doing, yeah."

I Wanna Hold Your Hand | 7,535 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: Hands are such a human thing, Hob thinks. To make, and shape, and create. The elegance of thumbs. Fashioned by thousands of years of slow and careful evolution for the sole purpose of holding. He wants to hold Dream. To rub their fingers together, that singularly human grasp, to push their palms flat, and their chests close, and he's not sure if he wants to hug his friend or cry on his shoulder, because he should have been there. He should have known.

with both hands | 8,596 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: Hob whistles, low and impressed, and makes one more turn to admire the extremely obvious handprint on his right arsecheek.

Licking the Spoon | 8,636 | Dira Sudis (dsudis) / @dsudis

Summary: "I have spoons in my flat," Hob added, feeling a little reckless with the surge of probably-unneeded adrenaline. "Loads of spoons." His friend raised his eyebrows at that, and jerked his hand away from the spoon on the table, but he didn't follow it by walking out, so Hob hadn't gone too far.

Ecdysis | 8,647 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: The manner in which an animal routinely casts off a part of its body (often, but not always, an outer layer or covering), either at specific times of the year, or at specific points in its life cycle. The door swings open, and Hob looks up, as automatic as a blink or a breath. He’s not expecting anything. It’s been three months and four days, six hours and thirty-nine minutes, and all he had been told was more than once a century. Dream is standing in the doorway. He looks like hell.

Relief | 8,753 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: "Your daydreams," Dream pronounces, standing there with his hands in his coat pockets, looking Hob's body up and down like it's a fascinating puzzle. "Are exceptionally loud." Oops.

Fell In Love With a Pisces Moon | 10,651 | LikeMmmCookies

Summary: Dream visits Hob 33 years late, but then he keeps coming back and Hob doesn't know exactly why. He finds Dream isn't the same man he once knew, but he's still in love all the same.

just find the feeling, pass it on | 10,784 | ThirtySixSaveFiles / @thirtysixsavefiles

Summary: There is a new temple in London. This is not so unusual. Dream has been…away, as his sister says, for over a century. Even had he not been, he does not map the Waking so thoroughly as to always see these things when they start. Places of love, of devotion, spring up from time to time. He leaves them be; they are not, generally speaking, his business. What is unusual is that this one is shaped like a pub, and it is very much his business. Dream contemplates The New Inn as he approaches.

Scenes from a University AU the Author Did Not Intend to Write | 10,880 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Dream and Hob, throughout their time at university together, dancing around one another until something finally gives.

by the minute | 11,267 | issylra / @issylra

Summary: "Why don't you tell me your name?" "Hob." Quite possibly the worst fake name Dream has encountered thus far. There's another pause. "I mean. Not Hob." A punched out breath. "Fuck." "You don't know your name?" "Of course I know my name. But I'm not sure you're supposed to know my name."

Consummation | 11,462 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: Cōnsummāre, To perfect, to consummate. Cōnsūmere, To devour, to take wholly or completely. Turns out, shoving all of your repressed desires into a box lined with teeth will spectacularly backfire when eventually you have to open the box up again. Or, Hob Gadling demonstrates his ability to code switch and Dream goes off the rails a bit.

Saint Morpheus | 11,882 | landwriter / @landwriter

Summary: “Kneel,” said Dream. Hob knelt before him. Dream pressed his own thumb to his lips and wet it. He took Hob’s chin in the other hand and tilted his face up. “Some do this with ash. To acknowledge death. Mortality. It would not befit you,” he said, and smudged his wet thumb in a sign upon Hob’s forehead. “Now you wear my mark,” he said. “I have always worn your mark, my Lord,” said Hob. “Then remember you are mine and to me you shall return,” Dream said.

Wolf and I | 12,054 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: "Shuck," the beast says. "How quickly the memories of men fade! I am no paltry devil, little red. I am the son of the great wolf Night herself, first and foremost among stories! I am older than the seas and the forests! I am..." "Beautiful," Hob breathes. Hob Gadling, hunter for King Richard, is called to fell the wolf that has decimated the deer of Cannock Chase. He finds more than he bargained for waiting for him in the woods.

On sexual dimorphism in C. urophasianus | 13,177 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: "I must court you," Dream pronounces, and Hob drags his attention away from the flowers. Grimaces slightly. "You don't have to," he says. "This will only last a week or two, and then we can go back to being, you know. Normal boyfriends who aren't being driven insane by the urge to put every shiny object in the flat in the bloody bed with me."

Once Upon a Time | 14,055 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Hob knows the point of storytime at the library is to give parents an hour’s break and maybe a chance to grab a coffee with some other parents at the library café and enjoy the company of other adults for a little while, but when the moment comes to leave Robyn, he can’t face it. Robyn’s all he has left in the world and he really doesn’t want a break, he wants to keep him in his bloody pocket always. But he needs time to be with other kids, away from his hovering wreck of a dad, and so Hob decides on a mature, reasonable solution. He hides behind one of the bookshelves. Which is why the first he ever knows of Dream is his voice.

Midnight in Bloom | 14,389 | CeruleanHeart

Summary: A peculiar species of flowers is spreading in the Dreaming, maddening its residents and threatening to overtake the realm. When Morpheus himself falls under their spell his only option is to confront all the desires for an old friend he’s had long buried within his heart before his own passion can consume him.

Bloodhound | 15,712 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: It's a square gem in an antique gold setting, real antique gold, with the sort of dullness to the metal that tells its age. There's nothing particularly ornate about it. The ruby itself is a simple cut – he’s not a jeweller, doesn’t know what to call it precisely, but it’s square-ish and bevelled at the edges – but it catches the light in such a way that it makes it seem like it has a thousand facets all across the surface of it. The rain creates a stippled effect, and even through two separate panes of glass Hob can see his reflection peering back at himself through the ruby’s deep face. £2500, says a placard set in front of it. Early 1900s RUBY pendant - real!!!

in the absence of memory | 16,089 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: A freak accident renders Hob unable to remember the beautiful man who strides into his hospital room and declares himself his husband. But oh, does he want to. He knows he's loved this man for centuries, that nothing could make him forget. The best he can do is tell him that, and wait. Meanwhile, Dream of the Endless experiences being Hob Gadling's beloved spouse, without any of their past hanging between them, and agonises over the realisation that Hob could have loved him if only he'd been better.

an allowance of pleasure | 16,860 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Even a being as powerful as the Lord of Dreams may have things to learn. Even a human as insignificant as Hob Gadling may have things to teach. Luckily for Dream, Hob's supplies of tea, biscuits, and patience are bottomless.

New Stranger | 20,709 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: It’s been three months since Hob Gadling attended the funeral of his oldest friend when he walks into the basement café of a bookshop on Tottenham Court Road and sees him behind the counter.

Shelter | 23,345 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: 1924. Roderick Burgess' continued attempts to control Dream result in a shattered cage, eternal sleep, and one very human, very cold, very hungry, very naked, VERY angry Endless. Several days later, Captain Robert Gadling opens his front door, and said very human Endless falls into his arms.

The Knight of Cups | 25,720 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Hob had fought Lucifer, as Dream’s champion, with his bare hands, rushing in where angels would fear to tread, heedless of anything but the desire to protect.

spilled ink and daffodils | 31,625 | issylra / @issylra

Summary: "I love your tattoos," Hob mimics, in an overly lovestruck tone of voice. He bats his eyelashes for good measure. "Do you have more? Can you show me? It's totally okay if you have to take off your clothes, by the way. I just want to appreciate the artistry." Dream fixes him with what is probably supposed to be a blank stare, but Hob can see the way he's biting back a smile. "Are you done?" "Painting for the day? Yes. Teasing you? No, probably not."

By the Laws of Magic | 32,125 | Lenore

Summary: It’s 1959, and Hob Gadling is working at a London auction house, amazing his colleagues with his uncanny knowledge of art and artifacts from the 14th century on. When he gets the assignment to catalogue a family library at a place called Fawney Rig, he looks forward to a working vacation in the country. What he finds is a house with a preternatural chill where odd disturbances happen daily, an ornate carved door with a secret clearly hidden behind it, and visions of his mysterious stranger every time he turns around.

You're the One I Need | 39,086 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: "Uh-oh," Delirium says. Dream studies the car, the white smoke billowing out from beneath the bonnet, listening to the alarming clunking noise that the engine is making. On his hip, Orpheus, unusually solemn child that he is, gazes soulfully at the car. "Caw boken," he declares.

A Man of Good Fortune | 43,308 | softestpunk / @softest-punk

Summary: Captain Robert Gadling, a man with a fortune of a hundred and twenty thousand pounds in war prizes, needs a well-bred omega to fulfil his ambition of styling himself a gentleman. Dream d'Endless, a penniless divorced omega with an ancient name, requires an alpha to provide for his son, Orpheus. Their purely practical marriage seems like the best solution for everyone. If only either of them were inclined towards practicality.

grist for the mill | 56,226 | jamais_vu0

Summary: The rumor that Hob Gadling, the human who tricked Death herself into granting him immortality, has finally decided he's lived long enough and consented to die is sweeping through the supernatural community like wildfire. It even spreads to the Dreaming, where Dream handles it about as well as could be expected. It is, to say the least, a bit of a shock to Hob Gadling himself, who is still very much alive- and increasingly in need of rescue.

On Broken Wings | 57,191 | Konstadt / @blueberrymffn

Summary: Hob Gadling has seen the same man sitting still like a statue every day for a week and looking terribly upset, all he really wants is a peaceful lunch break but he can't bring himself to ignore someone in need - especially a very gorgeous someone who looks like they're on the verge of a breakdown. A chance meeting becomes far more, and gives Morpheus a means to heal.

The Uses of Adversity | 65,825 | MonstrousRegiment

Summary: What led Hob Gadling — at the time known as Robert Stranger, because he’d been in a permanent state of pettiness from 1889 to about 1904 and now he was stuck with it — to the dank, cold, and dark basement of the Burgess house on March of 1957 was not so much coincidence or fate as it was curiosity. Yeah. Cats isn’t the only thing it kills.

My Stranger, My Dream | 67,154 | SigniorBenedickofPadua / @signiorbenedickofpadua

Summary: Hob has been around death. Living in London throughout multiple plague outbreaks and fires, as well as making a living soldiering and dabbling in banditry, will do that to you. What he doesn't know is that Death has been around Hob as well. He has no idea that when his Stranger left him that night in 1389 after their first meeting, the woman who came up to him, laid a hand on his shoulder and said, “Good luck, friend,” was Death incarnate. Hob doesn’t know that he is one of few things in this world that has been Touched by Death and lived. Had he known this, he might not have been as confused as he is when his body slams into the floor of a dim, candle-lit cellar and he finds himself surrounded by hooded figures and a gold circle on the floor. That is all he manages to perceive before everything goes blurry and consciousness slips away from him again. Here in the Darkness.

Music When You Speak | 72,075 | The_KickIt_Domain / @ml-nolan

Summary: "I should have asked you earlier, but I don't suppose you'll still be in town tomorrow?" Hob says. "It'd be lovely to see you again." The man truly looks regretful as he says, "We won't." It was worth a shot. They hardly know each other. There's no reason for the sick film of disappointment settling over him. "Ah, well. I'm happy to have met you anyway," Hob says, subdued. "Are you doing anything right now?"

If I Please You | 112,103 | Moorishflower / @moorishflower

Summary: “I’ll guard you for a night,” Hob says, “and say I please you, you can either pay me for a day’s work, or keep me on ‘til you reach where you’re going.” “Do you know the way to Canterbury?” the lord asks, and Hob nods. “Oh, yes. It’s a few days’ ride, not more than three or four, by my memory.” “Then you shall have three days to please me, Robert Gadling.”

would you let me know?/ I could make some time if you wanted | 150,934 | BeatnikFreak / @beatnikfreakiswriting

Summary: Dr Hob Gadling's been assigned a new colleague to co-teach his second year class, Dr Dream Oneiros, who is both utterly beautiful and completely unable to act like, y'know, a human being. But Hob's nothing if not indefatigable, especially when faced with a fascinating man who probably needs to talk about his feelings more, and who listens to every stupid thing he says like it's the most profound poetry.

Master Reclist · Personal Masterlist · Blog Nav.

#dreamling #dream/hob #dreamling reclist #reclist #the sandman reclist #fanfic reclist

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oliverrevengers · 8 months

Text

officialising fever — katsuki bakugo/m.reader.

it was about five in the morning when y/n got an unexpected call from his somewhat boyfriend. katsuki and him were always living in a ‘will-they-won’t-they’ kind of relationship, everyone knew they loved each other, they know they love each other, but there’s heavy fear of commitment coming from the both of them.

but their domestically obvious acts made everyone confused with why they don’t just make it official. times like these, where katsuki gets so extremely sick that he is barely capable of calling only one person unless he wants to pass out and he immediately calls y/n. it made y/n’s head hurt as he strides towards the other boy’s dorm. why are they tip toeing around the bush? for five years now?

y/n had the key for katsuki’s room, because.. of course, he does. the soft sunrise was the only source of light in the room, the bundle of blankets that was once the katsuki bakugo, now lay in a small ball and let out a small groan to let y/n know that he is aware of his presence.

y/n couldn’t help but chuckle and close the door lightly behind as to not awake any one up. he walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge. his hand slowly rubbing up and down on katsuki’s blanket-covered back. “you alive?” y/n asked. katsuki turned around to look at y/n with a beet red face, raspy and groggy voice, “doesn’t feel like i am.”

“you toke something?” y/n pushed the blonde hair sticking to his boy’s forehead, completely unbothered by the sweat and stickiness from the fever. katsuki grumbled which translated to ‘yes, i did.’.

they both sat quietly together for a few moments. just katsuki’s sick, heavy breathing and y/n’s cold hand that has found itself under katsuki’s shirt on his bare skin. it was a chaste act, just comforting and loving. y/n suddenly spoke, “you ever want us to be official?”

“huh?” katsuki opened his eyes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, ‘the hell is this guy talking about so suddenly?’ katsuki thought himself. y/n sighed , glancing at the clock on the bedside table; only twenty minutes left until they both had to head to class. it was winter, the sun was barely out even though it was already morning.

“i don’t know.. i just.. i just want us to be together.”

“we are together. are we not together?” katsuki’s voice was gruff and anyone could easily tell that it was painful for him to speak. y/n knew it was selfish and mean to make him engage in this conversation when he was sick, but they had to have it at some point. y/n shrugged, “no, we are, but again we’re not?”

katsuki stared at the ceiling, “we do everything couples do.” he said. he could feel y/n’s hand leave his skin, “eh, not everything.” y/n chuckled, seemingly proud of his dumb joke. katsuki groaned, “i’m too sick for your horny.” they both laughed before falling into silence again.

katsuki’s mind started to wander. he knew why he wanted to prevent putting a label on him and y/n’s relationship. “i’m scared shit will hit the fan the moment we call each other boyfriend. all shit always hits the fan.”

y/n tilted his head to the side, looking at katsuki who continued to look up and not at him, “i’m not going anywhere, katsuki. the title won’t make it hurt less if something happens and we have to part ways, which, fyi, will never happen. i’ve been dealing and loving your ass for almost all our lives, it’s routine and peaceful, i’m staying for better and most importantly for all the worst.”

katsuki turned his head, finally looking at y/n, “you’re right.” he never did that with anyone. it was enormously hard for him to ever speak this freely, this calmly and openly, but that was always the case when he was with y/n.

he taught katsuki how to be. how to love and how he should be loved. how to take breaks and how to prioritise himself. how to deal with his anger. how to be good. katsuki knew that if it were not for this boy that he met when he was four years then he would be doomed.

y/n leaned down and placed a small kiss on katsuki’s lip. “i’ll get you sick.” the blonde mumbled, yet his hands cupped y/n’s face, keeping their lips close and noses touching.

y/n was late that day, and for all the next week that katsuki was sick.

#bnha #bnha x male reader #mha #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugo #mha x male reader #katsuki bakugo fanfiction #katsuki bakugo fluff

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yikimiki · 1 year

Note

Head empty just extremely horny and pervert eren with an oblivious, sunshine reader fucking for the first time <3

naur because I love a good corruption/Virgin killer concept 🥺♥️ can you imagine… you’re this sheltered and innocent girl moving away from your small town to go to college for the first time, and you have no idea what to expect. You’re a little scared when you go to parties and you can’t stay for long, everyone is so loud and extra that you take a long time to get used to it. You manage to make good friends because of your extroverted and open personality, but the gap of Real World Experiences is obvious to anyone who gets close to you.

Most friends, like Sasha and Mikasa, are very understanding and slowly want to show you the world in a non-threatening way. But then you meet Eren, mikasa’s step brother, and your world turns upside down.

Your crush couldn’t be more clear — your cheeks get warm and you stutter every time he’s around, playing with your fingers and refusing to meet eye contact. Eren thinks it’s cute and instantly gets interested in you. But not interested in the way in the innocent, child-like way you’re used to — Eren is predatory, and he can tell when someone hasn’t had a good taste of pleasure before. He sees you with perverted lenses, maps the curve of your perky ass and the bouncing of your breasts as you walk around, oblivious.

It’s not long until Eren is fisting his cock every time he sees you, running to the nearest bathroom so he can get rid of his aching boner. You just don’t know how fucking hot you are — those little skirts, those tank tops that make your tits spill out. It’s like you’re begging for him to fill you up with his cum. It’s like you’re trying to play innocent until he bends you over the kitchen table and fucks the brat out of you.

He has to convince Mikasa to take you to the party that Connie is hosting — she falls for his “it’ll be good for her” trap easier than he had expected. Then it’s on. Then, it’s Saturday night and your small hands are pushing that little black dress down your thighs, and Eren can’t think of anything else but the way you need to be fucked by him until the night is over.

You don’t drink, because you never do, but he wants you sober for this, so it doesn’t matter. Eren is smooth and velvety with his words, guiding you along until he’s pushing you against the wall and his tongue unceremoniously enters your mouth. His cock aches from the way you wince and moan against his lips, hands holding onto his jacket as his own, larger ones, explore the plump flesh of your ass. You whine about how everyone can see you two, but Eren doesn’t care. Your butt is half-exposed in the middle of the party and your nipples are poking through your mini dress, but you can only focus on the way that his hard cock presses against the curve of your hips, throbbing in need.

You lay down on that shitty mattress with Eren above you, not even sure that the bedroom door was closed, and you can only think about how you would’ve never done this a month ago. But then his big cock is teasing your entrance and you’re almost crying, sobbing about how much you want to be filled up. Eren only smirks, but cannot tease you further — he’s embarrassed he won’t last long because of how long he’s been waiting for this.

His cock enters you and you sob, nails digging onto his shoulders at the sharp pain. Eren shushes you, kisses your lips, and starts moving his hips. It’s not long until that pain starts melting away and you’re moaning his name, completely overwhelmed at the way he fills you up. And, of course, eren is no different — this is much, much better than he had imagined. This feels like heaven and hell combined, that soaked, wet pussy of yours clenching around his cock until he’s cumming, grunting and fucking the soul out of you. And you’re so pretty, so ruined, that he’s almost proud of it.

#eren smut #aot smut #eren x reader #attack on titan smut #eren x you #snk smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger x you

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isimpfortoomanypeople · 2 years

Note

Hellooo a billy Hargrove x reader where your Jonathan and wills sister and your dating billy, your mom want to meet this new boyfriend and everyone is coming over for dinner and tells the reader to bring her new mystery boyfriend

Meeting the Byers x Billy Hargrove x Fem Byers reader

Yours and Billy’s relationship was kept a secret for a while, till one day Will finds some love letters in your room and Joyce desperately wants to meet your new boyfriend

Warnings: mentions of Billy’s abuse and Neil. Soft boy Billy (Billy may seem out of character, but this fic is massively inspired by Dacre saying that he played Billy as a sensitive character). So much fluff

A/N: hi of course, I love that the reader is Joyce’s daughter as Joyce is the best mom in stranger things. I want to be adopted by her. I really hope that you enjoy this, it’s just pure fluff. Sorry if this sounds overly British as I’m from the U.K. apologises for all spelling and grammatical mistakes as I’m super dyslexic, enjoy

“YN is dating someone- ow!” Will howled in pain as his sentence was cut short by your foot kicking his leg from underneath the table.

You narrowed your eyes glaring daggers at your younger brother, tilting your head to the side staring him dead in the eyes. You saw him slightly cower from your icy glare that sent a chill down his spine. He shakily reached for the glass of water in front of him, gulping down the water to stop himself from speaking.

“Who are you dating honey?” Joyce asked

“There’s no one” you mumbled pushing the pile of mash potatoes around your plate, you diverted your eyes not wanting to look at the warm eyes of your mother as you knew that you’d crack.

All throughout your upbringing Joyce had taught you how to openly communicate with her, she built the bases of trust within your relationship so you felt like you could tell her anything. This was extremely helpful for all members of the household when Joyce divorced your dad, teaching you not to hold in your emotions till they reach boiling point and burst out in rage. You could gladly say, that even though your family wasn’t this stereotypical nuclear family that movies love to push for people to achieve, it was definitely had the most healthy family dynamic in all of Hawkins.

You loved your family with all your heart even when Will was being annoying and running his mouth.

Will doesn’t know exactly who you’re dating but he knows that there’s someone in the picture. He didn’t mean to snoop but he saw some love letters on your desk, he stopped reading the papers before his eyes reached the signed name, he felt gross seeing someone be so infatuated with his sister. Maybe it’s the protective brother thing? Believing that no one could ever be good enough to date you, if Will or even Jonathan found out who this boy was, you were sure that they’d both have an aneurism from the stress inflicted

Joyce slightly frowned over your refusal to tell her, she was your mother after all and knew that you avoided eye contact when you were hiding something, it was a habit you picked up as a kid. But Joyce didn’t want to force you to say anything you didn’t want to share, but she hated being in the dark about things especially involving her kids, so she turned to face Will who was still holding his empty glass in his hands.

“ Will why did you think that Y/N was dating someone?”

It took Will 5 seconds, he could feel the sweat pool at the top of his forehead. His eyes switching rapidly from Joyce’s eyes to yours, he was dead if he said anything but he knew it was only going to be a matter of days before Joyce found out herself. His breathing started to hitch as the two females held their breath in anticipation awaiting his response.

“I accidentally saw some love letters on her desk when I was looking for my calculator-“

“Will!-“

“Y/N, you should invite him over”

You snorted in response, biting your lip thinking about all the ways that this could end in disaster. Your siblings weren’t his biggest fans, and Joyce was dating hopper who would probably tell her about his reckless driving. you loved Billy and he loved you back but the thought of your family potentially hating him and rejecting your relationship was too much to think about. Especially as right now the room was starting to spin with this anxious feeling that was making your chest tighten with each breath.

“I’ll cook a meal, and Jonathan can invite Nancy too” you turned to finally look your mom in the face, her smile was beaming at you with big pleading eyes.

You sighed, you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. If you invited Billy there was a high chance that the people who mean the most to you would highly disapprove of your relationship, but if you don’t you would feel an immense guilt about saying no to your mom. Joyce never made you feel guilty about anything, but saying no to a person as warm and as caring as her, felt like kicking a puppy.

You nodded your head, Joyce squealed in delight clasping her hands together, asking questions about his dietary restrictions and if he liked x y and z.

Jonathan looked at you, his brows furrowed perplexingly. He was trying to recall if he had ever seen you in high school with anyone, but the more he thought about it the more confused he got. His mind was drawing a blank as there was never a single romantic encounter you had with a single person in that school, Jonathan was seriously questioning if this mystery boy was real.

——————————————————————————

Yours and Billy’s relationship was kept strictly behind closed doors, reserved only to late night drives and him leaving letters in your locker for you to read in between classes. It was his way of being close to you when he couldn’t be.

Billy respected your decision to keep the relationship a secret, even though it was killing him slowly not to be able to walk down the halls with his arm around your shoulders, showing off to everyone that you were his girl. Which is why his heart skips a beat every time he watches your face light up in a loving smile, pressing the papers close to your chest. he loves that he has that affect on you, he may not be able to be close to you but this was close enough.

Billy knew that you were super close to your family, that family meant everything to you. He’s aware that the other Byers siblings despised him with a passion, and Billy not having the best relationship with his own family, he wanted to do whatever he could to help to protect the one relationship he wasn’t able to achieve in his own life. Even if it became more and more increasingly difficult to bite his tongue as each malicious rumour was created about him following him around as if his life wasn’t hard enough.

“What’s wrong princess?” Billy asked rubbing small circles on your thigh, you shivered over the contact that you’ve been craving all week.

Billy noticed your silence and it made him feel uneasy, he even cranked up the stereo to blast his music to an obnoxious volume, just so you could complain that the music was too loud. But you sat deathly still while Led Zeppelin roared at an ungodly volume, to the point that Billy was uncomfortable from the ringing in his own ears. But you didn’t even utter a single word, just staring outside the window while Billy drove to lover’s lake.

He parked his car and turned off the stereo, he glanced over to you still in the same position as if you were frozen in time. A crafty smirk appeared across his face as an idea popped in his head. He knew exactly how to make you talk.

Billy’s lips latched their way on to your neck, his lips roamed the skin till he found that sweet spot just above your collar bone. He gently sucked on the soft delicate skin.

“Billy” you moaned arching your neck so he could get further access to that sweet spot not caring if it resulted in a purple bruise.

“She speaks” he snickered, you rolled your eyes at him smacking his arm in a playful manner.

“Not funny”

“I’m sorry princess” he pouted, tucking a stray hair behind your ear before resting his head in the crevice of your shoulder. He nuzzled in to your shoulder breathing in your perfume, relaxing further into you. He really did miss you for you were the only source of comfort his miserable life had, you felt like home to him and in this moment he knew that he wanted to spend forever this way, just you and him.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“My mom wants to invite you for dinner” you sighed resting your head upon his, running your fingers through his sandy curls.

“Does she know about us?”

“No but she knows that I’m dating someone, Will found your letters in my room and now she wants to invite you for dinner tomorrow evening”

“Oh” was all that Billy could say at that moment in time, all sentences he tried to form disappeared into thin air upon exiting his lips.

Truth be told he was scared, in fact he was terrified of meeting your family. Billy was made to believe that he was the problem in all of his failed relationships, he blamed himself for his mom leaving him at such a young age. Well at least that’s what Neil made him believe, Neil corrupted a young child so innocent and trusting to believe that if he wasn’t weak, if he was a better son, she wouldn’t have left them. Neil made Billy believe that he deserved each punch, each blow to the jaw, each kick to the chest when Billy curled into a ball to block out his farther’s attacks, it was all his fault.

Billy was made to believe that he was the issue why his family was so disruptive. He feared that he may have the same effect on your family and he will never forgive himself if that ever happened.

“What do you think about it?”

“Maybe it’s better to rip the band aid off now and get this over and done with? They know that I’m currently dating someone and my mom will not leave this alone. She’s like a detective, it’s only a matter of time before she finds out about us, I want them to find out about us on our own accords” you kissed the top of his head, breathing in his calming familiar scent of cigarettes mixed with his cologne. You could feel the anxiety starting to rise in your chest again, the uncertainty of their reactions was eating you alive.

“Are you sure princess? I’m not exactly family friendly” he murmured against your shoulder, he lowered his voice till the ending of his sentence came out into a whisper. Blinking away the tear that was forming

“I love you Billy more than ever, I don’t care what everyone thinks about you for I know that it’s all bullshit. Billy you aren’t the person you believe yourself to be” you softly smiled, lifting your head off his. You tucked two fingers underneath his chin, lifting his head forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“I mean that Billy, you aren’t the person he makes you believe that you are. I’m not going to let my anxiety rule me or rule us anymore. I’m not ashamed to be seen with you, I love you Billy and I know that they will love you too”

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, the corners of his glassy eyes crinkled as the smile reached his ocean eyes. You brushed away a tear that fell from his cheeks and placed a tender kiss on his forehead.

Billy still wasn’t use to hearing compliments thrown towards his direction, he was so use to having insults hurled towards him that he didn’t know how to respond to such genuine kindness. You had to keep on reminding him during the start of your relationship that it was okay for him to cry, it was okay to let down the concrete walls that had guarded his heart for years, it’s okay to let people in.

There was a small part of the inner wounded child of Billy that still fears that one day you may yell at him for being so soft, that somedays he didn’t believe that you were real, as he believe that he didn’t deserve you. But your kind warm eyes reminded him how grateful he was to have found someone like you.

“I love you princess”

“I love you too Billy”

——————————————————————————

“You look beautiful Y/N” Joyce beamed at you as you walked down the stairs. You decided to use the time you would have used to overthink the whole evening, biting on your nails till they became nubs, to focus on your make up. Not even getting stressed that you had to reapply your eyeliner as you couldn’t get the two eyes to look even, in fact you were grateful for the mistake as it distracted your racing mind.

“Thanks” you nervously replied, bunching the sides of your dress in your fists as you saw the clock ticking away. There was exactly 5 minutes till Billy finally meets your family.

“Don’t worry I was nervous too when Jonathan met my mom” Nancy whispered in your ear, she gave you a warm sympathetic smile. “Joyce has such a big heart it’s practically impossible for her to hate anyone”

You weakly smiled back at Nancy, hoping her words to be true. You knew that the rumours and what everyone believed to be true about Billy was bullshit, trying to remind yourself that as long as you love him that’s all that matters. You swallowed down your nerves, telling yourself ‘I’m done hiding anymore, everyone else be damned”

The door bell rang, your breath hitched. The moment has come, you were going to finally introduce the boy you love to your family.

“Hey Princess, you look beautiful” Billy grinned as you opened the door, he placed a gentle kiss to your cheek.

Billy showed up in his signature leather jacket with a red silky shirt with a few buttons undone, exposing the gold necklace he always wore like a good luck charm. He took your breath away every time you saw him in that shirt, Billy is definitely the most handsome person you had ever met.

“Like something you see” he whispered into your ear, smirking as he saw your cheeks blush as red as his shirt.

“Let’s go inside” you stuttered from his remark about your wondering eyes, but when he looks this good you couldn’t help but stare. You definitely were the most luckiest girl in the whole of Hawkins.

“Mom, Will, Jonathan, Nancy. This is my boyfriend Billy”

You looked at the table, the whole room drew to a pause.

Will spluttered on his drink, Jonathan looked at you in a utter state of shock and Nancy rapidly blinking not quite believing what she was seeing.

Y/N Byers is dating Billy Hargrove?!

“Billy it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Joyce” Joyce brightly smiled at him as she enclosed him in a tight hug. Billy was slightly taken aback by her kind gesture, he momentarily paused having to remind himself that this is something families are supposed to do.

“And you too Mrs Byers. It smells amazing in here”

“Oh please call me Joyce, now I hope that you’re hungry”

“Always”

——————————————————————————

“So Billy how long have you been dating my sister?” Jonathan questioned, scratch that Jonathan interrogated. Jonathan was being anything but subtle, sure he would have interrogated anyone who is dating his younger sister. But the fact it was Billy Hargrove made Jonathan hostility even more apparent.

“Jonathan!” Nancy hissed, sharply elbowing Jonathan in his ribs. He whimpered slightly in pain from his girlfriend’s reminder to be polite or at least civil.

“ I’ve been dating Y/N for 4 months now” Billy forcefully smiled at Jonathan’s direction. It was taking a lot in Billy not to shoot a snarky response towards Jonathan, but he was biting his tongue for your sake.

You cringed at your brother for creating a hostile environment, not even daring to give Billy a chance, this is exactly what you had dreaded. Maybe tonight was a mistake?

“So Billy I heard that you’ve been writing Y/N letters?” Joyce tried to lift the atmosphere that was falling cold with each second that ticked by.

“Yes mam, Your daughter is so beautiful and is the best thing that had ever happened to me, so I have to remind her that. even when I don’t share the same classes with her” Billy’s jaw unclench as his smile relaxed into a genuine one. Billy didn’t reveal the true reason why he had to write the letters in the first place, not wanting the atmosphere to return icy once more.

“I saw some poetry on one” Will piped up, he quick screwed up his face in embarrassment upon seeing Billy divert his gaze as his cheeks burnt red. Will you really should of kept that to yourself.

“I’m sorry Billy Hargrove writes poetry?” Jonathan asked, pressing his lips together into a thin line, trying to keep his laughter contained. This was the furthest thing he would ever expect Billy to do.

Nancy looked over at Billy with intrigue, awaiting his response. This was definitely the last thing she expected to hear tonight. But the so called bad boy having a soft spot, did make her heart melt slightly. She was starting to see Billy in a new light this evening, could it possibly be that she was wrong about Billy all along?

“Yeah” he muttered, lifting his fork to his mouth. He slightly regretted coming here tonight, not that he regretted writing those heartfelt words for you, but his hard outer layer that he wore as a protective cloak was being ripped away.

“I think that��s sweet” Nancy smiled

“Me too” add Will, who was also questioning his quick judgement he made about the Hargrove boy. He could see the way that Billy looks at you, he looks at you like someone so in love that it was nauseatingly cute. The way that he spoke about you so dotingly made Will smile, finally seeing his sister so happily in love with someone.

“I suppose I lucked out with this one” you gently laughed, threading your fingers through his.

Billy lifted his head to look at you, returning your loving smile. He truly was so lucky to have found you. It’s true what they say, the greatest thing in life is to love and to be loved in return, he never believed that he could find truth in those words till the moment he first laid eyes on you.

“I suppose I did too”

——————————————————————————

“They all seemed to love you”

“Apart from Jonathan”

“He’ll come around especially after seeing the look in Nancy’s eyes when she heard that you wrote me poetry, she’s definitely going to ask Jonathan to write her a poem or two” you smirked

“I love you princess”

“I love you more Billy” he cupped your cheeks placing his lips upon yours. You both melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck bringing him closer towards you.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. now I can finally take you on our first official date” He breathlessly spoke against your lips.

“Don’t you dare be late”

“Wouldn’t dream of it princess”, he sealed the distance between your lips with a quick kiss goodbye.

Billy watched you as you turned the handle walking into your house. He started the engine of his Camaro when he heard someone calling his name

“Billy wait”

He wound down his window, looking at Jonathan with bewilderment. Confused to why the hell Jonathan would chase after him?

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for being a dick back there, it’s just that Y/N is my sister and I want to protect her. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot but I’ve seen how much happier she is when she’s with you. But I swear to god Hargrove if you dare do anything to break her heart you’re dead, do you understand?”

Billy chuckled at Jonathan’s threat. He would never do anything to break your heart, he loves you, deeply and wholeheartedly loves you. He would rather die than ever be stupid enough to let that happen.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, I love her she’s my everything”

A/N: soft Billy owns my heart, in this fic he writes poetry may that be super out of character? I don’t care. I hope that you enjoyed this fic and requests are still open

#stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things billy #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x yn #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove imagine

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whumpcereal · 1 year

Text

tales from the kennel

hello! a new mini-series is a brewing, starting with this horrific two-parter focusing on justin and tony, whom we met here. part of the kennel universe (master list here), but set before will and tommy are kidnapped.

content warnings for: extreme dehumanization, referenced noncon, future noncon, future dubcon, forced nudity, references to human trafficking, all the gaslighting, branding, restraints, pet whump, captivity whump, filmed whump, creepy whumper, adult language

orpheus, part one

Tony has tried so hard not to think. Thinking, he knows, is no longer required of him. Not here. Probably not ever again.

He’s been sold. Fuck, the word makes his naked skin crawl. It still doesn’t make sense, no matter how long he’s been here. People are not bought and sold. Of course, Doc doesn’t call it that. Doc calls a kidnapping a “rescue;” trafficking is just “finding someone a good home.”

But when Tony lets himself think, he knows it isn’t true. He wasn’t rescued, and he doesn’t need to find a good home. He has a good home–or at least, he used to.

It hurts to think of the little yellow house he and Justin bought together. They barely got to live in it before–well, before all of this. But when Tony curls on the floor of the doghouse at night, when he closes his eyes, he can see the wallpaper they chose for the front hallway–birds of paradise on an orange field. He can see the rack of copper pots hanging over the kitchen island; they were too expensive, but Justin insisted that anyone who cooked like Tony deserved the very best.

It hurts the most when he remembers their bedroom. The overstuffed duvet, the matching bedside tables, the soft light of their twin lamps. Their bodies moving together in the dark. Safety. Comfort.

Tony has neither here. And no matter what Doc tells him about the “wonderful home” he’ll soon be packed off to, Tony knows there won’t be safety or comfort there either. He won’t have a home. There is no home without Justin. There is no Tony without Justin.

Tony knows he will disappear entirely once Doc sends him away. He’s already started to. It isn’t Tony who endures Doc’s training for the camera; it’s Fido. It’s Fido whose red collar is cinched a notch too tight. It’s Fido who sucks, who begs, who bends to be breached like a trained whore. It’s Fido who will be restrained in the waiting crate and shipped thousands of miles away.

It’s Fido who wears the still-healing brand of his new owner between his shoulder blades.

But it is Tony who feels the pain. Even if he knows better than to think, he can’t help but feel.

Tony feels the rough heel of Doc’s hand against the puckered skin of his new scar, and he groans before he can stop himself. It’s only been a few days since Doc came into the doghouse with the branding iron, and Tony’s skin still feels like it’s on fire. Tony doesn’t even know what the damn brand looks like, but he bets he could guess the shape by the pattern of the blood throbbing beneath his skin.

Doc only chuckles. “Oh, now, boy. I know it’s a little uncomfortable now, but think of what your new gift means! Someone loves you enough to claim you for his own. You’re so close to going home!”

“No!” Tony cries hoarsely, but his words dissolve into animal keening when Doc hooks his nails into the brand.

“Yes, you are,” Doc insists. His voice is still gentle, even as he digs further into Tony’s wound. “Don’t undo it by being a bad boy now.”

“Please!” Tony begs. The burning is almost as keen as when the iron first landed on his skin. Doc slaps Tony between the shoulders, and Tony’s knees come out from under him; his belly lands hard against the cold floor.

“You don’t want to ruin your gift, is that right?” Doc chides, letting his hand slip up the back of Tony’s neck and into his dark hair. He scratches idly at Tony’s scalp.

The humiliation is a brand all its own.

“You know, it’s an honor to be adopted by someone so important. You’re going to have so much fun, and I know you’re going to be so good for him. He’s tuning in all this week so that he can get excited for your arrival next weekend. Imagine someone so important giving up so much of his time for a little rescue like you. Aren’t you a special boy, Fido?”

Tony shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about what’s coming. Doc’s already showed him the crate he’ll travel in, the special hood he’ll wear to dampen his senses, the fur-lined cuffs built into the box to keep him still. He’s been promised drugs that will keep him calm for the trip. Tony doesn’t know exactly where he’s being sent, but he knows it’s far. Far from here. Far from the little yellow house.

Far from Justin.

“I want to go home,” Tony says before he can stop himself. “Please, I–”

Doc’s hand freezes in Tony’s hair. “But you are going home!”

Tony shakes his head. “No. You don’t–I–please, Doc, Please. I’ll be good. I promise. Just–”

“Don’t make the people think you’re ungrateful, Fido. Not all of my rescues get the opportunities you have.”

Tony wants to scream. Yes, he’s had so many ‘opportunities’ since he’s been here. The opportunity to be restrained and groped and filmed and drugged and starved and beaten. To be coupled like a brood mare with any one of a dozen faceless people in red collars. To know exactly how weak he is, to know for certain that it took almost no time to break him entirely.

But he doesn’t scream. Because he knows better.

“I’m grateful,” Tony forces himself to say. “I-I–” he swallows around the lump in his throat, “I just don’t want to leave you.”

He pitches his eyes to the floor, but it doesn’t matter: Doc knows he’s lying. The man bursts into laughter.

“Oh, my sweet little pup. What a performance!”

“I’m not–”

Doc’s hand presses against the brand, and Tony is silenced by the searing pain.

“I know you have mixed feelings about leaving, and I know it isn’t because of me.”

Tony stares up at Doc through the blur of his tears. The pain in his back is white hot; the knot in his chest is worse. He never mentions Justin to Doc. He learned early on that there was no point; Doc won’t give him any answers. But now that he’s being sent away–

“The little mutt will be just fine without you,” Doc says. “You haven’t seen him in months anyway, have you? You should be used to it by now.”

But Tony will never be used to it. They didn’t get enough time. They’d only been married for a week when Doc found them. When Doc took Tony’s wedding ring, it hadn’t even had the chance to wear a groove in his skin. It was like he’d never worn a ring at all.

“Please.” Tony shifts his weight back onto his stomach. He lays his arms prostrate on the floor. “I have to see him.”

Doc shakes his head. “I don’t know, boy. Don’t you think it will be harder? He isn’t coming home with you. He might be jealous. I don’t want you to feel badly about your good luck–and I don’t want it to be more difficult for him. I haven’t found a place for him. Not yet.”

Tony closes his eyes. He hopes Doc never finds a place for Justin, that there’s still a chance that Justin will make it back to the little yellow house, even if it’s without him.

“I want to–to-to say goodbye. Even if it’s hard.”

He doesn’t say that he wants to say goodbye because he’s almost certain it will be the last time he sees his husband. At the very least, it will probably be the last time Justin sees him alive. Tony is under no illusion that he will escape the situation waiting for him overseas. He knows he will be used until he is a dry husk, and then he will be crumpled up and thrown away. He can only hope that someday, Justin might have closure. That Justin will sit at the kitchen island with another man who will make him enchiladas and kiss that spot on the back of his neck and banish the nightmares that will surely haunt Justin for the rest of his life.

Tony doesn’t have a choice. His nightmare is going to swallow him whole. But with the time he has left–he needs Justin to know that it will be alright, even if Tony won’t be there to see him through.

Doc chuckles softly and tucks his fingers under Tony’s chin, forcing Tony to meet his eye. “You are an affectionate little thing, aren’t you?”

“Please. Before–” Tony chokes on the lump on his throat, but he holds Doc’s gaze, “--before I go home.”

Doc’s eyebrows raise. His mouth curves into a grotesque smile. “Well, look who’s decided to be a good boy.”

“I won’t fight,” Tony whispers. “I promise.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

As though to prove it, he manages not to flinch when Doc shifts his grip and presses into the soft meat of his cheeks. Doc dips his thumb into Tony’s mouth and presses his tongue flat. Tony stays still. He wants Doc to believe him. It’s the only way that he will get to Justin.

Doc sighs, slipping the calloused pad of his thumb back and forth over Tony’s tongue. “You understand that you’ll have to follow my rules? That you have to be obedient if you expect a treat?”

Tony does his best to nod, even as Doc’s touch teases the opening of his throat.

“And you’ll be a good boy on your trip home?”

Another half nod. Doc pulls his thumb backward, but he keeps Tony’s tongue pinned down.

“Then I’ll let you see him,” Doc says thoughtfully. “But you won’t say goodbye.”

Tony’s brow wrinkles, and Doc laughs.

“You won’t say anything, actually. You won’t speak at all.”

Tony’s mouth twitches in an attempt to protest, and Doc seizes his tongue and yanks. The thin skin that connects his tongue to the base of his mouth flares with pain. Tony whines involuntarily, but Doc doesn’t let go.

“He doesn’t know what it is you’ve been up to all this time. He doesn’t know that you’re being adopted. I didn’t think it was good for him to know, since the two of you were never going to find a home together. Makes it easier to wean him, doesn’t it?”

Tony squeezes his eyes shut again. He and Justin found a home together. They just never expected it to be ripped away from them like this.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy,” Doc snaps.

Tony complies. What else can he do? He promised he wouldn’t fight, didn’t he?

“You’re not going to make any of this worse by spilling the beans. You may agree to stop fighting, but if he finds out you’re headed home, he won’t. He’s already a naughty little thing, and I don’t particularly want to deal with any more guff from him.”

For the sparest of seconds, Tony’s heart soars. Justin hasn’t given up. He’s still fighting. He can make it. He will.

But Doc’s voice brings him back to earth.

“See, he isn’t as valuable to me as you are, Fido. It’s going to be hard to find him a place. And I can’t have you making it any harder than it needs to be. I’ve got limited resources, you know? So, here’s the deal: I’ll let you see him if you promise not to say a word.”

Tony nods again, even as his tears finally break free. He doesn’t want Justin to see him bitted or muzzled. He wants to kiss his husband, to tell him that he loves him one last time. He wants to say goodbye. But if this is all Tony’s got, he will take it. He’s learned to take what he can get.

Doc finally lets Tony’s tongue go, wiping his thumb on Tony’s cheek. “But it’s a little performance test for you, boy. I’m not going to make this easy for you. I want you to show me that you mean what you say.”

“I–” Tony rasps. He pushes himself up on his hands and clears his throat. “I don’t understand.”

“You are not leaving the doghouse until it’s time to pack you up. That means I’ll be bringing the mutt to see you. And I expect you to do what you’ve been trained to do.”

Tony’s gut freezes. His eyes drift up to the camera closest to them.

He can’t. He wants Justin more than anything, but he can’t subject Justin to this. Not when he won’t even be able to explain. There will be too many things he can’t explain. The cameras. The brand on his back. How sorry he is. And how much he loves Justin.

It’s too much to ask.

“But–”

“I will bring him here, and you will show him what you’ve learned. If you want to see him before you go home, those are the expectations. Take it or leave it.”

“He doesn’t know–” Tony tries, but Doc’s palm comes down hard between his shoulder blades.

“And he won’t know.” Doc leans close, pressing harder against Tony’s ruined skin. “If you say a word, I’ll kill him.”

“No!” Tony cries. Justin has to get out. He cannot die here.

“I told you, he isn’t that valuable to me. The only reason I haven’t put him down yet is because my Annie’s taken a bit of a shine to him. She’s never had a pet of her own, and I like to see her happy.”

Tony feels bile rising in his throat. Justin is no one’s pet. Maybe that’s all that Tony will ever be now, maybe that’s a foregone conclusion, but he has to believe that Justin still has a chance.

“You can’t–”

“I won’t, so long as you show us all what a good boy you are. I’m not even going to muzzle you; you’ll get a chance to really show off your training. I’m sure your new owner will be watching, and you’ll want to make sure he’ll be excited to see you.”

Tony collapses over his knees. He’s going to be sick. He can’t do this. He can’t make Justin do this. He doesn’t know what Doc’s done with Justin, but Tony knows he isn’t a red collar. Tony would know if he were. Tony’s body knows every red collar, even the ones he hasn’t seen; he’s tasted them and felt them move inside. None of them were Justin. Tony would never mistake Justin’s touch.

He can’t make Justin a part of this–but he knows that he has to. Doc has him trapped, sure as if he were already packed in the crate. He should never have tried to bargain. He doesn’t have the head for it anymore. After all, he isn’t meant to think.

“You can’t go back on it now, boy,” Doc murmurs. His hand slips below the brand, scratching a gentle line up and down the knots of Tony’s spine. “And you get to say goodbye. Just like you wanted. Only not in so many words.”

Tony doesn’t move. He falls into the gentle touch, just the way he’s been trained, and he stays still. There’s nothing he can do anyway. He knows if he fights now, Justin is as good as dead.

“It’s romantic, in a way,” Doc says wistfully. Tony can hear the smile in his voice. “Do you know the story of Orpheus, Fido? My Annie has a big book of Greek myths that I used to read to her before bed, and that one was always her favorite. Made her cry, but I think she liked the tragedy of it all.”

Tony knows the story, but he can’t remember. Not right now. The only thing he can recall is Justin’s face. He shouldn’t have asked to see him. He should have let himself be packed away and lived with the memories they’ve already made. He curls in on himself. Doc keeps stroking his back.

“Orpheus had a chance to rescue his love from the underworld. All he had to do was to lead her out without turning around to look at her. He just had to trust that she was there, and they’d both be free. But he turned around just as they were crossing the threshold, and she was pulled back into the underworld forever. Because of his weakness.” Doc leans close to Tony’s ear. “This is your Orpheus moment, boy. Don’t be weak.”

Tony can’t stand it. “You’re not giving me the chance to save him from anything,” he says, his voice toneless and hollow.

Doc’s fingers crook against Tony’s cheek. “No, because I’ve already rescued you both.”

Tony should laugh, but he only squeezes his eyes shut again. He’s dreamed about rescue, but he knows now that it will never come. Not for him. There is no escaping the snare he’s just set for himself.

“But,” Doc says thoughtfully, “I am giving you the chance to protect him.”

“From you.”

Doc’s hand withdraws. “From himself. He’s got to learn, and you’re going to teach him. You’re going to show him what a good boy looks like.”

Tony looks up at Doc, the older man’s image distorted by the pane of his tears. “Why do you hate us so much?”

“Oh, Fido. I don’t hate you. I could never hate any of my rescues. You’re all such vulnerable creatures. But just like you’re going to protect your mutt, I have to protect you. I know it’s hard, giving up what you thought your life would be. But I saved you from something so much worse.”

It’s bullshit, but Tony is sure that Doc believes it. The man abducts innocent people and strips away their humanity like bits of old wallpaper, but he believes that he’s serving the greater good. Tony only wishes he could believe too. It would make all of this so much easier if he could believe that this torture was saving him from something worse.

But he knows better. He knows that someone else would have driven by the service station eventually; he knows that if they had been smarter, if they hadn’t gotten in Doc’s truck, they would be at home in the yellow house right now. They wouldn’t have died. Someone would have come. Doc didn’t save them from anything. Doc stole them.

“It’s hard for you and the mutt, I know. But I can’t always place everyone together, so the separation was necessary. So you could get used to the idea. But I’m not a monster, Fido. And so I’m going to give you this chance to ease your parting. But if I let you off your leash, I know you’d run amok. And that’s not modeling good behavior, is it? So, there are rules. It’s as simple as that.”

“You’re insane,” Tony says. “You said you’d kill him–”

Doc swats at Tony’s nose. “Bad dog. That’s enough. The mutt won’t be put down if you do as you’re told. But if you don’t, it’s no skin off my nose. This isn’t a charity, even if it is a rescue operation. Cost-benefit analysis. You’ve earned your keep these last few months; the mutt is a drain on our resources. But this little guest spot might just be his meal ticket until I figure out what to do with him.”

Tony opens his mouth, to protest or beg, he isn’t sure which, but Doc’s hand stops his voice.

“I’ve heard enough out of you. I think your new rules apply starting now. You make a peep, I won’t even go to the trouble of bringing him in. No bark. Do you understand?”

Tony’s chest heaves with a silent sob, but he nods. He knows Doc is as good as his word.

“Hup hup,” Doc commands, and Tony pushes himself onto all fours, even as his limbs tremble beneath him. Doc pulls a leash from his belt loop and clips it to the ring on Tony’s collar. “Fido, place.”

Tony’s cheeks color with shame, but he crawls to the center of the glass box, his leash dragging behind. He knows that this is the spot with the most advantageous camera angles, that he’s expected to hit his mark so that his viewing audience gets exactly what they are paying for.

“Sit.”

Tony complies and lets his bare ass fall back over his heels. He sets his hands flat on the floor in front of him. Doc crouches down and tethers his leash to the anchor in the floor.

“Stay.”

As if there were any other option.

Doc rises and goes to the locked door. He looks back over his shoulder. “You remember your rule, Fido. I’ll be right back with the mutt.”

...to be continued

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @highwaywhump, @squishablesunbeam, @hold-him-down, @whumpsday, @sowhumpful, @termsnconditions-apply, @irishwhiskeygrl, @deltaxxk, @d-cs, @whumpinggrounds, @canislycaon24, @considerablecolors, @starlit-darkness, @scp-1296, @flowersarefreetherapy, @morning-star-whump, @whumpwhittler, @susiequaz12, @whump-world, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @tasteywhumpee, @whumplr-reader, @sad-boys-anonymous, @whumpzone

#the kennel #tales from the kennel #doc barker oc #tony romero oc #justin huang oc #whump writing #pet whump #star crossed lovers #these boys need hugs

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jelliezellie · 1 year

Text

A Hug - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: The reader here could be another captain or a cadet—doesn’t really matter. Also, could be read as platonic I think? There’s a lot of teasing here, I think it could be kinda like how he acts with Hange. Also, this is more of a fluffy, cozy chapter instead of a super well-written chapter because I am extremely tired and dealing with a lot of medical problems.

You woke up, your eyes blurry as you looked around your room. The sun was setting and you tried to sit up, only to be met with excruciating, throbbing pain in your head. You groaned in pain, collapsing on your pillow. Your face scrunched in pain.

Your door opened and you turned to see who it was. Levi walked in and pulled a chair next to your bed, crossing his legs as he sat down. He had tea in his hand. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Your brow rose. “What? What happened?”

He sighed. “Did you hit your head that hard?” Although he sounded annoyed, his brows rose in worry.

You shrugged and closed your eyes. “Oh, God. What did you do?”

Levi took a sip of his tea, then set the cup on your bedside table. “We were sparring in front of the cadets.”

“And?”

He looked away as guilt ate at him inside. “And… I knocked you to the ground. Hard.” He sighed, standing up. “Nevermind—I just came here to check on you.”

“No,” you protested, reaching your hand out. “Stay. You aren’t going to leave me all alone, are you?”

“I’m considering it,” he responded but sat down anyway. He frowned, his brows furrowing. “How much does it hurt?” He asked, putting his hand on your forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up.”

You chuckled, the laugh hurting your head. “It’s fine. I’m alright, Levi.” As you said it, he nervously bit his lip. He looked down at you, worry lacing his eyebrows together. You sat up even though it hurt and looked at him. “I’m alright,” you persuaded. “It just hurts a little bit. Accidents happen, even to you.”

He opened his mouth briefly to object but sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, wow. Captain Levi Ackerman is apologizing?” You joked.

“It’s something I need to do more often,” he mumbled.

You put your hand on his knee, giving him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay. Lighten up.” He looked at you. He wondered how, even though you were in pain because of him, could you smile at him like that? He wished you wouldn’t comfort him when you were the one in pain.

“Do you need anything? Food? Water?”

You grinned teasingly. “A hug.”

He scowled at that, rolling his eyes. “Not funny, rookie.”

You couldn’t help but smile wider at the nickname. He called you that your first day and continued to call you that, even as you worked your way up the ranks. You could surpass him and he’d still call you a rookie.

Still, you found yourself enjoying his reaction. “C’mon, don’t be so prideful, Captain. You’re not too skilled to give out hugs, are you?”

“Skill isn’t the issue. I’m not hugging you, rookie.” He quirked his lips in an annoyed ghost of a smile. “You’re just asking me because you want to brag about it to Hange.”

“And because I want to humiliate you.”

“Right. You can’t ever seem to forget to do that,” he grumbled.

Ever since you met Levi, you tried to embarrass him. You wanted to wipe the cocky yet annoyed scowl off of his face. It worked a few times, like when you challenged him to a fight and you beat him (barely). And when you pushed him off of his horse. That’s not to say that he hasn’t humiliated you countless times, too, though.

You grinned. “Go ahead, Levi. Hug me.”

He scoffed. “No.” He wouldn’t admit it, but he enjoyed your teasing. It kept his days a little light-hearted and playful.

You frowned, not wanting to cross his boundaries. “Alright, fine, Captain. Stay anti-social.”

“Giving up so easily, rookie? That’s out of character.”

You chuckled. “You’re making it seem like you want me to convince you to hug me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose that godforsaken determination of yours.” He took another sip of his tea.

“What kind of tea is that?” You questioned.

His brow rose. “Black.”

“Can I have some?”

“No.”

You frowned. “But I’m parched!” You exclaimed dramatically. “You’re really just going to let me die from dehydration?”

Levi squinted, looking at you. “Probably.” He took another sip.

“You’re no fun, Captain.”

He sighed in defeat, handing you the cup. “Just take the rest. I don’t want to drink after you.” You grinned and drank the tea happily. Levi watched you. “You certainly seem to be feeling better, rookie.”

The pain was still a lot, but as long as you didn’t move around too much, it wasn’t awful. You smiled, flicking his head. “That’s for throwing me to the ground.”

“Are you actually mad?”

“You can apologize to me with a hug, y’know.”

Levi glared at you. “You’re insufferable, brat.” He sat on your bed and pulled you into a hug. Then, he leaned close to your ear and whispered, “I’m going to get you back for this, rookie.” “Not if I do it first.”

#levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi fanfiction #levi fanfic #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman x reader #aot x reader #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #shingeki no kyojin levi

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seongminflirt · 3 days

Text

devotion — allen 앨런 (m)

2.7k words. succubus au, “man of god” au, afab reader. corruption kink, coercion?? he wants to all along, but understandably has his qualms. is it considered somnophilia if it’s a wet dream?? i’ll leave this warning anyway. allen’s a virgin, and about to finish seminary school. somewhat inspired by the fact that i attended catholic mass semi-regularly as a child.. enjoy :)

the slick sounds of your mouth working allen’s aching cock wakes him before the pleasure does. the instant panic he feels does nothing but harden him more, and you scent that; the twitch against your velvet tongue and petal-soft lips tells you more than his mouth manages to do. nearly letting out a coo to quell his fears, you comfort him wordlessly by bobbing your head a few times, swallowing him expertly deeper with no visible effort.

the whites of his eyes swallow near-black irises, lips fumbling uselessly over words, trying to make sense of the ones he wants to use. beyond cute, you think, watching him with growing interest. round cheeks flushed, he finally sputters a few words. “who..” he pauses, blinking and swallowing thickly, adam’s apple working up and down. “who are you? you’re not supposed to be here!”

sliding from his length with a lewd pop, you decide to humor him, your amusement palpable. “be where? you should be more specific..” you tease, tonguing over his slit and tasting his sweet, virgin energy.

fuck, it’s been too long since your last feeding, and your eyes nearly roll back at the taste. but, you have to remind yourself that you’re in complete control of this situation, this illusion. he tries, red faced, to voice his opposition, but he can only let out a soft groan in response, shuddering under your ministrations.

gotcha.

your tail lifts and sways behind you, the simpering cat who caught the mouse—eager to devour. when he catches a glimpse of your extra.. extremity, it takes only a second more for him to spot the horns sprouting from your skull. all of the pieces almost visibly slide into place, and his shaking hand thrusts out blindly for his bedside table. feeling for, and ultimately grabbing, the cool, tinkling beads of his rosary. he grips it, white knuckled, in both hands and begins to fervently pray. watching with eclectic delight as he moves from bead-to-bead, your smile only grows.

“our father.. w-who art in heaven, hallowed be thy n-name..” his white teeth chatter from the effort it takes to voice his prayer. hoping that someone, that God himself, would banish you from his sight.

not that you were wholly unpleasant to look at, nor was the sensation something of pain or mystery. allen.. touched himself quite frequently before giving his life over to the Lord. he saved him before, but where is he now? allen does want to be freed from this torment, yet, at the same time, deep down he hopes that the Father would decide to turn his face away.. just this once.

is that so wrong? it is, he knows it is, but something about you, about this, feels too much too good.

the human lets out a harsh breath, squeezing his eyes shut before he can witness you taking him to the hilt again. he very nearly curses, heaven forbid. “thy kingdom.. thy kingdom..”

you release him from the vacuum of your sinful mouth, practically purring as you encourage him to continue. running your hand up and down his spit-slick shaft, you tilt your head at him. “go ahead. thy kingdom, what?”

“come..” he rasps, throat dry, the word alone has him tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge. his abstinence has only made him more sensitive, and he doesn’t trust himself enough to win this battle.

as if you can sense his impending release (which you most certainly can), you free him from your grip entirely. allen curls up and inward, body protesting the loss of friction.

seeing this, you let out a cruel laugh, and he sobers in an instant. this little game that you’re playing needs to come to an end, for his eternal soul rests in the balance. not to mention the compromise of the sacred covenant he made with his Savior.

oh God..

“this can’t go any further!”

“and why not?”

he only grips his rosary tighter, the glass beads bruising his palm serve to ground him as he comes down and back to reality. looking around his tidy dorm room, his eyes land on the open bible on his desk. “besides the obvious? do you even know who i am and where this is?”

slowly ascending his body, you perch yourself on his chest. he finds himself almost hypnotized by each move, and he doesn’t even flinch when you lean in close and grip his chin to bring his face back to yours. “i know exactly who you are, allen ma.”

your voice tickles his ears, his chest burning with a hidden flush under your heated gaze. he’s not sure he’s ever heard his name said that way, like it was the answer to everything.

letting him go, you give a soft pat to his warm cheek. he blinks in surprise, the evidence of his need protruding lewdly from the top of his slacks twitches and smears fresh preejaculate across your bare stomach.

allen shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. and, when he settles himself, brows furrowed in concentration, he uses the firmest tone he can muster. “in God’s name, i command you leave this place..”

you sneer, upper lip curling distastefully. “there is no God here..”

his blood runs cold.

whereas before allen had been solely focused on himself, he now becomes acutely aware of your state of undress. his eyes, unsure where to rest, dart down to your cleavage, your chest pressed flush to his dress shirt. he admonishes himself with a punishing bite to his lower lip before his eyes rush to the ceiling.

were you naked this whole time? it’s as if he’s a puppet on a string--his heart screams one thing, but his body disobeys and does another.

he tries weakly to roll out from under you, not really wanting to free himself but feeling the moral obligation and the weight of his decision. “my virginity belongs to the Lord. i took an oath, and i intend to see it through.”

oh my, he looks so serious, stony face set into stubborn determination. it’s hard to control the giggle that bubbles up your throat, so you decide not to. “you know this is a dream, right?”

the crease between his brows smooth in an instant, the fire in his gaze replaced with something like confusion. “what?”

“don’t you remember what you were wearing before you drifted off?” you supply, briefly glancing down with an impish gleam.

his gaze follows yours, unbelief melting away when he glimpses the starch white roman collar around his throat. the contrast between his hard cock sticking up from his black slacks, the very same he wears with his uniform every day, and his classy black dress shirt buttoned up all the way is nearly comical. the corruption of something so clean, so holy, is almost too much to bear..

but, it also embarrasses him in the best way. he covers his face, pink-eared and visibly uncomfortable. “do i really have to be in full clerical gear in this fantasy of yours?”

your lips pull up in answer, lethally pointed canines glinting in the moonlight. “yes.”

he scrubs the hand down his face, but says nothing more. grabbing each of your shoulders gently, he tries to peel you from him. “dream or not, it doesn’t change the fact that i can’t break my vow of abstinence.” no matter how bad he wants to.

“but, it isn’t being broken..” you say, your voice the very picture of innocence. “you’re in a dream, and outside of it your virginity will remain very much intact.”

he can’t help but wonder if maybe this is how adam fell. the serpent, through eve, shattered his weak resolve and tricked him into sinking his teeth into that fruit, and, with it, sealing the fate of man.

as if seeing the inner struggle brewing just beneath the surface, you hum, dragging a long, dagger-like nail down the center of his chest. “how about we start with a kiss?” you start, pouting your lips in fake understanding. “would that make things easier for you?”

allen’s mouth pulls into a thin line. he shouldn’t do this, he really shouldn’t do this. but, instead, he closes his eyes, practically hiding behind his lids. “yes.”

the admission has your eyes crinkling, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. when your mouths meet, the softness of his trembling lips takes you by surprise.

he moves them in a barely there caress, hesitating only a mere moment before leaning in fully. you greedily part yours to tilt your head and lick a fat stripe along the seam of his lips. his answering gasp gives you just enough time to deepen the kiss.

allen shudders when your hot tongue slides against his, a soft moan echoing inside your mouth. somewhere far off, you register the slide and clatter of beads before his hands are on the dips of your waist.

his hands and mouth are uncoordinated, but they move against you almost.. eagerly. your teeth drag against his lips, tugging at the lower one as you part.

he blinks groggily, searching your face for the reason for the pause. you simply grin at the innocent gesture. “oh, baby, was that your first kiss?” your question has allen’s face burning in shame. sputtering despite the fact that the answer was, no, no it wasn’t.

with that, you’re reaching down between your bodies and gathering the fresh pearl of precum that wells up at his slit with your thumb. he twitches under you, crying out softly as you work it over the length of him. you kiss the backs of your teeth. “you couldn’t keep from running that mouth earlier, but now you can’t form a single thought.” you pinch his warm cheek, giving his head a little shake. “what’s in that pretty little head of yours?”

his mouth works up and down dumbly, sweat darkening the chestnut roots of his hair. the room practically echoes with the wet sounds of skin-on-skin. to say he’s distracted is an understatement. “please.”

“please what?”

allen licks his dry lips. “i need more.”

using the same hand that grips him, you drag the blunt head through your slick. the moan expelled from his lungs is enough encouragement to barely dip him inside, slipping out again to circle your entrance.. teasing him.

“yeah? thought you couldn’t?”

he throws his head back, dual sensations of frustration and exasperation overwhelming him. does he have to ask for it explicitly? any drop confidence he had before fizzles out before it can truly spark.

before he can even whine his discontent, the succubus finally, finally, finally gives him what he needs. his relief comes as you press down, the tight entrance of your cunt giving brief resistance before opening up to welcome him all the way in.

his mouth gapes in a silent moan, eyes squeezing tightly shut. heart pounding wildly, head echoing with the sound as he spares a peek in your direction.. daring to crack one eye, and then both.

you’re sin incarnate. tits pushed up into his face, nipples hard. the thought of taking one of them between his teeth is a flash through his mind.

his hips surge impossibly deeper, the broad head of his cock pressing a lewd kiss to your cervix. taken off guard by his sudden movements, your head falls to the crook of his neck, burying your face there. as your hips bounce down into his, your tongue traces along the seam of his dress shirt.. following it to the hollow of his throat, dipping in and tasting the salty-sweet sweat that collects there.

for someone who was so adamantly against having you here, allen stays remarkably silent after you start riding him. his hands on your waist working you up and down the length of him, your cunt hugging him nice and tight. then, before you can do anything to stop it, you are moving effortlessly through the air.

allen lifts you easily, dropping you onto the bed with a satisfied glint in his eyes, lining his cock back up with your entrance and driving it inside. a squeal of delight leaves you, your nails raking down his back and tearing his nice shirt into ribbons—all held in place by that goddamn collar.

as if he can read your mind, one of his hands comes up to unbutton and wrench the ruined shirt from his body. letting it hit the ground without a care. your warm hands explore the freshly unveiled expanse of skin, exploring every curve and ridge of him. he allows you to indulge yourself, but he hardly waits a moment more before he’s sliding desperately in and out of you. excited by your hands on him and the intoxication of having you wrapped around him.

your head falls to the pillow, biting down on your lips, hard. you’re surprised by this human, this supposed man of God. sure, you had confidence in your abilities, but he’s done a complete 180 and seems to be more into this than you could’ve imagined.

and he’s good, you admit, really good.

allen’s able to maintain a consistent rhythm for a surprising amount of time before his pace begins to change and falter. his brows wrinkling as his hips slow to roll and grind into yours, a few small moans leaving him as he presses wet kisses across your jaw. too sensitive to fuck into you harder.

your heart flutters at the small gesture, but you must stay focused on the task at hand. you can feel his energy swell, and you know he’s close.

allen, although embarrassed by his lack of stamina, knows it’s only natural. and, with the way you’re squeezing his cock, his comfort comes in knowing you’re close too.

spurred on by his impending climax, your body winds tight as your end nears. rocking your hips against his desperately, needing to feel him.. to collect his energy, you correct yourself.

as allen begins to topple over the edge, your mouth collides with his. white explodes behind his eyes as he fills you to the brim.. years of pent up frustration coming to fruition.

breaths are exchanged in the dark as you both lay there, panting and still connected in the most intimate way.

when even the breaths are silent, allen finally regains enough energy to open his heavy eyes.. finding you already staring at him. your eyes filled with a strange, uncharacteristic sadness.

allen opens his mouth to speak, to ask you what’s the matter, but he’s suddenly jerked awake.

“hey!!” he calls, voice froggy with sleep. “what the fuck?” the words are sour in his mouth. where could you have gone?

moving to sit straight up in bed, his head whips around.. yet, you’re nowhere to be found. the only evidence that remains of your presence comes in an embarrassing wetness in the front of his sleep pants, and a dull ache in his chest.

——

allen enters the shiny, wooden confessional.. he finds almost an easy comfort in the sickly sweet incense that fills the cramped space, and in the relative anonymity the lattice screen provides him.

or at least he did.

he never used to like going as a child, two tiny fists hammering against his big brother’s back as he carried him slung over one shoulder; he never saw the importance of telling someone his sins. it felt far too private. and it was not until he started seminary and learned how liberating it can truly be, and that feels like a lifetime ago.

now, taking a seat on the wooden bench, he nervously runs his sweaty palms down the length of his thighs to dry them.

this is like any other confession. just like he’s done time and time again: confess, pray, and sin no more.. except this time it feels different. something about the air feels almost sharp and foreboding as he sits there in front of his priest, his mentor and confidant.

after a long pause, sharing polite silence as allen collects his scattered thoughts, he clears his throat. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. my last confession was three weeks ago..” he begins, voice small.

#cravity hard hours #cravity smut #allen smut #allen hard hours #sorry for the weird formatting but i thought it important to see both of their thoughts #pls let me know what y’all think 🤭🤭🤭

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hanakihan · 1 year

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I craved some disturbing horror (because apparently that’s what my job is) so I also happened to have a fever and had a train thought

Kinda warning because discussion of kinda gross, crime related stuff, overall torture of jinchul (because that’s my favorite thing to do) and so on

Having mana and be a high ranked hunter is cool and honestly can save your and someone’s life

But considering the amount of insane shit humans do I thought about post rewind jinchul

just a normal human doing his investigator job but being absolutely unfortunate enough to end up in grasp of some really fucked up criminal

like there’s no some magical power, no eldrich god to come to rescue

all it took was a hit on head from back and now he’s at mercy of someone else

he chaotically tries to think of a plan to escape, to live and it’s a such a mess in his head because while he’s cool headed most of the time it doesn’t mean he has no fear

you may be an investigator or another victim, it truly doesn’t matter when your hands are tied and you’re completely locked with some psychopath who you’ve been investigating

hours and then days of him being confined here, barely getting anything to eat, awaiting for supposed painful death while suffering from other things. and then it becomes worse when he realizes he’s not the only one alive for now and he now also needs to prioritize other victim as well. one moment he’s beaten and tortured, next this person forces them to play a normal family at a dinner table presented with meal of extremely questionable origin. and jinchul sits here, hands finally free, and wondering is it a good moment to stab their capturer and go for an escape. but where’s guarantee they’ll succeed getting out from a house they’re not familiar with, where’s the chance door isn’t locked, where’s the chance they’ll survive outside. where’s the guarantee that if they fail they’ll live to see another day.

Like yes jinchul being an investigator in post rewind is amazing but also from personal experience on what some humans are capable of, he’s insanely lucky to have jinwoo’s protection lmao. because it’s insanely easy to go from hunter to victim in this field of work and don’t even get me started on that one case a police officer was abducted by a criminal and brutally tortured to death okay—

#solo leveling #woo jin chul #text is chaotic because I’m running a fever #but anyway yea he’s extremely fucking lucky to work as an investigator and have jinwoo watch after him #I honestly think he’ll be more prepared for physical torture than psychological #him being tolerant to beatings and other painful things #but psychological ones are insane his overthinking isn’t helping #ah what a best way to show love for your favorite character than yo torture them

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winvyre · 22 days

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[Valerie's Story] Chapter 1: Omie (2/6)

Graciela lets us in her shop, currently closed for festival preparations, and we set the baskets of hearthblooms on the table by the till. She smiles at us like usual but it doesn't read the same. Her eyes are tired, her long box braids definitely haven't been washed recently, and it seems she didn't bother with a corset. She always wears a corset. “You look rough.”

“Valerie!” Bernadette slaps the back of my head.

“Sorry. How are you?”

Graciela sighs deeply. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could bring you a mild sedative if you would like?” Bernadette offers.

“That’d be great, thank you.”

Bernadette leaves for our house. She’s the one who makes the potions Mom sells like pain relief or stomach settlers. Fran and Kell begin weaving the flowers together while Graciela helps me. I just can’t get my fingers to twist the next stem without the one I did before falling apart. Each failure fans the ember. I don’t want to do this anymore. “So is everything okay? I’ve never seen you so… disheveled.”

Graciela’s quiet for a moment and her hands stop moving. “Do you ever hear voices? People whispering right in your ear, even when there aren’t any people nearby?” she whispers.

What? “Are you hallucinating?”

“I think so. I-It’s funny because my mother used to say she heard people talking in silent rooms… she’d get pretty mad about it, too. Sometimes my brother and I would be playing quietly on the rug and she’d start yelling at the wall to shut up and leave her alone.” There’s a hint of morbid amusement in her tone. It drops quickly. “She was a good mother; attentive, kind, fun… she was just suffering, especially after Dad died. She never hurt us… No, she’d hurt herself. I’d notice the scars on her wrists when she’d roll up her sleeves to do the dishes.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“And I’m just remembering all of this now and it’s really scaring me. Am I going crazy? Am I going to be pushed to extremes just to relieve it?”

“You’re not crazy. What kinds of things do the voices tell you?”

“A lot of ‘let us out’s but sometimes they throw in an ‘open it.’”

I have realized that I am not equipped to have this conversation.

“I’ve been thinking… maybe it's the stress of caring for my brother? I'm sixteen, I should be in school studying and getting my heart broken by some sweetheart but instead I sell flower arrangements so we can both eat. Running helps but it only stops the buzzing for so long. I guess the voices themselves are really more annoying than anything else. I have trouble concentrating more and more these days. Some days I just want to sink to the bottom of the river or become a constellation. Yeah, becoming a constellation sounds nice.” A few seconds pass before Graciela suddenly turns away and starts fidgeting with her skirt, “I'm sorry! I shouldn't have blabbered on like that.”

“It's okay! Mom says it's good to talk about the things that bother us.”

Graciela brings the wreath she was working on too close to her face, “Let's just get back to work.”

-----

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

#writeblr #writer #writing #writers on tumblr #writer stuff #writerscommunity #creative writing #original story #original character #oc #ocs #my ocs #oc lore #writers and poets #writers #oc questions #chapter 1 #worldbuilding

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myfairstarlight · 6 months

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For Every Question Why - Chapter 5

AO3 Link. Previous / Next.

Rated: T Chapter length: 4k Chapter summary:

A demon gets a proposal of some sort and takes a few decades before coming around to it.

*all additional notes on ao3.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Unknown.

Truth be told, God has lost the plot a long time ago now. The Cherubim was only meant to get demoted to Principality after refusing to participate in the War, mind — almost — wiped clean to become the proper soldier She needed them to be. They were never meant to Fall, however. The Seraphim, on the other hand, was the one supposed to Fall… but Aziraphale crossed paths with Lucifer first and everything went away from Her plans as soon as the former Prince of Heaven’s eyes settled upon the mischievous and tactful cherub. She could not understand why, or how and She could not bloody grab the two offending angels in the middle of the War to right things up the way She originally intended.

Besides, She got curious. Terrible thing She is, curious. Free Will hadn’t been invented just yet, only a seed had started to grow within Lucifer, and only him, and yet, two other angels defied Her, albeit unconsciously. She wonders if what She had planned would still happen, just… a bit tweaked because of these two.

To Her greatest entertainment, the Ineffable Plan has become truly ineffable, out of Her reach, out in the wild. The end goal shall remain the same, She surmises, but the journey there? Oh! She is quite eager to witness it all, see when Her gentlest demon and Her brightest angel will finally properly meet under shades of grey.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Kingdom Of Wessex. 537 AD

Astrophel treads through the damp land, grumbling under his breath. He usually does not resort to extremes, but he truly, deeply hates this place and the fact Hell specifically told him he needed to be a knight for this assignment. The armours are such a pain to walk and move in! Especially when you can't see much.

(Well, the demon does wonder how humans even see with those helmets anyhow, not that it changes a lot for him. He wonders if he should take credit for this in his next report…)

He’d rather indulge in the comfortable dresses the women are currently wearing, all loose tunics and intricate embroidery that feels heavenly under his fingertips but no! He has to foment dissent in damp lands! What a waste of—

“Behold, Dark Knight! For I am Sir Janiel of the Round Table seeking an audience with thee!”

Astrophel groans. “Janiel, dear, really?”

A muffled giggle answers him before he hears the distinct sound of a helmet’s visor getting lifted. When the angel speaks again, it is clearer, “Oh, cheer up starlight.”

“There is hardly anything to be cheery about.”

“I’m personally having fun! Did not know swordfighting was so entertaining!” the angel gushes, in childlike wonder, promptly followed by the sound of his blade slashing through the air.

Astrophel smiles wryly. He supposes it can be entertaining when the battle they fight in has nothing to do with them and the swords cannot permanently kill them. He doesn’t recall what Janiel did during the War, but he reckons, as a Seraphim with a status almost rivalling Archangels, he must have been away from the battlefield most of the time.

“I can hear that,” he says. “So you’re the positive influence I’m supposed to crush.”

“And you’re the evil I’m supposed to thwart, maybe I should have guessed.”

“Perhaps we should have.”

Since there does not seem to be anyone else in their vicinity, Astrophel snaps his fingers, getting rid of the heavy armour around him so he can freely stretch. He hears Janiel take a sharp intake of breath before the angel speaks up again:

“So we're just cancelling each other out, all our efforts for nothing.”

“At least you sounded like you're having fun, I am not,” Astrophel huffs. “Although it has been entertaining to defeat some of King Arthur’s arrogant knights who thought they’d easily get to me because of my blindness.”

“So Sir Leon and Percival’s injuries were your doing.”

Astrophel grins innocently. “I can neither confirm nor deny, they never introduced themselves, just were so convinced they could take down the Dark Knight, the poor dears. I suppose I’ve been doing terrific work around here, after all, not that this is my usual method.”

The demon feels the worry and guilt increase around Janiel’s aura at his words.

“Oh, dear, do not feel bad, I made sure I didn’t induce life-altering injuries.” He may even have healed them, just a bit, he then proceeded to purposely hurt himself so he could heal it back so Hell does not question the miracle. “Nothing your angelic presence cannot soothe.”

“This is the first time our Assignments overlap, don't they?” Janiel points out.

“Well—” Astrophel was ready to argue except he couldn't. Janiel is right, they might have circled each other since the beginning of time, but they never had missions that required them to directly face each other. A part of him wonders how this has not happened sooner, however.

“What if…” The angel’s voice is much closer now, a hand nudging Astrophel’s arm. “What if… we do nothing and report to our sides these assignments as a draw?”

“... Are you suggesting we lie?”

“You say that like it’d be the first time? It wouldn’t necessarily be lying anyway, it’s the truth, we just cancel each other out so what’s the point? See it like a mutual arrangement. It’s not like they’re checking anyway and it means less paperwork for us too.”

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“Unreasonable!” Janiel repeats with offence. “How is that different from you asking me to take credit for something you did?”

Astrophel falters. The angel has a point, somewhat. Not completely, though.

“It’s… risky.”

“Any riskier than what we’ve already done?”

“Yes! You’re suggesting we willingly collaborate!”

“Which, again, we’ve already done before.”

“No, before either Heaven and Hell were collaborating or our assignments just happened to be in the same area but did not oppose each other so we’d end up accidentally helping each other. We’ve never been put against each other, they’re obviously expecting something.”

“Accidentally!?” Janiel huffs, apparently deciding to focus on that part of the argument. “Oh, that’s brilliant! When it benefits you it’s all good but I suggest it and suddenly it’s too dangerous!”

“Because what you suggest puts you in danger!” Astrophel argues. “I asked you to take credit for me saving lives I shouldn’t have, that’s of no consequence to you but if they ever hear you’re willingly letting a demon get away with things—”

“That’s assuming they’d ever find out, they never did about the Bet, you know,” Janiel interrupts and the demon wants to scream at his carelessness. “They don’t check, they don’t care, they won’t know if I don’t want them to. You're overthinking this.”

Astrophel sighs. Still so confident, so arrogant, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little endeared by Janiel’s stubbornness and faith that everything would turn out alright. It makes him wonder once more, are there truly no consequences for a Seraphim disobeying orders or is Janiel just an expert at getting away? Astrophel got promoted and yet, in exchange with grander power, it feels like Beelzebub and Satan are a more prominent presence breathing down his neck now.

“If you can’t see how truly dangerous what you are proposing is, then I shall keep saying no until you see sense,” Astrophel answers eventually and almost chokes on Janiel’s disappointment and frustration.

“You’re really annoying sometimes.”

“Thank you.” The demon even bows. “Now if you don’t mind, dear, the Dark Knight is expected someplace else. This conversation never happened!”

“Right,” Janiel grunts.

“Right!”

Astrophel hurries away before he feels compelled to stay back because he’s well aware Janiel never easily takes no for an answer just as Astrophel always struggles to not say yes.

But this is too important. They grew too reckless, too comfortable. Heaven and Hell are finally pitting them against each other and Hell is somehow aware of his… closeness to Janiel in some way. Perhaps it’s because he was made a soldier, but Astrophel can’t understand why Janiel cannot see this blatant warning test for what it is.

So if keeping a safe distance, for now, is needed to be sure the angel doesn’t get into trouble and until Janiel gets over that stupid idea of an arrangement the way he did about changing his name, then so be it.

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Constantinople. 547 AD.

While Astrophel is on friendly terms with Death Incarnate, he cannot say the same for Pestilence, which is perhaps peculiar considering how the two are so intricately linked. The demon just has never had to supervise plagues since they were led by Heaven before compared to Death following him almost wherever he goes. The Plagues of Egypt were another rare instance in which Heaven and Hell put their differences at rest to collaborate but Astrophel (or Janiel, for that matter) were not assigned to that particular event, no, Lord Beelzebub had the utmost honour of taking care of that particular request and they were pretty proud of it as well. Pestilence truly rose roughly around the same time, originally a Heaven creation, now a Hellspawn, and their power amplified for the assignment.

So here he now stands, in Constantinople when he should still be in Wessex — following King Arthur’s death, chaos spread across the land as Anglo-Saxons, helped by the demon’s influence, tried to take over now that the leader of the biggest line of defence is gone, and that is without mentioning the rise of witches hidden across the kingdoms, slowly but surely making their mark, to Hell’s delight, but for now Astrophel had to leave all this and trust his knights — and Janiel — to handle the situation for this new assignment was a direct request from Mara.

It should only be a few days, she said, then he can go back to causing trouble in Britannia. He’s not sure why she even needs some help, demons don’t ask for help, demons have too much pride for that, and yet. But oh well, it allows him a change of scenery, away from stuffy armours he traded for ample tunics to survive under the harsh sun of Constantinople. And he has more questions for the other demon anyway.

It turns out, she has some of her own.

“Playing babysitter to Pestilence is a bore,” she says as both demons hover over the city, letting Pestilence do their work. “I get they’re still sorta young so we need to keep a close eye on them but really, they know what they’re doing, they don’t need supervision.”

“Mm. So why request my presence? Pestilence sure does not need two demons over their shoulder. Hopefully, they did not see me or they’d probably take offence and throw a tantrum.”

Mara lets out a long breath. Annoyance pulses darkly around her. “Turns out Heaven finally caught up and is sending more than one angel on Earth like us. One keeps popping up where I’m assigned and she’s a bitch.”

Ever since the Jesus debacle, Hell decided to send other demons to Earth. They would not be permanent agents the way Astrophel is, Mara, for example, is still primarily in the Torture Department but is sent out to the surface for assignments specifically regarding human suffering and once the work is done, she must go back to Hell until the next available mission. Astrophel would serve as a supervisor if needed although very few demons have asked for his help or expertise. Again, demons are prideful things.

He did tell Janiel about that new development somewhere in between Caligula and Pompeii, most probably while very drunk as well.

“Only took them a few centuries to realise,” Astrophel muses, he wonders briefly how he’s never encountered any of them before, though. Judging by Mara's tone, this has been going on for at least a few decades. “If you’re asking for Hellfire—”

“Hah, I wish, can’t start a war too early though, would spoil the fun,” the other demon says, disappointed. “No, I was wondering how you did it— fool an angel into trusting you.”

“Huh?”

“That Seraphim, remember? Lord Beelzebub had requested I survey him. I was so impressed by how tightly you control him to the point he purposely messes up assignments so you have less work to do! And he genuinely thinks he can make you an angel again. I��d laugh at his naivety if I wasn’t baffled you managed that. So what’s the secret?”

Never before has Astrophel wished this hard that he could stop time to his whim like a certain angel so that he can gather his thoughts and be prepared because he has trouble grasping what Mara just dumped on him as if it was nothing. Is that how Hell sees his… acquaintance with Janiel? As if Astrophel is the one leading the march? Is that why he got a promotion? That can't be right, over the years he's specifically followed Janiel's lead, as an excuse to… as an excuse to still do good and, well, because he still worried over the angel whose free spirit should have landed him in hot waters — or rather, fires of a Hellish kind — and yet.

He cools his face into an annoyed expression as he huffs. “You do not want to know, dear, or you end up with a clingy angel who keeps babbling about righteous deeds in your ear.”

The disgust growing inside Mara is so blatant that it takes everything in Astrophel to not grimace at the stench of it.

“Yeah, maybe I’m better off just annoying her until she runs back to Heaven. Well, I called you here for nothing.”

Astrophel hums. Quite the contrary, this has been a productive discussion, just not the one he expected to have.

So. He is aware he probably should not take a fellow demon’s word as the gospel of truth but everything does line up with what he knows — Mara was tasked to spy on Janiel, reported to Beelzebub, Beelzebub told the findings to Satan, shortly after, the whole Jesus thing happened and despite playing right into Heaven’s plan, Astrophel still managed to tempt Judas despite Janiel always hovering near, confirming their suspicion and subsequently promoted Astrophel, believing it the best course of action in this battle against Heaven. After all, if the adversary already lets their guard down, why not take extra precautions on your side and take advantage? It is a basic tactic.

Of course, Hell has no way of knowing Astrophel embellished a lot of his reports, but the conclusions drawn from the facts as presented line up perfectly. But if Hell noticed… It is only a matter of time until Heaven does too. And he doesn’t think Janiel is aware of that if Mara’s observations are to be believed. Seriously, purposely messing up assignments to not inconvenience him? Did the angel think him incapable? Have their assignments overlapped before and Janiel consciously sabotaged himself, Astrophel just was not aware of it until today?

What is that angel thinking?

Astrophel holds in a sigh, he can already hear his angel’s voice in his head squealing with triumph as he makes a decision. It would make it easier to keep an eye on the angel and would reduce the paperwork on both sides. Janiel has always known how to get what he wants from him anyway.

“Janiel is my problem, by the way. Be sure to tell the others if they ever see him not to engage with him and report back to me immediately using my crow. Less paperwork for everyone.”

“Your crow,” Mara repeats. “I thought your animal was an owl?”

“Claimed another bird with the promotion,” he explains. “You got a billion moths.”

“Mm. Fair.” Jealousy and admiration lace her words. “Don’t you worry though, no other demon ever gets close to that loud angel. He smites any demon on sight, except you. You’re his special project.”

“Well, I must make him mine as well, then.”

⋆ ✩₊˚ ʚ♡ɞ ˚₊✩⋆

Kingdom of Mercia. 584 AD.

Astrophel is enjoying the banquet in honour of King Creoda when she feels the familiar essence of a certain angel slivering to her side, a slender hand finding its place on her waist.

“Lady Aster,” the soft feminine voice purrs in her ear as she feels curls tickling the side of her face. It seems Janiel is already a little tipsy. “Pretty name, starlight.”

“Astrophel can be a mouthful,” she answers, handing over a cup of wine, out of habit. “Fancy meeting you here, Lady Jane.”

She can hear the smile on the other’s face as the angel grabs the offered cup then links their arms together and says, “Mine is less creative I admit. King Creoda mispronounced Janiel and I went along with it.”

“It is better than Bildad, I’ll give you that. Where did that even come from? I never asked.”

Janiel giggles. She giggles. Oh, she truly is drunk. “I may have stolen the identity of one of Job’s friends. He had just left the land at the time. At least here it’s just me, myself and I.”

Astrophel hums and takes a moment to appreciate the proximity, perhaps not very subtly tilting her head so she can get a better whiff of the angel’s sulphur-free scent. It is amusing how much more carefree with affection they both are when they decide to embody a woman’s trait, she’s not sure what to take from it. It is less amusing to realise they also are ignoring their last argument.

Like they are wont to do.

“Mm. New assignment, then?” she asks.

The angel takes a long sip. “Yup,” she confirms, popping that last letter. “Same thing that I did with Arthur, just decided another approach. The battles have calmed down so I figured my blessings would be better used at the castle this time. What about you?”

It sounds almost casual, but there is an edge to her voice, apprehension, and worry.

“I’m off duty, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” Astrophel replies, and Janiel drinks her wine wrong because she splutters and starts coughing. “Are you alright dear?”

The coughing continues for a couple of moments, forcing Astrophel to untangle their arms so she can avoid her wine being spilt.

“Tiptop,” comes the strangled answer when Janiel manages to find a moment of respite. “You want to talk?”

Her tone has turned suspicious, cautious, she probably caught on fast about what the demon wants to talk about. Astrophel also suspects she miracled herself sober.

“Stop time for me once again darling, would you?”

Almost immediately, the chatter all around them ceases, allowing Astrophel to concentrate on Janiel’s shallow breathing.

“I meant to ask, don’t you have to report to Heaven whenever you do that?”

“You're asking now?” Janiel almost laughs. “But no, I don't have to. It isn't exactly a miracle, so it isn't included in those. Call it a Seraphim perk. Anyway, you were saying?”

“About that Arrangement—” She marks a pause at Janiel’s subtle intake of breath, a hopeful thing. “I changed my mind.”

“Really? … What changed?”

I learned you’re being a reckless idiot alone so I might as well join you so if they ever find out they can blame me for being a bad influence, not you. “I reconsidered… You’re right, the extra effort and paperwork feels pointless.” She leans against the table, putting down her cup. “But that means from now on, we tell each other everything.”

“Sure,” Janiel agrees easily, perhaps too easily, even.

Astrophel frowns. “... Just like that?”

“I mean, I was already doing that.”

“You really should worry a bit more about the implications here.”

“Eh, you worry enough for the both of us.” Astrophel could strangle her for that. It is probably meant as a joke but it rings a bit too close to the truth. “If this is about you being a spy during the War, I know, by the way.”

The demon had suspected. “You truly have that much faith that I won't take advantage of this Arrangement to benefit my side?”

“Of course, I trust you.”

That uncomfortable and warm feeling deep within her soul makes an appearance again and Astrophel squirms, crossing her arms below her breasts with a shuddering breath.

“Just like you trust me to not report to Heaven,” the angel continues, her slender hand landing on the demon’s shoulder. Astrophel shivers as the coldness of her rings grazes her skin. “This isn’t about either of our sides, it’s about you, and I, and enjoying our time here on Earth.”

“For as long as it stands,” Astrophel reminds her, despite herself. Their time is limited, before the next War, after all.

Janiel does not say anything in response. Instead, she snaps her fingers and life resumes its course around them. Astrophel straightens up, taking it as her cue that the conversation is over but Janiel’s hand remains on her shoulder, keeping her in place.

“So, what now, starlight?” Before Astrophel can reply with her usual words, Janiel continues, “You’re not going to leave after this agreement, are you?”

“Jani— Jane!”

Her protest falls on deaf ears as Janiel drags her away from the banquet table, away from the crowd. Astrophel finds herself in a garden instead, wherein the angel gently guides her near a pond.

As they sit on the grass, Janiel suddenly decides to lay on her lap, her face chasing the demon's hands until the latter takes the hint and starts carefully braiding her curls. The angel's hair feels, well, heavenly between her damned fingers, silky to the touch with the warmth of Her Grace.

Astrophel smiles despite herself. This is the closest to Heaven she could ever be again, and somehow, she's content with that. Keeping Janiel close and safe is all she needs.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fic #reverse omens au #aziracrow #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #my fics

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