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sunlightmurdock · 2 months

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hands to yourself | dilf bradley bradshaw x nanny!reader (18+)

surprised with an afternoon to himself, bradley takes advantage of the alone-time, thinking about the woman he can’t have.

warnings: shameless pwp, bradley is down bad for his nanny and hasn’t touched himself — or anyone — in a long ass time. masturbation, pining, swearing, fantasising about oral and such. voyeurism, kinda, he gets walked in on. I may write a part two for this but idk yet. I just needed to write a lil smth about him touching himself. Wc: 3k

this is the lingerie set I was thinking of but imagine whatever ya like x

…

Bradley drops his keys into the bowl by the door, they land with a stark rattle. The faint tan-line between his brows disappears into the crease that caused it as he frowns. He looks towards the stairs, and then wanders in the living room. His boots tap softly against the floor.

“Kids?” He calls out into the unfamiliar quiet.

Nothing. His eyes widen in slight panic, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he looks around him. The floor is spotless — their toys are stored neatly in their bins, there aren’t any new stains on his rug, and there aren’t any cartoons on his television.

The sound of his boots on the ground are unnerving; he can’t bring himself to admit that he misses the sounds of chaos he usually returns to. He wanders through the house, making a beeline for the backyard. Sunny day like this, he figures that’s where he’ll find them.

Nothing. The yard is completely empty beside the laundry hanging out to dry. His mouth feels dry.

Once the mid-day mind fog dissipates, Bradley’s panic starts to, too. That birthday party. You’d mentioned it twice this week already, and once this morning. He’s just forgetful at the minute — — you know how crazy work has been for him.

He pauses, standing in his unusually clean living room, and purses his lips. His hands come to rest on his hips while he looks around him. He isn’t used to this.

Usually, within seconds of him walking through the door, he’s got a kid attached to his leg or a fight to break up or a permission slip to sign.

There’s nothing that he needs to do.

Nothing urgent.

Nobody else home.

Lifting his wrist, he takes a quick glance down at his watch and considers what to do with his sudden freedom. Birthday parties take a couple of hours, right?

He takes one final look around him, his eyes catching on the laundry drying outside. Clipped to the line is a power-blue balconette bra. He’s seen it before. The day he accidentally walked in on you.

Since you moved in four months ago, Bradley has been especially careful about knocking first. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s a gentleman. Really, it’s just because it made it hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself the first time.

There had been a heatwave that week. You had the afternoon off but Bradley hadn’t been able to find the sunscreen, and his kids are damn near impossible to keep out of the sunlight. With them arguing downstairs and trying to figure out the lock to let themselves out, he just wasn’t thinking and he hadn’t knocked.

“Hey, do you know where you put the—“ He’d stopped, frozen, taking in the sight of you sprawled across your bed. His bed. The bed he gave to you when you got the job of living here. A red popsicle between your lips and a book propped open in front of you, wearing nothing but a powder-blue set.

“Oh—“ Your eyes had gone all wide and surprised, too shocked to move, just like him.

The only thing that reminded him that he even had the option to move was the sound of his son running up the stairs to hurry this process along. He had slammed the door shut, blushing furiously, and turned to face his eldest.

“Found it, dad! It was in my backpack.” Grinning, he had held up the bottle of sunscreen and Bradley had just been forced to continue with his afternoon like he hadn’t seen anything at all.

When he finally peels his eyes away from the line of drying clothes outside, his gaze lands on the basket of dried and folded laundry sitting on his kitchen counter ready to be put away. Sitting right on top, is a glossy looking pair of blue panties that match the bra on the line.

Bradley’s already been kicking himself for his behavior since you got here. It’s downright shameful, the things he lets himself think about you. You’re half his age, first off. Second -- he’s your boss. You live in his house. His kids think you’re their best friend.

They think you’re just here because you love hanging out with them so much, not because their mommy and daddy couldn’t get along for the life of them and daddy works too much.

His mouth waters. Staring at some blue lace in a laundry hamper and his mouth’s practically watering. He’s pathetic. His guy friends keep telling him he needs to get back in the game, start moving on — he hadn’t been so sure. But then, he’s never almost popped a hard-on over a thong in a pile before.

He can picture you so perfectly in them. Your round ass barely covered by the material, legs kicked up behind you and your ankles crossed. When he closes his eyes, he can picture you facing the other way. Your face toward the headboard, your ass right in front of him.

His slacks grow tighter as his neglected cock stirs to life. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Maybe sometime before his middle kid got the flu? — Around a month ago, maybe. His nights since then had been primarily spent clearing up puke.

The sad part is, the thought only tends to occur to him when he’s at work. Home is always far too hectic. For a while now, he’s been stuck working late into the night with a boner while he’s flicking through candidate paperwork and flight logs.

Well, he’s thinking about it now, and he’s got the place all to himself. No locking himself in the bathroom and letting the shower run, trying to think of anything but the growing list of chores he has to do to keep this house functioning.

He swallows thickly.

He’ll tell the guys that they’re right. He needs to get back into the game; get his head on right, stop pining over his nanny. Tomorrow. For now, he lifts his hand and takes the underwear, smoothing the sheer mesh between his index and thumb. Closing his eyes, he hopes that you won’t notice they’re gone before he can return them.

He twists the cap off of an ice cold beer, leaves his boots neatly by the door and walks calmly upstairs. From there, he clicks his bedroom door shut and steadily takes himself out of his uniform, dropping it into his laundry hamper.

Finally, he settles down against his headboard with his phone in his hand and your panties in his lap.

Porn will make this better. It’s less weird if he’s not necessarily picturing your face. It’s not — but he might have a better chance at looking you in the eye later if he tells himself that.

Not that any of this feels exactly regular.

He inhales and shifts, and scrolls. Birds are still tweeting outside, singing early afternoon songs. His teeth nip at the inside of his cheek as he scrolls aimlessly until he finds a thumbnail that looks halfway doable.

All alone, the house feels especially quiet when the first moan spills from the speakers. He flinches at the sound and scrambles for the volume button, then hesitates. He doesn’t have to be quiet. He doesn’t even have to be ashamed. Shit, it’s a little late for that.

His brows knit together a bit, cocking his head as he examines the babbling girl on the phone screen. His hand stirs to life from where it had gone limp on his thigh, finding his cock through the grey fabric of his boxers. With one last cautious glance to his closed bedroom door, the silence beyond it confirms to him that he’s okay.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he strokes himself over the material. The video isn’t particularly interesting, not when Bradley’s head can fill itself with far more interesting material at whim. His mind starts to wander back to that dream he’d had of you in the nurses outfit— that one had hit him hard, literally. He could barely look in your direction without getting hard for two days.

Soon enough, he’s hard and straining against the briefs. But that’s thinking about you, and that’s not allowed. He shifts restlessly and goes back to scrolling, palming himself absently. Finally, he comes across a video that sparks something. The thumbnail is of a girl with swollen lips and a cock in her mouth. It’ll do.

There we go. He huffs, that red-hot desperate feeling spreading down his neck and covering his shoulders. Making like it’s going to swallow him whole. Bradley lifts his hips to shuck down his boxers, tucking the waistband under his balls, still prepared for a hasty recovery at the sound of the garage door opening or something. He glances down at himself, remembering the days his thighs were narrower and more taut and he wasn’t noticing grey in his pubes.

If he wanted this done quick and fast, he’d spit hard into the centre of his palm and get to work. It’s been a long time since it hasn’t had to be quick. He thinks he has— he turns a bit and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging blindly at the back until he comes up with what he’s looking for — lube. It’s practically full, not like he has been using it much.

A drop in the middle of his hand is enough, he figures. Turning his attention back to this new video, he settles, cupping the weight of his shaft in the palm of his hand. He gives it one slow pump, following the length, coating himself a bit. Real slow, his eyes study the screen, working the lubricant against his skin.

The actress bobs her mouth around the on-screen cock enthusiastically, moaning around him, raking her fingertips along his thighs. He locks his fist around himself, warm and tight, wet. It’s not a mouth but it’s the closest he has felt in a long time. If he closes his eyes, it could be your mouth.

You’d take him slowly, at first, ease him into it with that taunting nature you’ve let him glimpse at. He wouldn’t close his eyes; wouldn’t take ‘em off you. His hand steadies into a lazy rhythm, picturing the way you’d look up at him through your lashes.

The way you’d suck, and flick your tongue across his swollen tip. He shivers as he swipes his thumb through the precum beading there, stroking it all the way back down, stuck on imagining what it would feel like with your saliva joining the mix.

A pleased, feminine hum of approval comes from his phone and Bradley’s body responds just as eagerly, his hips twitching into the thrust of his palm. Sweat beads at his forehead as he slows to the point of almost stopping, dragging this out — making a point of exploiting his time alone.

He blinks hazily and finds a glimpse of blue, remembering suddenly the souvenir he had taken. The pitiful scrap of fabric he’s so wound up over sits against his thigh, looking suddenly small in comparison to his cock. He lets himself go and grabs hold of the fabric firmly, balling it tightly in his fist.

The soft lace bristles at his palm. Freshly laundered, they don’t smell of anything but detergent. It plays to the weaker side of him, gnawing at him, leaving him desperate to have something beyond what’s in his head. To know your smell, your tastes, your sounds. He shudders as he wraps a hand snugly around himself once more, this time, with an added layer of lace and soft mesh.

His head falls backwards, mouth hanging. Like this, it’s even easier to pretend. The image of you straddling his thighs, rocking your pussy against him while wearing nothing but these has him finally relaxed. Zen, even. A groan dies in his through, coming out more as a deep and baited sigh. He lift his hips, fucking into his fabric tangled fist.

Sometime between picking up your panties and now, the video has moved on without him, the blowjob forgotten. If he was to open his eyes, he would find that she’s on her back, being fucked into a mattress. He doesn’t need to. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he steadies up to the rhythm of her moans, skin hitting skin.

You’ve been living here four months now and you haven’t stayed out once. He wonders if you’re as wound up as he is. If you’ve thought about him the way he thinks of you. How downright desperate you’d sound moaning against his pillows while he finally gets to feel you. His left hand jumps, grabbing a firm fistful of the sheets beside him.

The shame he feels has been checked at the door, he lets himself think that you might have looked at him, that you might want him. He chases the feeling, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Pumping the blue mesh around his cock, imagining you rocking yourself on him. Something gentler, more spry. It feels good. You’d feel good.

His imagination is better than he gave himself credit for.

His wrist twitches and he slows, feeling his thighs tighten as his heels press into his mattress for leverage. He chokes out a sound that he won’t admit is closer to a whimper than anything else, panting hard as he lets the rush ebb a bit. Pursing his lips, he draws out a slow exhale.

His mouth hangs open, eyes dipping to watch himself loosen up with the material, finding himself with just his bare palm once again. He takes the blue fabric in his left, opening it up and examining the dampened marks of his precum and the lube.

Just like that, he’s back in the guest room — your room — and you’re wearing that blue set. It’s dampened like this, but not because he has made a mess of it, not yet. Because you have. You’re soaking through it, looking up at him with that awe-struck look on your face. Your mouth open wide but this time there’s no red popsicle.

“Fuck.”

“Shit.” You whisper, catching the diaper bag that had almost fallen from your shoulder as you cradle the sleeping infant against your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you click open the front door and toe off your shoes.

She’s dead-weight in your arms, probably drooling on your shoulder. Her two older siblings will be causing all kinds of mischief and consuming sugar in all of its forms at their cousin’s birthday party for the next three hours. Given that the party lines up almost exactly with the fifteen-month-old’s nap routine, you figured you would take her home to rest so that you could get around to putting away that laundry you had started.

You’ve got a thousand things on your mind. A million things to do before Bradley gets home that evening. Truthfully, you’re a thousand miles away as you stroll upstairs and walk to the far end of the hall to the nursery. You lay her down and adjust the baby monitor, setting up her white noise machine routinely.

Her bedroom door clicks shut behind you and you take a moment to consider your priorities. Laundry takes precedence, even though you want so desperately to crawl into bed and sleep for an hour. You huff, groaning to yourself as you walk back downstairs to find the basket you had abandoned.

As you round the stairs and walk through the hallway, a choked sound spills from under the wood of Bradley’s door, something deep and breathless. Already halfway to the kitchen, you don’t hear a thing.

The video stopped a while ago but Bradley had stopped watching it even earlier. His head is thrown back and his lips are parted, his features creased in concentration as he chases his high. He thrusts into his fist, white-knuckling your panties with his free hand, his heart thundering in his chest. “God, fuck.”

He doesn’t have a clue that he isn’t alone anymore. He didn’t hear the minivan, he didn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear you rush back up the stairs with the hamper hiked against your hip.

He walked in on you. He stopped, and he stared. You were interrupted, so you can’t blame him for slamming the door shut. He’d missed, or ignored the signals since. The looks, the touches, staying up with him until your eyelids are so heavy that they’re barely open because he’s kind of an insomniac. Nothing. You’ve been beyond curious, desperate to know if he has been blowing you off on purpose or if he’s just clueless.

Clueless yourself, armed to put away freshly folded t-shirts, you grab the door handle and push it open. He works late, always. He’s rarely home before bedtime on work days. He told you this morning that he’d try not to wake you when he came in. And yet — there he is.

You get a glimpse of him before he registers the click of the door, before he spots you. Brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, his curls dampened and hugging his forehead. Sunlight catches on the beads of sweat as they trail his glistening middle, spilling across his strong, softened middle. Broad shoulders flexed, the veins in his right arm straining through the skin, fucking his palm.

He reacts quickly, but there’s little that can be done. His eyes spring open and his hand releases himself, his body flushing a deeper shade of red at once. Thighs spread, he doesn’t have much time to cover himself before the door whips shut again.

You press your back to the door, staring at the ceiling. On either sides of it, you each have a moment of silent consideration.

“… are you okay?” He asks weakly.

He gets a soft squeak of acknowledgement as an answer and starts to wonder how you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. God, he hopes you don’t quit. The kids love you, and you’re incredible, you make his life liveable. His mind races, trying to come up with some kind of way to fix what you just saw. Everyone masturbates, it’s normal, it’s healthy—

“Was— Was that my underwear?”

Shit, Bradley thinks, he’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. You’re going to tell every nanny in the state that he’s a creep and work is going to eat him alive while he tries to juggle three kids alone. He curses breathlessly, fixing his underwear to cover himself and pushing himself out of bed.

He’s stuck for a second, considering if it would be better to give you time or to go after you. His eyes widen as the door clicks again, and pushes slowly open.

Your eyes rake over him, standing tall at the foot of his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Still, regrettably, balled into his left hand, is your underwear. Powder-blue. He follows your gaze and looks down at the fabric, cursing his own stupidity, wondering if it’s too late to drop them.

You wet your lips with your tongue as your gaze flickers across. He closes his eyes and wills it to go away — he had just been so close, so caught up in it. It’s still rock hard, straining against the grey fabric, dampened at the tip with a spot of precum.

All of those signals and efforts come to a head. After four months of pining, you can’t just wander downstairs like this never happened. Laundry can wait. “You want a hand?”

…

tags: @royal-sunflower @redbarn1995 @atarmychick007 @jessicab1991 @seitmai @bellaireland1981 @roosterbruiser @tenderly-hopeful-collection @bradshawsbaddie @tgmavericklover @cevansbaby-dove @lyn-js @mynameismckenziemae @perpetuelledaydreaming @diorrfairy @sparklehippie17 @heatherbabees @prettiewittie @forgiveliv @oleksiak-pettersson @illegalxhood @fantasticpeacestarfish @rockstxr-x @d0main-expansion @diorsmores @mydarlingrose @sticksticklettuxe @alrightyyaphrodite @bowchickawowowww @aquafairy777 @eternallyvenus @maxwell-era @devil-angel-winchester @roosterishot @rosiahills22 @literally-iconic @brinaaa10 @foggyturtleknightangel @a-serene-place-to-be @aragorn-02 @sunflowercharlie13

If your name is here but isn’t tagged, it may be your settings that won’t allow me to tag you fully!

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #dilf Bradley #bradley x the nanny #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster Bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #top gun: maverick smut

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shanaraki · 1 year

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I love how we're seeing the different emo bands takes on nostalgia.

Brendon Urie is out there ruining himself 'cause he wants to keep the concept of Panic! At the Disco alive like some violently murdered corpse whose limbs and hair are clipped to the body, now more a memory than a solid thing.

MCR is making fun of just of that, of the way the industry is selling a distorted version of the events of their past. They are mocking the way people expects them to stay frozen on a time when they were miserable, just because that's profitable for the music industry, just because their suffering is entertaining. But MCR won't do that, they won't back down after all they've gone through, after all they have won (because they fought hard for it!), after all the improvement. They have the right to live now, create new things.

Paramore reminded everyone of how that past? The one they so badly want back? That past was full of racism and misogyny and homophobia !!!!!Bands like MCR and FOB and Paramore were not enough because they were too queer or too black or too femenine. They are "heroes of the scene" NOW not because the scene has always loved or embraced them, but because they all refused to disappear, to give up, to give in. The real triumph is for them to enjoy, because now the scene is crying and begging for them to be back (but not them just the image of them) and they can say "fuck you, this is for my bandmates and the fans!".

And now FOB is back, with Pete Wentz spitting poetry about how nostalgia can be such a strong feeling, but there's more than just it. You cannot stay for the memories to consume you, not when there is so much to see, so much to do, so many details happening right here and now for you to enjoy. You need to acknowledge your past with all it carries and you need to move forward. You can't stop, because nostalgia can and will try to kill you, but why would you let it? Why are we supposed to live from the past? FOB have been called sellouts their whole time they've been here, so why would they listen now to the noise? It's just them, their fans and the people they love on this journey.

I love MCR I love FOB I love Paramore because they won't be used to manipulate the audience into believing the past was better. It was not. Now is better, the future they've made, the future they fought for. Now is theirs and ours. They win now.

#Mcr #My chemical romance #Paramore #Fob #Fall out boy #Fob8

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macfrog · 6 months

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wish you were here | one shot

thank you lovely anon for this gorgeous request which felt like a huge mug of hot chocolate and a pair of socks fresh from the dryer to write. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel skip jackson’s annual holiday party in favor of some alone time. (not that kind you filthy animals it’s the HOLIDAYS)

warnings: fluff lmao, thirty-year age gap and u can stay mad, set around the holidays but no mention of christmas etc, nothing but love and two hints of sex. that's all. oh and no guitars were harmed in the making of this - joel canonically goes and gets the guitar after the fic ends. dw.

word count: 1.9k

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Jackson is alive with a thrumming heartbeat. Pulsing through the air, bumping gently against the quick-lying snow and filling the otherwise silent night. A steady, rhythmic heartbeat.

A heartbeat which sounds a lot like Blue Monday, but a heartbeat nonetheless.

The holiday party is in full swing down in the Tipsy Bison. Seven o’clock ‘til late! on flyers plastered all over the commune for the last month. Tommy had tried relentlessly to convince Joel this morning on patrol – It’ll be a good night; You oughta come along, show face at least. At the same time, Maria was on your back about it in the stables.

Y’all hardly come to anything fun, she’d argued.

We come to stuff.

When’s the last time you came to anythin’?

We were – we were at Mike’s birthday dinner.

What – five months ago?

We like alone time.

Alone time? You’re never apart from one another.

Alone time – together.

Neither attempt had been successful. Tommy and Maria had exchanged a disheartened glance as the two brothers passed their horses to you on their return. Joel clipped your cheek, took his gloves off and fixed them onto your frozen hands before making off for home, a proud grin on his face. You’d held your own as well as he had: you two had a clear evening ahead.

He had lit and nurtured a fire, had made himself a coffee and heaped half a damn bag of tiny marshmallows into a hot chocolate for you, but when he’d come through to take his place on the couch, you were already stood out front.

It’s bitter out – a soft breeze, but a thick chill on its wings. The sky a washed gray, heavy clouds overhead. He slips outside, setting the mugs down on the table, and slings a blanket over your shoulders. Kisses the curve of your neck, scruff of his beard tickling your skin.

‘s freezing, pretty bird.

Then keep me warm, you whisper, turning into his arms. He steps back, settling into his chair, flicking his fingers for you to fall down into his wide lap.

You curl up against his torso, your head hooked beneath his jaw. Wonder how drunk Tommy is by now. What is it – nine?

His wrist lifts, moonlight gleaming in the reflection of his broken watch face. Just gone ten. I bet he’s on his ass already.

You giggle into his shirt, breathing in the scent of the pine trees, the smoke from stoking the fire inside, the bite of hot coffee. The echo of voices swelling in merry song turns your attention down the street – two figures hooked onto one another, stumbling through the powdered snow. Some slurred rendition of September melting into All Night Long before the smaller of the two tugs their partner off into a darkened house.

Joel laughs to himself, the bristle of his beard catching on your hair as he shakes his head.

You ask him softly, Will you play me something?

His breath soars, a cloud hot and pale white, past your temple and up into the pastel sky. Gets swallowed somewhere overhead by the wash of warmth from the porch light. He turns his mug until the owl faces the street, the bottom gnawing against the wooden armrest of his chair.

I’m serious.

What do you wanna hear?

That one you’re always practicin’. The plucking one.

Another rumble between your shoulder blades. His chest jolts with a solid laugh. The pluckin’ one.

You know the one.

I know the one.

Will you play it, if I go get the guitar?

Baby, his lungs nudge on your back as they fill, it’s late. We’ll wake the neighbors.

Everyone’s at the dance. C’mon.

And he can’t argue with that. The entire street lies dark, vacant. Yours is the only house with soft-glowing eyes, the muted orange of the fire flickering behind closed blinds. Two figures, tangled in a chair on the dim front porch; a hunting jacket around his shoulders, and his body around yours.

You tug on the blanket, wrapping it around your elbows as you stand. Just once. Play me it once.

Joel’s looking up at you, setting his mug down on the table. Play you it as many times as you want, pretty bird. Just – quietly.

There’s a spring in your step that drags another chuckle from Joel’s lips: the kind that drips like honey down your throat and warms the pit of your stomach – a sweet, comforting thing, a sound you swear was made purposefully for you. Divine and deliberate.

Like – all of him. Like the shape of your name in his mouth, the curl of his tongue as the sound surfs over it. Like the curve of his hand and the way yours so neatly molds into it.

The way it did the day he found you, crouched in the gray backroom of some butchers deep in the city, and took you all the way back to Jackson. Let you cling to him on the back of his horse; your weak arms around his waist, anchored by the heavy jacket he’d thrown over your back. Your ear between his shoulder blades. And that was that.

Fifty-six. One brown-turned-silver hair away from thirty years your senior. He still remembers before. Talks about movies, talks about computers. Talks about Sarah, when the sun hits the wall at a certain angle and he reckons he could see her standing right there, the soft shadow of her hair dark against the golden wall. When you make a joke and he laughs a ghostly sort of laugh, like he’s hearing the echo of her voice make the same quip three decades ago. He always says she would’ve loved you; you like to think he’s right.

He found you: a lonely little broken heart, and he pulled you to your feet with a rough palm against your own. Hands calloused only from years spent carving wood and pressing the hard strings of his guitar into the fretboard, and nothing else. No violence and no bloodshed; no survival or threat. Music, and patience, and kindness.

And maybe you found him, too, in the same sort of way: roughened up, awkward and messy stitches holding him together. Maybe the two of you nursed one another back to life; each brush of your hands in the dining hall and each meaningful glance while out on patrol sewing those wounds up a little tighter, a little safer.

He sits forward when you hold the instrument out, sweeping a broad palm down the slope of the body. Pinches the pegs one by one, twisting them while his thumb taps on each string.

Come here, he says, beckoning you forward with a flick of his chin. He taps on the seam of his jeans, widens his legs for you to curl up between them at his feet – the way you always do.

Your elbows hook over his thigh, ear pressed against the inside of his knee. Staring up, blinking slowly, eyes glazed with the cold and with the light and with love.

He plucks gently, slow at first. Letting the strings snap with a twang, vibrating enough that you feel the small rattle in your jaw. Your eyes fall closed, head rocking with the light tap of his heel on the porch. When you peer at him through your lashes, he’s watching the skilled movements of his fingers intently; as if he’s as much a spectator as you are – his body doing all of the thinking and working for him.

So, he sings, and your stomach melts to a puddle, so you think you can tell –

Your eyes close again, the low rumble of his voice crisp in your ears. Like thunder, like the promise of something great and mighty. Something moving, something rolling and changing the landscape of your body, your mind and your soul. The lines between living and dying begin to blur, the seam tearing between this plain and the next.

Did they get you to trade – your lips parting to whisper the words with him – your heroes for ghosts?

His thumbnail dragging down the strings, his strong fingers flitting between chords. Like he was made to sit here, in the dead of night, and carve a space in the world for himself and his voice and for you – lain in the safe scope of his body, protected by his breadth and brawn and lulled by his sweet song.

His breadth and brawn – the parts of him which have kept him standing here. His skeleton, his muscle. But the thing that keeps you warm at night, buried side by side under a threadbare woolen sheet together, the thing that you link your arms around as he leads you home from the nights you dare to visit the Tipsy Bison: are his heart, his flesh, the gray-singed hair which falls in a featherlight wave over his forehead. The hair you sweep from his eyes when he’s on top of you, his hips cradled in yours, that all-encompassing feeling of every part of him filling every part of you.

It all feels that way. The warmth of him, the feeling of being wrapped around him. Hooked around his body, bones intertwined. Absorbing one another, his words breathing life into yours, slowly growing louder and braver with each pluck and strum of music.

We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.

Your makeups entangling, ribcages locking together, flesh meeting flesh and hair twisting until one day, Tommy will come looking for his brother and find the two of you here on your porch, your arms still draped over Joel’s thigh and his fingers still mid-song. Stuck, alone, together.

What have we found? Joel looks down to you as though asking the question – his eyebrows raised – and you reply, a dumb smile across your lips, The same old fears, and then, together –

Wish you were here.

He plays until his fingers must start to hurt, the way he clenches and loosens his fist. Setting the guitar against your chair, hands hooking under your arms to pull you back up to him.

That one your favorite? he asks, the cold tip of his nose circling yours.

You nod. Only when you sing it.

I like the way we sound together.

You smile, shrinking into his chest again, your fingers surfing back and forth on the worn shirt. I like the way we do a lot of things together.

His hands slip beneath the fabric of your shirt, massaging your waist. He dots a trail of light, damp kisses along your forehead, dipping to your temple, the angle of your cheek until your jaw lifts and his lips are against yours, his tongue parting to lick purposefully at yours.

I love you, pretty bird, he whispers, the words falling sweet and fair on your tongue.

You take a moment to let them seep into your skin. ‘s the first time you’ve ever said that, you tell him.

Joel smiles. He knows. But you knew it already, he counters.

You know, too. Mhm.

Alright, he groans, slipping his hands under your thighs and hoisting you up to his height, bedtime.

It’s only ten, you complain, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders as he carries you inside. It’s too early to sleep – Joel.

Didn’t say we were goin’ to sleep, he mumbles, kicking the door shut.

#happy max monday is this becoming a thing? can i claim mondays? boomtown rats move the fuck over #i just wanted to sit between joel miller's legs and look up at him all dumb and in love ok?#joel miller #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #jackson!joel #joel miller fluff

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enviedear · 7 months

Note

omg maybe some fluff/angst abt billy being protective. like maybe gf/wife!reader is getting hit on and she can normally protect herself but maybe some guy gets a little too handsy with her and then billy steps in to protect his baby:(( i think i would actually die

protective!billy bonney...

babe i'm always down for protective!billy, because he's just intrinsically protective. and that's hot.

tw— violence, a bullet graze (not billy or reader), men being mysogonistic (this is the wild west idk what to tell ya), unwanted touch (on the waist, no private areas)

request

it'd been a long day already, and the sun hadn't even struck noon. rowdy ranch hands, drunkards, and gang members littered the town square. their minds hazy from drink, worsened by the hot sun.

it was a day of celebration, according to them. the lot of them managed to wrangle up a pack of wild coyotes the night before, the same pack that'd been laying waste to everyone's animals and supplies.

it was a gruesome yet necessary job, but the parlay in town has your ears steaming. they've already ruined an innocent game of catch the local kids had been playing and you roll your eyes when they start to approach you and the rest of the ladies standing outside the dress shop.

you avert your gaze, looking into the crowd for your fiancee. with no sight of billy, who's probably held up at the general store, you focus in on your dusty boots. you'd rather stare at them than the haughty men on their rampage.

"ain't you billy's little thing?" a gruff voice calls out.

you lift your head to find a impish man with tufts of blonde hair, "yes sir, that'd be me." your tone is kind, but your words clipped.

the man draws closer, spitting to his left before giving you a drunken snd sly smirk, "got himself a pretty one, ain't he?"

his question is redundant, and you opt not to answer. instead you give him a smile, slowly backing away and inching toward the entrance of the shop.

the women around you won't be any help, too worried with fending off the other rambunctious men. you're going to have to get yourself out of this one.

the man continues his pursuit of you, "gimme your name, girl. m'bettin' it's real nice."

your fingers find the doorknob behind you but your eyes widen when the door refuses to budge. damn shopkeeper, locking up when you need a safe haven most.

"i'm sorry, sir, my fiancee must be looking for me." your excuse is lame, but you pray it works.

the man steps closer, his hand reaching out to grab your arm. you flinch away, but he manages to grip you tightly anyway.

"come on now, don't be shy," he slurs, pulling you towards him. "what's your name, pretty thing?"

you struggle against his grip, but he's too strong. panic sets in as you realize there's no one around to help you, and you start to fear the worst.

"you need to let go o'me. my fiancee will kill you." you've grown desperate, enough so to lay your strongest card on the table— billy.

the man let out a hearty laugh, "fiancee? ain't no man gonna tie you down, little lady. not till you've had a taste of a real man."

you grow angrier by the second, but you can't help but laugh at his ignorance, "i think that's you giving yourself too much credit, sir," you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "i' got myself a real man, the man i love. now if you don't let me go, you'll be sorry."

the man grows more forceful, pinning you to him, breath brushing your ear and hands groping your waist, "do you well to learn to shut you mouth, girl."

but just as you're about to give up hope, frozen in fear as the man trails his hands over you, a gunshot rings out, piercing the air like a sharp knife.

the man releases you, his face contorting in pain as he clutches at his leg. you inspect the wound as he falls away, just a graze, but you're sure it hurts like hell.

you turn away from the drunk, eyes finiding billy only yards away, his revolver still smoking in his hand. his face is cold and hard, his eyes blazing with anger.

"you heard the lady," billy speaks with a low and menacing voice. "i don't want to kill you, but if i so much as see you touch her again, you'll regret it."

the other men back away, pulling their injured friend with them, fear written all over their faces. they know better than to mess with billy, especially when he's in a foul mood.

you rush towards him, throwing your arms around his neck. his embrace is tight and fierce, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"you okay?" he asks, his voice softening as he looks down at you.

you nod, voice shakey, "i am now," you whisper, feeling safe in his arms.

together, you walk away from the chaos of the town square, grateful for the love and protection you've found in each other.

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#billy bonney x reader #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid #billy bonney #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #coriolanus x reader #corio x reader #coryo x reader

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lycheedr3ams · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you could write about a mean!ghost x reader? Either angst or with a breeding kink🫶

it is a bit unholy how much this ask excited me. i should not be attracted to mean fictional men, but here we are at this point in history

thanks for this ask! I hope y'all enjoy

fem!reader x mean!ghost

MDNI

Warnings: ghost is really mean to reader in the beginning, canon-typical violence, CMNF, humiliation, slight breeding kink, angst, crying, brief mention of female masturbation, fingering, hair-pulling, predator/prey dynamics, pussy slapping, hate sex, orgasm denial, harddom!ghost, dub-con, slight making up at end

Reader is a sniper and your callsign is Reaper

not proofread

you did your best as team 141's new sniper. Gaz, Soap, and Price all warmed up to you rather quickly. you were deadly on the field and friendly when everything was said and done. really, there was no one who didn't like you. you were just too nice, your smile too pure, for anyone to have any problem with you.

Ghost was the only exception. the prickly lieutenant wasn't too fond of having another sniper on the team to compete with, especially since you were, on the books, a better sniper than him. his orders to you were always barked with much more bite than the orders he gave to others. his gaze towards you was always draped with a slight scowl. when you'd get the perfect shot, or save the mission from failing, you never got any praise. all he would respond with was a silent stare that ripped your heart into shreds, or a grunt that sounded more like disapproval.

and you had enough of it.

you asked Ghost if you could speak with him one night while you all were on base, waiting for your next assignment. he couldn't mask the slight surprise in his eyes, before he nodded curtly.

when the time came for you to speak with him, you couldn't help how your heart almost escaped your chest. not only was he your superior, he was Ghost, the one soldier whom everyone feared, like a cryptid in some military folklore. and here you were, about to walk right into his lair, right into his sharp teeth. asking the wolf why he preyed on the lamb.

but there was another problem. Ghost, for all of his horror and renown on the field, was so fucking hot. how he stood tall with his arm crossed in all his masculine glory. how deep and raspy he sounded when he grunted, or how gravelly his voice was in the coms in your ear when he clipped orders at you. how his ass looked in those tactical pants, how you've spent many nights thinking about him as you stuffed your cunt with your fingers. you hated how his voice, his oh so mean voice reserved only for you, soaked your panties almost every time.

you knocked on the door to his office, trying to ignore your pumping heart and throbbing core as you stood and waited.

"come in," his deep voice sounded through the door. you slowly opened it and entered without looking at him as you shut the door. you took a deep breath and faced him, but you kept your back against the door.

"sir," you said dutifully. a formality that you cursed. "i wanted to speak to you about something." your voice shook slightly. despite all the things you've seen, all the people you've killed, this one man has the power to make you weak in the knees and in the head.

"yeah, figured that much," he said shortly. "spit it out."

you gulped, and you stepped forward a little. you would face him confidently, not cowering against the door like a student called into the principle's office. you summoned yourself here willingly, and there was no backing out.

"sir, i've been on the team for a while, and i would like to think that i've been a great asset. but i'm wonderiong if i've done anything to offend you?" you stated.

silence. you could've heard a pin drop in his office as he stared at you with his arm crossed, leaning back against his desk. his cold stare could've frozen your heart.

he wanted you to crack under his gaze. to spit out something stupid that would give him an excuse to dismiss you from the team. but you knew better. you met his deadly gaze head-on. if you were to die here, like this, at least you would do so standing up for yourself.

he slowly blinked, and you felt your heart drop when he finally spoke. "offended me?" he scoffed. "don't flatter yourself."

you slightly furrowed your brows.

"and what makes you think you've offended me?" he asked mockingly. your blood was boiling. you gulped. fuck it. if he was going to be so direct and curt, so were you.

"sir, you treat me differently than the others."

ghost stood up a bit straighter as he squared his shoulders, his arms still crossed on his chest.

"oh yeah?" he goaded. "how so?"

he knew the answer already. he wanted to make you crack, to hear you say it.

"sir, you're a lot... harder on me," you said slowly as you chose your words carefully. "it's the tone in your voice, and the way you look at me."

he inspected you for a moment. "the way i look at you, huh?" he said quietly.

"yes, sir," you said as confidently at you could.

ghost began to walk towards you, slowly, as if he were a beast stalking prey from the shadows. he made a beeline towards you.

"and how is it you think i look at you differently?" he was now within arm's reach as he looked down at you.

you almost lost your train of thought as you looked up at him. this close, he smelled like cigarettes and a tinge of whiskey, and gunpowder. you hated how hot, how attractive, it was. how his eyes stared into your own.

"sir, you..." you thought for a moment. the tension could've been cut with a knife. "you look at me very...disapprovingly."

ghost blinked. "oh, so you want my approval, is that it?" he quipped.

your eyes went wide for a moment before you shook your head. "no, sir. i just want to be treated like an equal member of this team."

your answer must've surprised him, because he leaned back ever so slightly as his eyes widened. but he quickly caught himself and resumed his dangerously indifferent stance.

"and what would it take to make you feel like an equal part of this team?" he asked.

you hadn't expected that. you cleared your throat before you spoke. "i'd just like you to talk to me the way you do to the other members, sir."

"you want me to talk to you like you're a man?" he knew that wasn't the answer.

"not exactly, sir. i just want to be treated like i'm an equal. i can't help but feel like you don't like me."

now he really hadn't expected you to say that. you could see his adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"you come into my office and accuse me of not liking you?" he said coldly.

you looked him in the eyes. "sir, i didn't accuse you. i'm stating my observations and asking you to confirm or deny them."

he observed you for another moment before he started to slowly walk around you, until he was at your back. the hairs stood on the back of your neck as he leaned down to your ear.

"what about the way you look at me?" he whispered.

you instantly blushed, and your heart raced.

"i've seen the way you stare at me, how your eyes wander," he rasped. "how you stare at my arms and my cock."

"sir! i -" you squeaked. but you were cut off when one of his gloved hands came to rest over your mouth, and the other around your stomach, holding you against him. his hardening bulge was pressed against your ass.

"shh, don't want anyone else to hear this, do you?" he cooed in your ear. you breathed hard as you looked up at him, his gloved hand still covering your mouth.

"don't hide it, Reaper, i know you want me," he whispered in your ear. your eyes fluttered shut as you slightly relaxed against him. he smirked.

"that's what i thought." he let you go, and you quickly turned around to face him.

"you don't even know mean," he challenged as he looked at you with bedroom eyes through his skull mask. "i'll show you just how mean I can be."

you gulped again as you looked up at him.

"strip. before i rip those clothes off of you," he commanded.

you looked at him with wide eyes. you stopped breathing.

"that was an order, soldier," he said shorter this time. "don't test my patience."

you slightly nodded at him before you took off your shirt slowly. once it was off, you held it in front of you, over your stomach. but the warning in his eyes told you all you needed to know. you let your shirt drop to the floor with a quiet thud before you went to untie your shoes to remove them and your pants. most of your clothes were now in a heap on the floor next to you, your bra and panties still on.

"all of it. off." he snapped.

you blushed as you removed your undergarments, and wrapped your arms around your stomach as you stood bare before him. he breathed in deeply as he raked every inch of your body with his hungry eyes.

he jerked his head towards his desk. "bend over on the desk. now."

you slowly turned your back to him, walking towards his desk. it felt as if you were turning your back on a predator as you did so. you bent over on his desk until your elbows hit the smooth metal. your nipples perked up from the cold, and you looked behind you as you saw ghost approaching your naked body. the thud of his steps sounded like an earthquake to you as you waited with baited breath.

"look forward," he commanded once he made eye contact with you. you obeyed instantly. his presence could be felt right behind you now, and you gasped as a gloved finger slid over your wet pussy. ghost groaned.

"you can't hate me that much, to be this fucking wet for me," he growled as he all too gently rubbed your folds. "this pussy's just been achin' for me, hasn't it?"

"s...sir..." you said through labored breaths, your eyes screwed shut. but they flew open when he slapped your wet pussy. he huffed out his version of a laugh.

"that's what i thought." he pushed his index finger right against your clit, and you lifted yourself up on your tiptoes as he gently stroked it. "such a brave girl, coming into my office like this. you just wanted my cock so bad."

you shook your head. "no, no that's not why I came. oh!" he pressed harder against your clit, and your body shivered.

"pretendin' to be mad at me. it's got me worked up, i'll give ya that," he said as he splayed one hand over your back, pressing you down.

"i am mad - fuck!" you gasped as he inserted two gloved fingers into your pussy and began to stroke. you couldn't help the moans that flew from your mouth as he hit that spot that made you see stars.

"nothin' but a moanin' bitch for me now that i've got my fingers in you."

you grit your teeth and bit your tongue so that you wouldn't moan. he withdrew his fingers from your pussy but still held your back down. you looked back at him angrily.

"oh, that upset her," he teased. he leaned forward, and his voice took a much deeper and serious tone. "you're going to have to beg for it."

"fuck you," you said on instinct. but your eyes went wide as you realized what you had just said to your superior.

and ghost laughed. "i could dismiss you just for that, you know?" he said as he began to tease your entrance again. your eyes fluttered shut. "but i'm willing to forgive you if you beg for my fingers."

you grit your teeth. the feeling of his gloved fingers against your wet slit was perfect, but not enough. his fingers had filled you up so well, so much better than your own.

"please," you whispered.

"hm? didn't hear you," ghost said as he gently teased your entrance with his fingertips. you gasped.

"p...please," you said a bit louder.

"please what?" his fingertips slid in and out of your pussy.

you whimpered. "please, please i need your fingers."

"atta girl," he cooed as he pressed two fingers inside of you again. you gasped louder this time as he stroked them perfectly on your g-spot. "you sure you want to be treated equally?" he egged you on. "i don't treat any other task force members like this."

you moaned as he continued to stroke you, but suddenly the hand that was on your back came up to your hair and pulled your head back towards him. his fingers began to fuck you at a brutal pace and you screwed your eyes shut.

"i asked you a question, Reaper," ghost spat.

you tried to remember his question as his fingers fucked you. he shook his head. "already forgot? dumb bitch. i asked if you wanted to still be treated like an equal."

you moaned as his fingers curved at the end with each thrust. "n...no!!"

ghost released your hair and held you down again as his fingers continued to fuck you brutally. the sounds of your wet pussy filled his office.

"that's what i thought."

your body began to shake as your climax neared. ghost was just way too good at this, with the way his fingers curled precisely where they needed him to and the pressure of his hand against your back.

"ghost....i'm!"

right as you were about to climax, the second you were about to come, ghost withdrew his fingers from you. you looked back at him wildly, your face red. "what...what the fuck..." you nearly sobbed.

ghost slapped your pussy, and you jumped. "you really think i'd let you come that easily?"

you heard the metal of his belt clinking and the soft sound of a zipper being opened. you tried to turn to see his cock, but one of his hands flew to the back of your head and held your head down on the table.

"you stay still," he growled. you had no other choice but to comply, and you did so willingly. he eased the tip of his cock inside your weeping slit, and you gasped. you thought the process was going to be slow, given how slowly he put his tip inside you, but he suddenly thrusted his entire length into you. his gloved hand closed over your mouth before you could scream.

"stay quiet," he rasped in your ear. you could feel his cock twitching in your warm walls. he groaned when you clenched around him. "gonna use this pussy now."

ghost set a brutal pace immediately, his balls hanging down and slapping your wet clit with each thrust. he stayed leaned over you, holding one hand behind your back by your wrist, with his other hand around your mouth. he grunted quietly with each thrust.

"I know you've been wantin' this."

you clenched around him, and he laughed.

"you like it when I'm mean to you," he stated. but you were too far gone to respond. "you like it when I yell at you, when I put you in your place."

you moaned loudly under his hand as your eyes screwed shut.

"can't let a pretty little face like yours make me go soft," he mumbled against the back of your head.

his words faded, and the tip of his cock reached all the way to your cervix as you moaned against his hand. your toes began to lift from the floor as he fucked up into you harder. you gripped the metal desk as hard as you could before you suddenly came hard on his cock. ghost couldn't hold back the strangled moan that escaped him.

"you like comin' around this cock?" he whispered. you nodded vigorously. "gonna cum in this tight pussy."

he thrusted hard into you, the slaps of skin so lewd, a few more times before he came inside you with a groan. he stood above you, panting, as you both came to your senses. he pulled out and immediately pressed two gloved fingers against your slit to prevent his cum from leaking out. you looked back at him, your hair frizzy and face red.

"still think I'm mean to you?"

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tmzrkstan · 10 months

Text

nct dream and risky places they would make out with idol!reader

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

warnings: kissing, cursing, "risky" situations.

genre: stable relationship, a little smutty, gn!reader.

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

♡Mark:

•Studio it's way more comfortable in Mark's opinion, no more than his room, but for the moment was the best place;

•Whether you are from the same company or just visiting to record content with other idols makes no difference;

•You know recording studios very well, you'd be dragged into one and you'd make out for a few minutes;

•Never overdoing the timing, otherwise it would take it to another level, and he wouldn't want to risk that much.

•"I'd rather run away to be with you and get scolded than get caught"

♡Renjun:

•This man is not a big fan of feeling the danger of being caught, and fear of exposing you;

•BUT, when he can't hold back the urge to hold you in his arms there's nothing stopping him;

•Not even an audience of thousands of fans at his concerts will stop him from taking you out of the seats where you hide behind mask and cap;

•Makeout sessions before his entrance as an incentive, which drives his makeup artist crazy when he saw the mess you made;

•Smiling and being seductive the whole show remembering this, fans found themselves like this 🤨 the whole time;

•"When I'm on stage, remember this man is all yours."

♡Jeno:

•Big music awards demand a lot of production of course, an outfit that no one would normally wear, you knew about it for a long time;

•However, oh boy when your group's concept threw itself into the sexy, did he lose his mind at the sight of you;

•Luckily or not, their tables were always close enough for him to see your reactions to the spice messages he sent;

•It took a lot of persistence for him to manage to get you into an out-of-the-way bathroom stall during commercials;

•It wasn't a lot of time, but enough to calm the big boy in the suit's hormones;

•"It's not me you should complain to, it's your stylist."

♡Haechan:

•Poor stairs of the Music Bank recording building had to receive your groups on the same days one week or another;

•You bet twitter would be full of clips of you guys flirting while sharing the screen during interviews;

•Running away as soon as the camera stopped recording, feeling the animation run wild;

•The possibility of getting caught plus the attraction they felt for each other always made everything crazy;

•"Just the thought of being seen kissing a hottie like you makes it all worth it."

♡Jaemin:

•Festivals, especially those with water performances;

•There was no hair or makeup to mess up plus there was too much information going on to pay attention to the couple hiding in a bathroom or an enclosed corner;

•Plus, he's confident it's just a matter of throwing a towel over the two of them to hide in emergencies;

•No wonder it's the way he goes crazy with your dripping hair and smudged eyeliner, understand his side!

•At the end of the day, he just wanted to have fun since they couldn't have all that in public with normal couples;

•"You can't deny it gets a lot more refreshing."

♡Chenle:

•Ok, but he REALLY prefers privacy, just for the record;

•However, a man's heart is not frozen, how could he deny caresses to his attention-needing partner?

•Demands a lot of demand, but ends up choosing a conference room at the end of a corridor on the top floor;

•Deep down he likes to have meetings about his future activities in the same place where you two made out for hours (oh he makes the executive type of man);

•It's little secrets he keeps to himself with a small sly smile;

•"Likes to see me in the boss chair, huh?"

♡Jisung:

•He is not as expositional as Jaemin and Haechan, but he has his moments of adventure on stage;

•Literally on stage, as early arrivals for sound checks were excuses to meet with each other;

•It was inevitable that they would exchange a few kisses here and there on the stage where in a few hours one of the two would perform;

•On his turn, he was always lost between kissing you or showing the part of the choreography that he had some concern about;

•"I think I'm a lot more confident now."

•----------••----------••----------••----------••-------•

#kpop #imagine #kpop imagines #haechan #nct #mark lee #chenle #jaemin #gn!reader #kpop reactions #lee jeno #renjun #park jisung #nct dream x reader #nct dream imagines #kpop smut reaction #nct reactions #idol!au #idol!reader

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sc0tters · 2 months

Text

Muffin Baskets and Frozen Meals | Jack Hughes

summary: when telling Jack how you felt actually went well.

paring: Jack Hughes x Devils Media Member!

request: yes/no

warnings: none?

word count: 1.89k

authors note: planned for this to be a quick blurb and then it became this. will say that I do love it and I was definitely needing more of this soft man like this today 🥺 did something different with parts of it so I’m not sure if it will land but I look forward to how you guys like soft Jack!

You felt like you were going to throw up.

Jack hadn’t been at practice for the last few days after he went to get surgery on his shoulder “you know he likes you right?” Luke smiled as he had gotten close to you in your opening season with the team.

It made you shake your head as you jumped “I don’t like him.” Your cheeks turned a crimson shade of red as the younger boy laughed in response.

The boys all spent the season watching your crush on Jack develop, it was hard not to when you would be left with a grin each time he approached you. But they didn’t notice your side of the crush first as they were far more focused on Jack’s new desire to apart oof everything that the media team needed extra players for.

The first time they noticed it was when you guys had to do the passing the phone trend. One player was needed at the end to say a line about passing the phone to the fans yet none of the girls wanted to ask the players “should I be offended that you haven’t asked me to be in the video peach?” Jack let his lips curve upright as he watched you look up from your iPad.

You tucked your hair behind your ears as you smiled “wanted to save the best role for you.” You explained making his smile grow wider into a toothy grin.

He started calling you peach after the first day when you bumped into him with a bag of sour peach rings in your hand and since that moment you were his peach and he was bringing you a new bag of candy each week “really?” He cocked his head watching her nod eagerly.

The boy naturally agreed and the team watched you pull him with ease to a quieter area of the practice facility “so do we think that he has had a change of heart or that he just thinks that the new girl is hot?” Curtis was the first to speak up from the group that watched the interaction go down.

Judging by the way your hand interlocked with his, Dawson swore that something clearly happened between you and the Hughes boy before “how do we know she doesn’t have a crush on him too?” He shot back causing a chorus of ahh’s to come from around him as the boys began to agree.

Nico just rolled his eyes “next one to talk about either of their love lives is getting extra laps.” As the words left the captains mouth it seemed like the gathering dispersed leaving Luke to awkwardly look up at the captain “I didn’t say a thing!” He whined as the Swiss man pointed to the door leading to the ice.

Jack swore he was slick in masking his crush on you. Sure he offered to do whatever you needed in the form of social media content, something he never did for anyone else. But maybe he was just trying to be your friend.

The all star game had arrived and given that you were in good books with both Jesper and Jack. The team opted to send you with. This was the first time that the fans finally drew the connection. Because after weeks of trying to figure out who was so special on the social media team.

But then they finally got to see the fan clips of you and Jack making fun of Jesper and it was like the puzzle pieces connected for everyone. All of a sudden fans were finding you and just like Jack, you had flurry of people who liked you “someone’s popular.” Jack teased hearing your phone go off again.

It made you send him a glare as you wanted to kick his shin “you jealous Hughes?” You quipped back letting your teeth catch at your lip.

He laughed as he shook his head “the attention they give you is nothing like what you get from me.” Jack pointed out with a smirk as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

Both of those memories replayed in your mind as you swore the boys were lying to you. It made you conflicted as to what you were meant to write in Jacks get well soon card as it was the final practice of the season and you were going to give the stuff to Luke to give to his brother.

Your tongue darted out of your mouth as you tried to think of how to start the card “now I’m no genius but most people usually start a card with dear and then the persons name.” Nico pointed out as he looked over the wall of your office cubicle.

His words made you jump as your head shot up “wondered how long it would take for you to see me.” He teased making you roll your eyes “nice to see you too Nico.” You mumbled watching him sit in the seat in front of you.

The captain pulled out a set of keys and before you could ask what was going on he handed you one of them “this is for his place.” Nico explained making your eyes go wide “I am not breaking in!” You shook your head not impressed that he offered.

He shrugged as he leaned back in his seat “technically it’s not breaking in if I said you could go.” Luke’s head popped out from the wall next making you his your face in your hand “how many of you are there?” You were scared to know the answer.

So instead you got to see just how many boys there were as Curtis, John, Timo and Dawson all smiled at you “please go put us out of our misery and tell each other how you feel!” Timo begged making the boys nod in agreement.

Your cheeks turned red as you went to complain “and don’t tell me you don’t like him again because the only person who can’t see it anymore is him.” Nico placed his hand on your knee as he took the card from you “you can give these to him in person so you don’t need this.” He explained as you got up.

It made the boys want to let out a silent cheer “now if he turns me down I will kill you all.” You warned making them salute you off as they knew it wasn’t the case “just to be clear we are all changing our locks now if she knows he has keys?” Dawson trailed off with a gulp.

“Definitely.”

Jack was scrolling through the tv bored out of his mind as he heard the knock at the door “who is it?” He called out muting the sound “peaches!” You called feeling weird hearing your own name be brought up in a conversation with him.

The Hughes boy practically jumped off of the couch “hey.” Jack smiled as he opened the door.

It gave you the rare glance you adored to look at his chest “what are you doing here?” He added as he cocked his head.

You felt like your mouth ran dry “came to give you these.” You explained holding up the muffin basket for him to see.

He nodded motioning for you to come in “and I wanted to check on you.” Your words made both of your tender hearts swell with joy “real sweet of ya peach.” The hockey player was beyond curious to see what you let into your basket.

But suddenly he stopped as he headed for his kitchen “was gonna make Luke give you these.” Jack explained as he handed you a bag of peach rings.

“There is something I need to tell you.”

The words came from both of you at the same time “you should go first.” Jack announced giving you the floor to talk.

It made you want to glare at him “I like you a lot.” Your words sounded really weird “like a lot more than I should as someone who works for the devils.” You added making his facial expressions soften.

But as you heard pure silence you thought the worst “god I made this so bad have I?” As panic settled into your system the boy shook his head.

Jack smiled as he pointed to the bag of peach rings. It made you look down all confused until you saw that the bag had I LIKE YOU printed on the front of it “Jack you better not fuck with me.” You warned as you shook your head.

It made him roll his eyes “trust me for that price I am not.” His words were soft as he walked over to you.

The gap between you both quickly began nothing as you looked up at him “so what do you say about staying over for a bit?” He asked cupping your cheek “we can order pizza and watch a movie.” Jack offered as you leaned forward to kiss him instead.

It was a delicate kiss as if you were too afraid that if any passion slipped into it you’d both end up waking from this perfect dream. So instead you both basked in the beauty that came from knowing how his lips left against yours.

Jack could taste your cherry lipgloss on his tongue as he looked at you “are we sure we want pizza?” You asked letting your fingers run up his chest.

His good arm wrapped around your waist “because I have been told I make a mean frozen lasagna.” You announced with such cheek that it made him laugh as a smile spread on your face.

The boy looked at his kitchen “well then I think it’s good we have everything accept the lasagna.” Jack pointed out letting his forehead rest against yours as you both inhaled wanting to not let the moment ever end.

You pretended to think about it for a second “last time I checked you had a brother who was out still.” Your words made his eyes grow wide “I love you.” Jack confessed as he kissed your lips once more before he reached for his phone.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t heard him because you did, but for the first time you weren’t running away from love as that night as he lay resting against your stomach you’d tell him the same three words back. And that was how, the perfect love story -as Nico calls it when he tells your kids the story of the team got you two together.- came to be known.

If someone told you that the meal that would get you into your future husband’s dreams was going to be a frozen lasagna. They would have been wrong. Jack was so in love with you that you could have served up burnt ramen and he would have eaten it.

Life for the two of you finally blossomed together on that day as two paths merged into one. A story that no longer had all these different endings, where you were with different people.

Jack was your person and you were his. So even know after all of the things you have been through in family and in hockey, you did it together.

With the help of your frozen lasagna.

#jack Hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack Hughes imagines #jack Hughes Oneshots #nhl oneshots #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey oneshots #amber writes fics #jack hughes imagine

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teasteeper · 3 months

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ohh i like this…. i got carried away T_T (sorry anon, i had to delete the original ask bc tumblr deleted half of this when i first posted it. i hope u see this <3)

suggestive 18+ mdni

before you started working for them hendery couldn't care less about getting his makeup done, seeing it as a time to scroll through his phone, his eyes burning after waking up only thirty minutes prior. he's truly a man in that he doesn't get makeup, barely noticing a difference between his bare face and his face after sitting in the chair for an hour. he hates those tiny angled brushes near his eyes, the feeling of foundation suffocating. he honestly prefers the days when he's running late, getting pushed into the chair while all the makeup artists band together to make him look flawless in under ten minutes. the less time he has to spend getting his makeup done, the better.

that's until the day you started, brushing glitter onto yangyang's eyelids as hendery stumbled through the door forty five minutes late, a baggy hoodie draped over his shoulders and his hair sticking up in all directions. did he even wake up?, he thinks, frozen awkwardly in place as he deciphers whether his tired eyes were actually staring at the prettiest girl he's ever seen or if he was still dreaming.

the artist hunched over kun subtly rolls her eyes at the sight of hendery, tapping your shoulder and pointing to him with her foundation cushion, "i'll finish yangyang's makeup. you can start on him"

hendery sits in the makeup chair, heart racing as you pick up your bag of supplies and move towards him. it's too early for this, he thinks, the soft smile you give him and your sweet vanilla scent, your fingers gently clipping his hair away from his face. it all goes straight to his dick, his mind still half asleep and morning wood not yet fully soft. yeah, it's too early for this.

from then on he sets his alarms extra early, fixing his hair and putting on a decent outfit before getting to set on time, aiming to make getting his makeup done last as long as possible. the members couldn't care less, just happy that he hasn't been late for weeks. but you notice, looking forward to the early mornings you spend talking and laughing together. there's no use denying your big dumb crush on him, butterflies in your tummy when you tell him to look up at you, instantly following your command and showing you his big pretty eyes so you can do his eyeliner.

he actually starts to take an interest in makeup, purely because it's your job, and he swells with pride when you start to take an interest in wayv, listening to their music on the regular and getting fully invested in the team. to hendery it feels like you're his biggest fan, waiting off stage between performances so you can touch up his makeup and fix his hair.

this week finally comes around, and everyone's on edge, what with kcon and countless other performances wayv's scheduled to do. hendery's happy to see you loading your luggage into one of the black suvs parked outside the company building to take you all to the airport. you're there after every performance, his eyes scanning through the crowd of staff members for you. he gives you a tired lopsided smile as he steps forward, spreading his feet apart to make himself shorter. then you feel his hands on your hips, and you're left staring wide eyed at his closed eyes, waiting for you to powder his face. it feels like you're standing like that for hours, the soft weight of his hands on your hips, his abs tensing with his heavy breaths. who the fuck chose this outfit? his jacket mostly unzipped with no shirt underneath, the elastic of his briefs on full display. the worst part is he knows he looks good, flashing you his smile before running back to the stage for their next song.

you think this might be the best job ever as you pack up your makeup bag, watching the last song of their performance on the monitor backstage. hendery finds you again as soon as they're backstage, "follow me" he whispers, placing a hand on your lower back and looking over his shoulder as he ushers you toward the artists' entrance and through the door outside.

"hendery wh-" you're backed against one of the black suvs parked outside, hendery's hands on your hips like before. they tremble with adrenaline, sweat dripping down his temple with heavy breaths passing through his lips. "can i kiss you?"

you can barely finish your whimpered consent before he's dipping his head down, lips crashing to yours in a heated kiss. he's surprisingly gentle, grounding himself by pressing his fingers into your hips. muscles flex in his jaw and his cheeks hollow, swallowing your dreamy sighs. you're fully pinned to the car behind you, your tshirt riding up and his belt buckle cold as it presses against your tummy.

your hips are pressing up against his, whimpering into his mouth, and his restraint snaps. his arm circles your waist and pulls you into him so he can open the door to the backseat, "get in, baby" he's relieved it isn't locked, watching your shirt ride up your back as you crawl in.

he wastes no time pulling your leg over his hips so you're straddling him, tipping his head back to kiss you. he has to be back inside in a few minutes, hands roaming your body to feel as much of you as possible. his lips trail down your jaw, softly sucking marks onto your neck. he leans back every few seconds to check his work, addicted to the way your skin blotches and shines with his spit.

and you're even better than he dreamed you'd be, impatiently jerking your hips against his, your chest pressed to his and your arms clung around his neck. with the way you just melt in his hands, he figures you'd let him fuck you right here in the back of the luxury car. he nearly considers getting his cock out and making you sit on it, but the bubble around you two bursts, two loud knocks striking the car window. hendery's manager shuffles awkwardly outside, his back turned to you as if he hadn't just seen you two drooling into each others' mouths.

hendery turns back to you with an exasperated expression and feign panic in his voice, "does my makeup look okay?"

"i'll fix it" you smile, wiping your lip gloss from his mouth.

#asks #hendery #wayv #nct #hendery drabbles #hendery smut #hendery x reader #hendery x you #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv hard thoughts #wayv hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles

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forbebeandjam · 1 month

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hi, can you pls make smutty fluffy fic with stalker bada x reader where like reader is regular customer of bada’s cafe or sth and bada gets obsessed day by day then stalked reader without knowing reader has a crush on her. Then they ended up together!! thanks in advance!xoxo<3

The Perfect Stalker | Bada Lee x Fem Reader | 21+

Summary: you met a beautiful barista who turned out to be your stalker.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: fingering, stalking, thigh riding MDNI

Readers discretion is advised!!

A/N: might be a bit rushed but I think you will like it. Love you!!

"Welcome in. What can I get for you today?" Bada said as a customer walked through the door.

Working at that coffee shop was part of her usual routine. She used to dread every time she had to clock in since dealing with customers wasn't really something she wanted to do every day.

"I'll have a latte with three pumps of vanilla and a splash of heavy cream and make it a decaf with oat milk," The woman said.

"Sure thing. Would you like that hot or iced?" Bada said but the woman wasn't paying her any mind as she looked at her phone.

"Ma'am?" Bada asked once more.

"Uh, no iced. I'm here every day, you should know this. The name is Yujin. Keep the change," the woman tossed the money on the counter and walked off.

Bada took a deep breath. She clutched the money and threw it into the register.

"I swear I can't do this any longer," Bada said to her coworker.

"Those dance classes won't pay themselves, Bada," He replied with a smile. She rolled her eyes and turned to the bar to begin making a drink.

The cafe was very empty. Rush hour was over and Bada began to clean the counters when she heard the door open.

"Hi, welcome in," She said and looked up to greet the person but she froze.

You stood before her with a warm smile. Dressed in ripped jeans with a white crop top and sneakers, your hair was up in a claw clip and a few strands were loose at the front you walked into the register.

Bada was mesmerized by you. She was frozen in her spot and just looked at you as you looked at the menu above her.

"How good is your lemon pie? I heard good things about it but I'm not really into lemon flavors," you said diverting your sight to her.

she swallowed hard and didn't answer until the guy next to her nudged her shoulder.

"Oh, um... sorry. I am not a fan of it but you could try our chocolate and strawberry pastry. It's balanced so it isn't too sweet," she replied not daring to look at you.

"Oh, I'll have that and a regular black coffee," You said as you handed the car to her. She nervously reached out and took the card from your hands exposing her wave tattoo at you.

"That's a beautiful tattoo, miss. What's your name?" You asked wanting to know more about the gorgeous girl before your eyes.

"I'm Bada. Lee Bada," she said still looking down.

"Oh, hence the tattoo. I love it. Your eyes are pretty too," you said with a giggle making her look up at you.

"Ha, made you look," You said and she finally smiled.

"Here is your card back," she said and you took the card in your hands.

"Y/N, do you want to go to the beach this summer or should we go to the countryside?" A male voice said as he walked up to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you saw Bada's face turn sour.

"I'm busy, Min. Can you wait for me out there?" You said as you pushed him off you.

"I was going to say... I really like your tattoo. That wave is so cute," you smiled and she blushed.

"Bada... make that drink," her coworker said making her turn and almost slip. You giggled at her clumsy actions finding it cute how flustered she became around you.

So for the next couple of days, you would show up to buy a coffee and just sit in the lobby to watch her work. What you didn't know was that over the course of the days, Bada would leave work and follow you around.

She followed every step you took from a distance all the way to your home. She would sit at a bench in front of your house and she would watch who walked in and out.

Her blood would boil every time she saw Min walk out of your house late at night. She wanted to rip his head off and then present it to you as a trophy for your love.

A few weeks passed by and you had caught Bada following you. You knew you were head over heels for the girl, but you didn't know she also felt the same way. Why else would she be following you, right?

"Min, grandma needs you to go to take care of her for a few days. Mom has to travel to her new job. Please?" You asked your brother on the phone as you waited to order.

Bada popped from under the counter and smiled at you.

"What can I get for you?" She said.

"I'll take a regular iced coffee. Black," you said.

"Are you at that coffee shop again? Are you there to see your girlfriend, the barista, Bada?" He said and you thanked the seven seas you didn't have him on speakerphone.

"You know what? Mom should've given you up for adoption when we were born. Having a fraternal twin sucks. Go take care of grandma, Min before I rip your hair out," you said into the phone and hung up immediately.

"Here is that coffee for you," Bada said as she placed your drink on the counter. You looked at the cup and noticed that it wasn't a regular glass cup and it was in a plastic cup.

"Oh, what happened to your glass cups?" You asked.

"Nothing. We still have them but I just thought that you might have something to do after and you wouldn't want to be late," she said not looking at you.

"Um... are you kicking me out?" You said while grabbing the cold drink.

"No! Oh my gosh... I mean... I'm sorry," she said as she picked up the mess she made while panicking over your words.

"I'm kidding. I do have to go to the gym and I'm always late so, thank you for the drink. I'll see you later," you said flashing her a wink.

She melted. Everything about you made her go crazy. She knew following you around was probably wrong but she couldn't help it.

So you went to the gym and then headed home. You looked back once when you heard footsteps. Then you felt a presence behind you but there was no one. You knew Bada was probably hiding behind a wall or a bush but decided to ignore it and simply giggle while you walked.

When you reached the door to your house, you carefully unlocked it and stopped. You turned back and looked around when you saw a pair of shoes behind a bush.

"So, are you going to keep following me around like that?" You asked but she didn't move.

"Bada, I know you're right there. Come on out," you said once more and her shoes slowly moved.

"Do you want to come in?" You asked and she fiddled with her fingers walking slowly towards you.

You huffed and walked to her holding her wrist and pulling her into your house. You asked her to sit on the couch and offered her a cup of chamomile tea when you saw how tense she looked.

"So, why have you been following me from afar?" You asked.

"I'm sorry. I know it's creepy and you have a boyfriend so I don't want any problems. You're really pretty and I wanted to be close to you but I can't bring myself to talk to you," she said quickly.

"Whoa! Why do you think I have a boyfriend?" You asked.

"The boy that comes and leaves your house. Isn't that your boyfriend?" She said.

"Ew! Gross. That is my twin brother. Fraternal twins, so we look nothing alike. Bada, you know how much I've been meaning to flirt with you but you never look at me? It was honestly driving me insane..." you said taking a sip of your wine glass.

"Wait... what?" she said and tilted her head like a curious puppy making your heart flutter.

"What? You're a cute, and very attractive dancer. Though when you dance, you are extremely hot... but I have been watching you as well. I am attracted to you, Bada. In every possible way," You drank the last of your wine and put the glass down walking towards her.

You saw how she flinched back and you furrowed your brows at her reaction. Sure, you were being too direct and you didn't know how Bada would react but you need to know if she wanted you like you wanted her.

"Is that not why you followed me around the neighborhood? I caught you in the bus, the gym, the grocery store, and the alleyway. For Pete's sake, Bada. You sat in front of my house for hours. If not, then what was the reason?" you asked waiting for an answer as you sat closer to her.

You saw how nervous she was getting and decided to back off.

"Sorry. You know what? I can be too much at times so just ignore me. I'll call you an Uber to take you home," You said but as you were about to get up you felt her grip on your wrist.

You turned and met with the most gorgeous eyes looking up at you ever so innocently but hungry for one thing. You.

"Bada-"

"No, let me talk. I have been dying to talk to you because I... well, I've never dated or been with a woman before but you're so pretty and I was just drawn to you. Please don't let me leave. I'll regret it if I do," Bada said almost pleading.

Your heart softened at the sight of the tall girl looking up at you but there was something more.

"What do you want from me, Bada?" You asked and she pulled you making you fall on top of her. You ended up in her lap and her hands went around your waist.

"I want you. In every possible way," Bada responded and you immediately clashed your lips with hers hungry for a kiss. She bit your bottom lip and her hands moved up and down your shirt.

Soft groans escaped her lips when you began to move down her neck. Her grip on your waist tightened and you could feel her nails dig into your skin when you used your hand to squeeze one of her clothed breasts.

"Y/N~" she moaned and you smiled.

"I'll give you what you need," you said. You moved your leg so you could straddle her.

Your hand was already sliding into her pants and her legs parted willingly allowing you full access to her now-wet cunt. You inserted a finger inside of her with no warning causing her to yell out.

"Fuck... you're so wet for me, huh?" Y/N said as she pumped slowly in and out of the girl. She was already a moaning mess. You didn't stop your moments and you sped up by the minute searching for her spot.

"I- I never thought- I would end up in this- AH! Please, don't... stop..." she said between moans.

"Wouldnt think of it, Bada," you said curling your finger inside of her making her yell out in pleasure. You found it. You kept pressing down on it as your thumb rubbed her overstimulated clit.

You had already came just from watching her and riding her thigh but you didn't care about yourself. You were in ecstasy just from being able to touch Bada. You had been longin in desire of her in every single way.

With one last stroke and her body already shaking, she came on your hand and you brought it to her lips for her to taste herself shoving your finger deep down her throat making her moan even more.

After a few seconds, you both finally came to your senses.

"Holy shit, how are you so good?" Bada asked and you giggled without saying another word.

You stood up and took her to your room where you both got cleaned up and in bed.

"You know... you could've just talked to me," you said as you looked at Bada.

"No... I couldn't have," she said and you sat up.

"Why not?" You questioned

"When you walked in the shop... you were so surreal. You were just so perfect and I am too shy for my own good," Bada replied.

"You're so cute. Come here," You said pulling her into your chest and stroking her hair.

"I'm here for you now,"

Thank you for reading 🩵

#forbebeandjam #honeybee156 #street woman fighter 2 #bebe #swf2 #lgbt #bada lee #bada lee smut #bada lee imagine #bada lee x reader #bada lee fluff #fluff #street woman fighter x reader

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kaylopolis · 9 days

Text

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Six

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!)

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, VOX IS BACK BABY!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Six - A Stroll

Content Warning: Obsession, Choking, Graphic Sexual Scenes Involving Violence, Self Harm, Minors DNI!

Vox poured a cup of coffee into his “Fuck Alastor” mug and whistled as he exited the penthouse suite, heading for his office.

“What has him in such a cheery mood this mornin’, hmm?” Val asks from his spot on the couch, flipping through various channels on the television. The moth demon sipped from his own “Pimpin’ Not Simpin” mug.

Velvette sat on the edge of the countertop, a new phone in hand, tapping away. “Something about his mysterious Alley Girl. How the Hell should I know?”

“The bitch staying with Alastor?” Valentino adjusted his rose glasses.

“Yup.”

Val took another sip of his mug, before finally flipping to 666 News. “I can’t even get that lanky prick to return my calls, and Mr. Flat Screen thinks he can romance one of Charlie’s Redeemers without pissing off the Smiling Freak?”

Velvette finally puts the phone away. Grabbing her own coffee cup, she jumps over the back of the couch to join Valentino in watching the morning broadcast. “At least he’s movin’ on.” She shrugs. “If I have to hear him bitch one more time about Al…”

The television chimed, interrupting their conversation and announcing the start of a special broadcast. “Travis Miku, a former employee of V Tower Productions, was found burnt to a crisp this morning just outside the Entertainment District…”

Val spit his coffee across the room. “What!?”

____________________________________________

“Okay, Scales,” you laugh, pouring the coconut milk into the cup.

“Ay’, nicknames are my thang, Hair clip!” Angel scolded from his seat at the table.

“What do you think of this?” You spun, sending the cappuccino flying down the table. It sailed with such force that it flew right past the snake demon and crashed onto the tile floor next to a pair of black and red dress shoes. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice the run of static down your spine.

Fuck.

“My, it seems I have stumbled across the old rough and tumble this morning,” the demon’s radio clicks onto a smooth jazz before he slips into his apron and starts the stove. He’s in a good mood.

You’re frozen in place for a moment, very aware of the Radio Demon standing right next to you and the mere inches the coffee cup had to spare before acosting him. The room has gone silent, nervously awaiting the Radio Demon and his temper. Yet, it doesn’t come.

Your eyes flit down to his red and black shoes - not a speck on them - you wouldn’t - couldn’t - make eye contact with the demon. Especially after last night. Your cheeks heat with the memory of his lips on yours.

Fucking Hell. You’ve never experienced this before. You’ve never wanted to do… sexual things. It wasn’t in your nature. Dad raised you on the belief that anything before marriage was a sin and so you spent the majority of your life believing the same thing. When you finally were free of him you found that you just didn’t have any interest. Not in men or women. It just wasn’t something you thought of.

Your closest friend tried to talk you into it, she was as promiscuous as they get - she’d rival even Adam’s body count - but you just didn’t really want to. She’d go off and sleep with whatever had two legs, while you’d prefer a good book and a glass of wine in your bed.

Now? Your thoughts and feelings towards those things were getting… confusing. Alastor was making those things confusing and you really hated to admit that.

White-knuckled, the demon whipped a few eggs - clearly holding back his agitation from your almost attack. You wondered what it would take to break his smile, get him to try and frown for once. You wondered what you would have to do to wipe that smirk off his face…

Oh, and part of you would love to try but another part knows you needed to get on his good side.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you grab a towel to…

“Oh, no, allow me, darling,” he snaps his finger and the pile of destroyed ceramic disappears.

You swallow, “Thank you.” Turning back to the machine, you begin a new cup for Pentious and a hot cup of chai coffee for Alastor, listening awkwardly to the demon humming beside you.

“So…” Husk starts. “Heard you were heading to Mimzy’s today.”

“I am,” you and the Radio Demon respond at the same time. His radio skips a beat, the jazz song turning to static as he meets your eye - God, that was starting to get annoying. His left eye twitches ever so slightly betraying his mask of a smile.

You side eye the barkeep over your shoulder. You knew what he was doing. He was tasked to watch after you, which meant reporting your movements, especially when it involved the Overlord’s acquaintances - not cool Husk, not cool.

“And what business would you have with ~my~ darling Mimzy?” Alastor’s radio clicked back to a smooth jazz. Did he play anything else?

My Mimzy? MY?

“Just picking up a few things,” you turn back to the coffee, doing your best to concentrate on your coconut creation and the chai brewing next to it.

“Seems we will be running in the same circles today then, Ms. Thestral,” his voice purrs.

“Seems we will,” you wipe the rim of the cup before turning to the table, mugs in hand. You kept your eyes down, not wanting to catch Alastor’s gaze.

Perhaps if you coordinated, you could find a time to get to the club when Alastor wouldn’t be there…

“Care to join me?” The demon purred.

Your heart sank through your stomach and onto the floor. You practically dropped the mugs in your hand before setting them gently on the table. Finally, your eyes caught his.

He looked rather domestic like this - frilly pink apron, spatula in hand. If no one knew who you were they’d think you a couple, getting ready for a quiet breakfast at home. Good thing your audience knew better. You were more likely to kill each other than anything else. And, underneath all of that, the demon looked utterly exhausted…

You shoot him your prettiest, most sincere smile, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. “I would be delighted,” you answer through gritted teeth.

“Delightful,” the demon beams at you, his irises lighting up like crimson crystals.

Angel leans over to whisper to Husk, “What is happening?”

“Breakfast!” Alastor abruptly drops the pan, making the entire room jump. “Enjoy.”

The three blink before digging in, doing their best to ignore whatever pissing contest you and Alastor had found yourselves in - except for Angel. The Porn Star loved drama.

The Radio Demon leans in, his gaze boring into you. You feel something tickle the peripherpy of your power. It wasn’t his shadow and it wasn’t him probing your power. It felt like his radio static had brushed up against your fire, like a caresse across your skin. It was eerily similar to the feeling you got when you and he made the deal atop the radio tower.

Could he feel that too?

Your cheeks heated as he came closer, his gaze suddenly changed. From a look of pure anger to something else… “You’re not afraid of me.”

The statement sent a shiver down your spine.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned in closer, pushing all thoughts of his lips from your mind, of his hands on your throat, of his thigh between your legs, his chest flush with yours… “Seems Charlie left that part out of the tour.” You smirked, your red lipstick contrasting against your white teeth. You wished you had more prominent canines for a situation such as this.

God, why did Alastor make you feel so… so… angry!? That was the only way to describe what was happening. He made you angry.

He laughed, a deep rumble from his chest, not the fake showman’s laugh you normally heard from him. His face lit up in a way you hadn’t seen before from the Overlord. Then he fell silent, uncharacteristically so. His eyes dipped down. Not to your neck. No, his gaze didn’t drop low enough.

Was he… What is he… Your face grew warm as a blush crept up from your collarbones.

He was staring at your lips.

“Um, excussssse me?” Sir Pentious’ question broke the tension, bringing you both back to the room.

You cleared your throat, finding your seat at the table.

Ignoring the looks Angel Dust was shooting you from across the room, you pushed the cappuccino to the snake.

“...I don’t eat eggssss.” The serpent smiled. “May I have pancakesss?” He beamed.

Alastor’s smile strained. “Of course, my slippery friend.”

You were in no place to point out that pancakes still had eggs in them.

“...With chocolate chipsss?” He blinked, his eyes growing big.

The Radio Demon snapped the spatula in half in his hand. “Right away.”

You resisted the urge to laugh, finding your own mug of hot coffee. The static returned to the room, switching angrily between stations before returning to a smooth jazz.

“Morning!” Charlie yawned. She had a small bouquet of blue flowers in her hand. “Thestral these came for you.” She placed the bouquet down in front of you before finding her seat.

There’s a card.

Your blood runs cold.

Holy fucking shit.

“Who they from?” Angel asks.

You crumble the note in your hand. “Nobody important,” you quickly lie.

Fucking blue Forget-Me-Knots. How fucking hilarious of him. How in the Hell did he find you and know who you are!? You’d burn these to a crisp if you didn’t have so many eyes on you.

You went over to the garbage and aggressively tossed the flowers in, irritation prickling the back of your neck. Before you had a chance to register what was happening, Angel slipped his fingers in yours, and pulled the crumbled note from your grasp. You lunged for the paper, but one of his hands pushed down on your head, placing you thoroughly out of range of his many appendages.

The spider demon’s mouth dropped. “Vox!?”

Shit.

The room went silent.

Vaggie grabbed the paper from Angel and read it herself. “Why is an Overlord sending you flowers?”

Ah, how to explain…

“I…” You pinched the bridge of your nose between forefinger and thumb. “I fixed his bowtie…” You grumbled.

“You fixed his bowtie?” Angel repeated, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Why were you anywhere near him?” Vaggie was in your face now, challenging you from her even shorter stature.

“He ran into me, quite literally, on my way to the club, after Rosie’s,” your eye’s flit to Alastor, but he was nonchalantly perched behind black and white text, sipping the coffee you had made him. Was he ignoring this conversation or just not interested? “His bowtie was tangled, so I fixed it for him, but he had no idea who I was. I didn’t even give him my name! I have no idea how he found me or why he’d even send me flowers…” You slammed the lid of the garbage can shut.

“Wait, you went to Rosie’s!?” Vaggie challenged.

“She’s my tailor…” You were now thoroughly irritated. “That doesn’t matter!” You fell into your seat with a thud, arms crossed in front of you, you slumped onto the table. A wave of coolness puddled beneath your ankles as you sat - Alastor’s shadow you assume.

“You had a meet-cute with Vox?” Angel was still stuck on that part.

Alastor flipped the page of his newspaper rather aggressively, his shadow twirling around and around your feet. He wasn’t Vox’s biggest fan, so you’re sure the entirety of the Hotel crew obsessing over your interaction with him wasn’t sitting well with the Overlord.

You shot the spider demon a confused, yet exasperated look. Vaggie and Charlie shared a look of concern. Husk poured more alcohol into his orange juice.

“Why the fuck, do you hang around so many Overlords…” Vaggie started but, Charlie interrupted her.

“What Vaggie means to say is, we’re worried about you,” Her voice was sweet as she came to sit next to you, crouched so she could catch your eyeline.

“Was it hot?” Angel wiggled his eyebrows at you. “Was there tension of the… sexual nature?” He beamed. Your face turned scarlet.

“Angel, I don’t…” You start but are interrupted.

SNAP!

The Radio Demon’s newspaper disappeared as did his music. Summoning his microphone, he stormed from the kitchen, leaving the rest of you in a wave of silence. His shadow followed, almost as if it was pulled away rather aggressively.

“What was all that about?” Vaggie snapped.

“He looked kind of mad, maybe I should go check on him?” Charlie started to stand but Vaggie pushed her back down.

“Uh, no! No way! You are not going after an Overlord with an anger issue.”

You sighed into your arms. This day was starting off great…

Charlie’s eyes shot to Husk. Pouting her lip, she silently begged the barkeep.

“Ugh!” Rising to his feet, he chugged the rest of his drink. “I don’t get paid enough for this shit.” He disappeared through the flapping kitchen door.

“Not to change the subject, but has anyone seen Nifty?” Angel asked.

“Not since last night. I swear if she’s stuck in the ventilation shafts again…” Vaggie swore under her breath in Spanish.

“Maybe we should go look for her?” Charlie ran her hands through her hair, still watching the kitchen door swing on its hinges.

“Good idea, let’s split up into teams. I call Thestral!” Angel practically dragged you to your feet. Pushing you out the door, he called back, “Hair clip and I will check this floor!”

“This conversation isn’t over!” Vaggie called out after you.

Next thing you know you were following him down the hallway, coffee-less and grumpy. You weren’t yourself before that first cup of joe and the Hotel Natives had not yet learned what happens when you don’t get it. Plus, the whole Vox situation was just tipping you over the edge.

Static found your spine as you walked - Alastor. His shadow was following you.

Angel made a great deal of effort to check every nook and cranny as you walked, but your eyes were on him. “Thank you for rescuing me,” You stop walking, irritation prickling your skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the shadow of the table twitch ever so slightly.

He takes a glance down both hallways, ensuring you were alone. “You know what just happened don’t ya’?”

You raised an eyebrow in question.

“Flirting with the Radio Demon like that and then throwing Vox in his face. Are you nuts?” He grabbed at his hair.

“What!?” You barked, your jaw practically on the floor.

“I saw the way the two of yous… Owe! Owe! Owe! How are you this strong!?” You dragged Angel by his ear to the foyer and out the front doors. Husk was at the bar, shooting you weird looks, but eventually he shrugged it off and went back to cleaning up broken glass.

You didn’t stop until you were standing in the middle of the cobblestone road, in broad daylight, with the closest puddle of shadows at least thirty feet away. Alastor’s shadow could still reach you if it wanted to, but it didn’t know that you knew it was following you - so, it would have to stay hidden. It was now, thankfully, out of earshot.

“What the fuck was that for?” Angel rubbed his ear as you released him.

“Let’s get this straight. I was not ~flirting~ with the Radio Demon. I hate him. What you saw was me not backing down to his intimidation. I refuse to cower before someone who thinks they have some sort of power over me.” You gritted through your teeth. “Also, I did not ask for attention from Vox. I did not ask for flowers. I didn’t want it brought up but you had to go and snoop into my business!”

Angel blinks at you, before something clicks in his mind. “Oooh, I get it now! You wanna hate fuck him.” Angel beamed at you.

Goddammit. You’d rip his head off right here if you didn’t like him so much.

“Look, if Smiles is what does it for ya…”

“Angel,” you bite, but he continues over you.

“…then I’m not one to judge, but you should know one thing. Never, in the history of Hell, has the guy been seen with anyone.”

“Wha… What!?” Your face was turning red, not out of embarrassment but anger. How could Angel think that this was what you wanted to hear right now!?

“Yup, better believe it. Overheard Valentino and Vox talking about it. Apparently the guy’s a total loner. I’m not saying he’s a virgin but there’s a possibility.”

You could feel the heat bubbling beneath your skin, threatening to break through.

“Although come to think of it, Vox talks about Alastor’s sex life quite a bit. Wonder what…”

“Angel Dust,” you snap. “I don’t care about Alastor’s sex life.” You were seconds away from ripping the hair out of your head - reminding yourself that this was Angel, you did your best to contain yourself.

“Oh, well you should.” He crosses his arms, a smirk across his face.

Pinching the bridge of your nose between forefinger and thumb, you do your best to take a breath. “Why would I care about who Alastor has or has not slept with?”

“Because he’s heading this way,” the spider demon points over his shoulder. You spin, blush creeping into your skin, turning the pink to a bright red. You pray he hadn’t heard you talking just now.

The demon slips through the front door, his cane clacking against the ground as he descends upon you. You're helpless, your mind blank as he comes to stand just feet from where you and Angel had been hiding from his shadow.

You were so irritated with Angel and focused on Alastor’s shadow you had missed the static creeping down your spine alerting you to his impending presence.

“Hello, darling, you wouldn’t be leaving without me, would you?” The demon’s smile gives nothing away - if he heard you, he made no show of it.

“Oh, no. She’s all yours, Smiles.” Angel practically shoves you forward. “You, me, bar, later!” He demands as he heads for the safety of the Hotel. Behind Alastor’s back, Angel sends you a quick wink before disappearing inside.

You had grown quite attached to Angel Dust in the short time you’ve been here. So much so that his innocent flirting and quick sex quips brought a smile to your face. And because of that - the muscle twitching in your jaw - you still couldn’t find the room to hate him. Angel Dust was pure - despite his choice of profession - and you found yourself again wondering how Valentino could lay his hands upon such a wonderful person. Even if he can be a twat sometimes.

“Actually, we were looking for Nifty,” you crossed your arms, willing your heart to stop pounding. He could probably hear it from where he stood.

“Ah, it’s a good thing our effeminate friend headed back inside then. The Little Angel has found herself wedged within an air shaft on the ceiling of the library.” He saddles up next to you, your head coming to the height of his chest, before holding his elbow out to you. “Shall we?”

You thought the Radio Demon didn’t like to be touched?

Begrudgingly, you loop your arm in his, your fingers coming to rest atop his jacketed forearm - did he ever wear anything else? - doing your best to ignore the fact that you were touching him. He was warm - not something you expected from him. His shadows always felt so cold when they wrapped around you, you had assumed he would be much the same - cold and dead.

You took a sniff to try and grasp his emotions, to see if he smelled of deceit and indeed had overheard your conversation, but instead of the lemony tartness of the emotion, he smelled of musk, of the deep woods after a rainstorm. It was… unexpected… Especially considering you hadn’t been able to scent anything off of him before this.

And his attitude? He stormed out of the kitchen not twenty minutes ago and now he appears here, his smile seemingly normal, not an ounce of stress in his eyebrows. You wondered what happened to change his mood so quickly?

You did your best to keep your eyes on the path ahead as you walked. “You don’t seem so concerned for someone in your… services?”

He laughed, “Oh, darling, I see you did some homework. Yes, Nifty is a soul I own, and yes she does find herself in a bind quite often.” He helped you down the curb and into the street as you crossed. Despite the smiles on your face, the tension between the two of you was so palpable you could cut it with a knife. “But the difference is, that I trust them to take care of her.”

You scoff, sidestepping a dead rat. “If not I guess you have Husk to tattletale later.”

Out of the corner of your eye, something in the demon’s demeanor turns dark. “You would be surprised how difficult that barcat can be…”

You wonder what happened after Alastor and Husk left the room. There was no shouting or arguing but apparently some broken glass? Perhaps it was Alastor’s anger towards the barkeep. Perhaps it was his irritation with Vox. Whatever it may have been, he appears unphased now. That or he’s really good at putting on a show.

You pass the Entertainment District, V Tower looming overhead. Alastor stiffened slightly, his other hand coming to rest on your arm against his.

Yeah, definitely a Vox issue.

Your heart skips a beat as his gloved fingers settle atop yours and you resist the urge to pull away.

His fingers on yours…

Your face heated.

Shit, think of something else.

You fixate on V Tower. God, the past few nights spent perched on rooftops and just listening and watching Vox and his little gang bitch about absolutely nothing were really starting to get to you.

But last night you had slept. Which doesn’t sound like a lot but you haven’t truly had a decent night’s rest since coming to the Hotel. Now, with Alastor’s radio, you could finally catch a few Zs - despite the dream. You were ignoring that it even happened - as best you could.

At first the music was used to drown out the screams of the Sinners those first few days in Hell, then it became something you needed. It made you feel weak to rely on something so trivial, but, hey, this was Hell - suffering on some level had to be involved.

“Thank you,” you finally managed, looking down at your feet. “For the radio.”

Alastor’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly, his fingers twitching on your arm. “Of course, my dear. Whatever I can do to help.” He didn’t sound as cheerful as his words. His mind fixated on the media demon’s tower looming over you.

Might as well address it directly. You didn’t work well with… complicated emotions, but anger? Fuck. Anger was your best friend.

“Vox has been quiet lately.” You prod. “Ever wonder why he hasn’t flat out tried to take you down?” Heaven’s Clocktower came into view.

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I suspect his systems are still reloading,” he answers coolly.

“Hmm,” you ponder. “For a seemingly all powerful Overlord, the man has one major weakness.”

“And what would that be, darling?” The edge of Cannibal Town was coming into view. You took a right - heading for the old section of the Entertainment District.

You ignored the butterflies in your belly, now kicked up in a flurry at his purr of “darling.”

You wonder if Alastor is technically not allowed in any part of the Entertainment District - seeing as how it is the Vees’ territory. But what did they care about an old jazz club tucked away in the far less frequented parts of Pentagram City?

“Unplug him,” you smiled at your own joke.

And, to your surprise, the Radio Demon tips his head back and laughs. Not his corny showman laugh, but a deep rumble that emanates from within his chest. You’re shocked for a moment, not sure of how to take his change in emotion, but then your quiet giggles join his.

At least Vox was something you both could agree on.

“...back to you Katie!” A crowd was gathering around a storefront, television screens turned on inside - granted they were older models, 1950s-esque, but 666 News worked on everything.

You hastily listened as you passed, Alastor having no desire to join a forming crowd - watching a television no less - to a breaking news podcast regarding another murder.

“Travis Miku, a former employee of V Tower Productions, was found burnt to a crisp this morning just outside the Entertainment District. His ashes have been returned to his wife…”

You chuckle.

It was his wife who gave you her soul for the hit. A minor deal, but Rome wasn’t built in a day and neither was your power as Overlord.

“On a lighter note, if anyone has any information on how to contact the Shadow, you can call the studio tip hotline. Asking for a friend…”

The buzz of the picture box is drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the Vees’ territory. Cars honked as they drove by, people on cell phones, clubs playing music for patrons who had still been there from the night before.

“Oh, please do enlighten me as to what has peaked your fancy now?” Alastor’s question brought you from your thoughts.

“I find the growing desire to unmask the Shadow to be fruitless.”

The Overlord stiffened next to you. “How ever could you mean?”

“It’s simple. Unmask the mask and what do you get? Just another mask. No one in Hell goes by their true name and the ones who do are now dead twice over. It doesn’t matter who this Shadow is, they still remain a threat regardless of their identity. It would be like learning your name was actually Alex instead of Alastor. You’re still the Radio Demon - nothing has changed.”

“Spoken by someone who sounds like they have nothing to lose?” He raised an eyebrow.

You sigh, your heart knotting itself in your chest. “I don’t…”

Everyone you knew was topside - Heaven - and wherever the Hell your father was. No one left on Earth to care for you now. Not even friends… Even if anyone were to find out who you truly are, they’d have no leverage. Well, you did care for Rosie, but she could take care of herself.

Alastor didn’t ask further, content on finishing the walk in silence. His fingers wrapped around yours were warm and oddly comforting. Actually, silences were oddly comfortable with the Radio Demon - considering his radio never truly left you alone.

You walked the rest of the way in a background of music. The demon changed the channel every so often to find something that he liked - you questioned whether he was picking up actual radio waves or just cycling through his memory like a CD multidisc drive.

Did he know all these songs or were some of them new to him? Did he only listen to music of the twenties and thirties or had his tastes grown in time? You wondered what he would think of jazz now - it had changed so much in the last hundred years.

You were a block away from your destination when the curiosity got the better of you.

“The radio thing you do,” you began awkwardly, “is that something you can turn off completely or…?”

The demon thought for a moment before you heard what you believed to be the sound of a needle gently lifting off a record. No music. No static. Something weighed heavily in his eyebrows, making them crinkle ever so slightly. He didn’t look at you when he answered, “It is uncomfortable.”

And that’s all he said before his fingers found the front door of “Bob’s Barber.” Alastor held the door, motioning for you to go first. What a gentleman.

Bob’s Barber was a stereotypical barbershop, complete with leather chairs and red and white twirled poles. Inside was a shark demon, dressed in a white apron, sweeping the floor of hair.

“It looks like acid rain today,” the barber muttered.

“Yes, well, it’s a good thing I always carry an umbrella*,” you answered.

The barber stopped his sweeping to smile at you. “Since when do you take the front door, Loca?”

You pounded his fist with your own, “And who’s this?” His smile dropped when he turned to Alastor, standing at your side, hands placed gently on the top of his microphone.

“A friend.”

Not a friend.

“And since when do you have friends?” The barber was not backing down, smelling blood in the water. Smart guy.

“Didn’t say he was my friend, Luis,” you smiled.

The shark demon turned to you, his large hand - fin? - ruffling the hair atop your head. You hated when he did that, but also loved it.

“Alastor,” the Radio Demon held out his claws for a handshake, “perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

The shark demon looked from his hand to his face and back to his hand again. “No.” You didn’t hold back your laugh. “But if Loca says you’re cool, then go on ahead.” The barber leaned behind the front desk and cranked a lever. A panel in the mirrored wall popped open - oh, the fun of speakeasies.

You felt Luis’ eyes bore into Alastor as you made your way through the wall and down a set of stairs. You were suddenly very grateful for the overprotective shark demon who had become something of a friend over the years.

“Mimzy did always love her theatrics!” Alastor’s tone was light, but you could tell he was irritated by the bruise in his ego. Narcissist.

It was early, the club technically wouldn’t be open for hours. The lights were on revealing the slick wetness of a newly polished wood floor that gave way to red carpeting. The bar was at the very back of the establishment, wooden and antique with a backdrop of rows and rows of bootleg liquor - the original stuff. Seems nostalgia wasn’t lost on the old guard of Hell. Moonshine was still made from white sugar, the bottles were random containers of glass wrapped in handwritten labels.

Booths lined the back of the establishment, their red velvet cleaned weekly. Closer towards the stage were tables, white clothes covering their tops, complete with candle centerpieces. It was a truly classic Prohibition Era establishment. Complete with a grand piano at the middle of it all. How Mimzy still managed to pull all this off after a hundred years you didn’t know. Your job was to show up, learn the music, and play.

“Seven years and it hasn’t changed a bit!” Alastor twirled his cane, having come to rest at his back as he surveyed the establishment.

“Alastor!?” A small, rather portly woman popped out from behind the stage curtain.

The Radio Demon’s lips curled as the woman ran over. “By the way, darling,” he leans into you, his lips brushing the crest of your ear. In a low whisper, his voice deep and raspy, the demon spoke, “I’m not a virgin.”

HOLY SHIT. Before your brain has time to process his words, Mimzy runs over.

“Alastor! I thought I heard your voice!” Dressed like a pink flapper, complete with feather in hair, the club owner practically tramples Alastor as she brings him into a… hug? You try not to let your jaw hit the floor. “Sweetie, Doll-face, So good to see you! How've you been? Good? Good.” She turns to the barkeep. “Rex, bust out the good rye, we’re celebratin’!”

God, she was the sweetest, loudest person you had ever met.

“Mimzy, dear, so good to see you,” Alastor’s radio was back to his jovial tune. Mimzy led him to a booth, completely ignoring your presence.

As the demon was whisked away, you felt his shadow twirl about your ankles before joining your own.

Oh, no, no, no. He doesn’t just get to say something like that and walk away. You spin and kick at the shadow, but nothing comes of it - well, nothing you wanted to happen. Instead, you manage to pop a blister.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, pulling off a heel. Red blood bubbled on the side of your foot.

Great. Just great. You were going to half to walk home, across Pentagram City, shoeless - again. Can’t fly home in daylight, too many eyes would be on you and you couldn’t risk anyone following you back to the Hotel. It would be too easy.

You limp a few steps to a table, but stop when Alastor’s shadow beats you to it. The thing grabs a napkin and brings it back to you. Hesitating, you turn to the booth where Mimzy and Alastor were now sitting, chatting away. The demon doesn’t even glance in your direction, completely entranced with whatever joke the two of them were laughing at.

The Radio Demon was a superb multitasker if he could tell jokes and watch you through his shadow at the same time. Or, was it not conscious control? Was it a mindless minion like his shadow imps that fixed the Hotel wall the first day you moved in? Or was his shadow a soul he owned, someone tricked into servitude for the rest of eternity?

“Thank you?” You accepted the token, using it to wipe up the blood from your foot. The shadow quickly zips away, melting into your own. You could still feel it’s presence, however, as you pulled off the other shoe to storm off into the back room.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Mimzy’s call stopped you in your tracks. “Yeah, I see ya’, come ova’ here!”

White knuckled, you rounded the corner to face the two of them, drinks being poured at their table - Alastor with his usual rye and Mimzy with some sort of gin and tonic.

“Don’t think ya’ can just sneak by me,” she chastises. “Ya’ skipped out on me last weekend. It ain’t gonna happen this week.”

Oh, the look on Alastor’s face right now. He was relishing your scolding. Asshole. Why was he even here anyway?

“Sheet music is on the piano. You’re fillin’ in for Roxie.”

“Two days!?” You protested. “You want a full headliner in two days!?”

“You gonna complain? That’s showbiz, kid!” She took a swig of her drink and hiccuped.

“Oh, go easy on the poor dear, Mimzy. She’s…” Alastor smiled, but you cut him off.

“I do not need your sympathy.” You stomped over to the black piano and swiped the music sheets atop it.

Mimzy looked between the two of you. “You let her talk to you like that?”

“He doesn’t let me do anything. I do whatever I want,” you answered for him and stormed out.

____________________________________________

“I’ll see you later, Luis,” you called to the shark demon as you stomped back onto the streets of the Entertainment District, very aware of the Radio Demon’s shadow following you.��

No way in Hell were you going to practice with an audience - and in front of Alastor no less. Ugh! You’d take the music and practice back at the Hotel, hidden away in the old music room where no one would bother you.

Jesus, you needed a cup of tea or a yoga session or something! You were wound so tightly after last night and this morning that you were grinding your teeth as you walked. Maybe you should make a stop at Rosie’s on the way back, bounce a few ideas off of her, figure out what she thinks you should do to solve your Radio Demon problem. Maybe…

“Need a ride?”

Fuck. As if you needed another problem right now!

A black limo slowed its pace to match yours. The window rolled down to reveal Vox in a newly pressed suit, a sly grin on his face. How the fuck did he find you?

You rolled your eyes and kept limping walking, a familiar ache building in your feet. Angel had done a great job in patching your blisters, and these new shoes helped a ton, but you had still walked all the way across Pentagram City this morning - perhaps you bit off more than you could chew. Regardless, you were not getting in that limo.

“Hey, where you goin’?” Vox awkwardly chuckled. The media demon practically fell out the door onto the ground, landing on all fours. He brushed himself off and sped walked until he caught up with you. Falling in line, he grabbed both his lapels, sauntering next to you. Lesser demons noted the Overlord’s presence, and quickly parted for you to pass.

“None of your business,” you snapped through gritted teeth, speeding up.

“Mind if I join you?” He flashed you a grin.

“I do, actually.”

God, this guy can’t take a hint.

“Oh, well okay then…” Vox’s smile faltered, he turned his attention to the path ahead, but he didn’t leave. “I guess I‘ll just head home then… Which just so happens to be in the same direction…” He continued alongside you another block before you put the breaks on.

“Vox, what do you want from me!?” You snapped, your hands curling into fists, crushing the sheet music you walked all the way here to get.

Vox took a step back, hurt flashing across his screen before it was replaced by his neutral grin. “I just wanted to know if you got my flowers?”

You could feel the artery pulsing in your temple in agitation. You took a breath, stifling the flames itching beneath your skin. “Yes, I got your blue Forget-Me-Knots, very clever.”

“I’m glad you liked them,” he beamed, his confidence newly restored.

God, this guy was like a golden retriever.

“Is that all?” You ground your teeth.

“No, actually.” He pulled another flower from his jacket pocket, offering it to you. “I was wondering if you would like to join me tonight?” The media demon painted his best grin on his face, his eyebrow cocked in question. He looked smug, his aura wafting off scents of rosemary - the scent of pride. He thought oh-so highly of himself.

Your eyes flit between him and the blue flower, a dumb look on your face. You blinked a few times, “What?”

“He’s asking you out!” Some random dude screamed from the growing crowd.

Oh God, there were cameras. Demons were filming. This wasn’t good. The blood instantly drained from your face. “You’re… what?”

The demon cleared his throat, preparing a rehearsed speech. “You’re the first demon in a long time to not take one look at me and flee. To look at me and not immediately idolize me. To look at me and not want something from me. In fact, you wanted nothing to do with me.” The media demon grabs your hand, his thumb brushing over your palm. Small sparks of static electricity dance their way up your arm. It felt different from Alastor’s static, Vox’s was more metallic and surface level whereas Alastor’s melted into your bones.

You felt the Radio Demon’s shadow stir beneath your feet twirling about itself in agitation. Did the shadow know you could feel it? Did it know you could sense its agitation as easily as you could smell the emotions wafting off of others?

“You’re absolutely breathtaking, but I’m sure you already knew that.” He chuckles. “There’s just something about you… I don’t even know you and yet I do not feel worthy of you.” Another chuckle, then a pause, a hesitation. “I would be truly and deeply honored if you would join me for…”

SCREECH.

“Hello, old pal,” Alastor was suddenly behind you, his radio pure static defeaning your ears. You jumped a few steps back, putting as much room between you and Vox as you could muster. You clutched your hand to your chest protectively, Vox’s electricity diminishing with each second his skin wasn’t on yours.

The Radio Demon took a step in front of you, blocking your view of the media demon. He twirled his cane before slamming it against the stone pavement, green sparks flying from where it made contact. His shadow found its place beneath his feet once more.

A pair of eyes and a mouth appeared in the shadow, as if Alastor’s own smile and irises were blocking the darkness. It shot a look of pure hatred at the media demon, its ears curling as if horns, its mouth widening in a razor sharp grin. His shadow looked absolutely lethal, but Alastor looked as cool as a cucumber, as if he just so happened across two friends during one of his outings.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Vox spat, returning the flower to his lapel. The demon’s left eye patterned red and white in anger.

“I happened to be in the neighborhood,” the demon sang, cleaning his monocle as if Vox wasn’t worth giving his full attention to.

Why was he… Oh, wait a minute. Now you get it. Alastor and Vox were fighting over you, not the lover’s triangle kind of fight, but the “Vox has something I want” kind of fight. You were a toy and they were two toddlers throwing a tantrum about who got to play with you.

That’s why Alastor offered you his arm as you strode across town. That’s why he played the gentleman as you passed V Tower. That’s why he clung to you, his hands on your fingers, as you walked through the Entertainment District. You were a toy, an object for the two of them to stake a claim in owning.

You weren’t a valuable toy to either of them - you felt the need to point out - this fight was about power, not about you at all. Figures…

“This has nothing to do with you, you Old Timey Prick!” Vox’s screen began to glitch, his voice cutting in and out with his screen. “So fuck off!”

Alastor took his time fixing his monocle back into place before responding. “Hmm, yes. I do believe we have overstayed our welcome here in the Entertainment District, darling. Care for a lift home?” He eyes you from over his shoulder, his elbow out in anticipation.

Vox looked to you, his face visibly saddening. God, it was pathetic. “She’s coming with me. I have already offered her a ride!” Vox motioned to the limo.

Jesus boys, just whip them out and measure already.

“Thestral is a guest at ~my~ Hotel and as such she is ~my~ responsibility. What would our dear Princess Morningstar say if I let her prattle about with the likes of you?” The demon’s eyes narrowed at Vox, a green aura emanating from his form.

You know, part of you really wanted to see them duke it out right here, right now, so they could finally see who the real winner was between the two of them, but another part of you wanted this nightmare to end.

Something in your line of sight caught your eye and gave you an idea. Spinning, you snuck off, deciding upon Option C.

____________________________________________

“You did fucking what!?” Angel practically choked on his drink.

“I left them there,” you sipped your Cabernet, letting the tannins dance across your tongue. “Right in the middle of the Entertainment District.”

Angel was laughing so hard he had whiskey coming out of his nose, “I would have paid so much fucking money to see the looks on their faces!”

“And Vox just let you take his ride?” Husk raised an eyebrow, busying himself with the glasses behind the bar.

“The Computer Monitor was too busy short circuiting to do anything about it,” you shrugged. And you offered the driver a lot of money. A sum the shark couldn’t refuse.

“Damn, kid. You got some balls,” Husk shook his head. You know he didn’t approve of the stunt. All it did was increase the magnification on the microscope you had now found yourself under.

You spun the half empty glass across the countertop, “Hey, where is Alastor anyway?”

Husk shrugged, cleaning another glass, “Haven’t seen him since you two left this morning.”

Good. You needed an evening without the overbearing Overlord and his snooping shadow following your every move. Tonight, you could relax.

“So you gonna take Vox up on his offer?” Angel wiggled his eyebrows at you.

You stopped your twirling and shot Angel a dumb look.

“What?” He threw his hands up in defense. “You can’t blame a guy for trying. Especially…” He pulls up Vitter on his phone and showed the both of you the video which had now reached over a million views. “After a declaration such as this.”

You watched as Vox repeated his mantra and then the video and audio filled with static - Alastor’s doing you assumed - before it cut out completely. Nice trick. You were going to have to figure out how to do that yourself.

Vox’s words were nice, but coming from an Overlord they just sounded pathetic. Like one of your victims begging for their life before you burnt them to a crisp.

“I have absolutely no interest,” you turned your nose up.

“Because of Smiles or…?” Angel winked.

Your face turned red. “B.. Because of nothing!” You stuttered. “I have no interest in dating or fucking of any kind.”

Angel did a double take. “We seriously need to talk about your priorities, toots.”

“Not everything is about sex, you horny motherfucker,” Husk snaps.

“Wrong,” Angel sang, holding his glass up for another drink. “Everything in the world is about sex, except for sex. Sex is about pleasure.”

Husk begrudgingly pours himself another, rolling his eyes.

You snort into your wine. “Did you just misquote Oscar Wilde?”

Angel blinks at you.

“The quote is ‘everything in the world is about sex, except for sex. Sex is about power,” you correct.

Angel blinks again, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think that’s right.”

The two of you laugh, Husk rolling his eyes.

“But you know what I mean?” Angel shrugged.

“Uhm,” you hid your mouth in your wine glass. “I don’t actually…”

Angel looked shocked. “Wait, don’t tell me, you’re a fucking virgin!?”

You finished off the glass royally humiliated.

“Oh, this is fucking priceless!” Angel hit the bar, wooing in excitement.

“Here we are!” Charlie kicks open the kitchen door, the bouquet of blue flowers in her hand. She rescued them from the trash can, fixed them up, and found a vase. “Like new!” The Princess places the vase before you, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

Angel, looked between you and the flowers and burst into a laugh so hard he fell off the stool.

“Oh my gosh! Are you alright?” Charlie helps him off the floor.

You turn to Husk and motion for the wine bottle. He gladly gives it to you, his energy matching yours.

Angel, wheezing, grabs a flower from the bouquet and tucks it behind your ear. You let him, shooting him a dumb look as he continues to laugh.

“Why?” You huff.

“Well,” Charlie bites her lip, still trying to process what was happening. “He went through so much trouble that I felt bad!”

Ah, yes, Ms. Bleeding Heart, you forgot.

There goes the rest of your evening…

____________________________________________

“What? You think I'm fucking lying?!” Blitz cowered behind his desk. “1923, Chicago. Esther Hadassah.” Blitz flipped over a photo and placed it before the Radio Demon. “1937, Lae, New Guinea. Hannah Samuel.” Another photo. “1947, Washington, D.C. Miriam Amren.” Another. “1969, back in Chicago. Phoebe Corinth.” Another. “The last one we have is from 1974, London. Mary Beth Lazarus.”

Five different photos; five different points in time; five different names, but one woman. All of the women photographed - although, different hair styles and clothing - looked exactly like YOU.

“This bitch has strong genes!” Blitz awkwardly laughed. “But we haven’t been able to find anything past 1974, yet.”

Alastor picked up one of the photographs of you in 1947. Your hair was curled into a cute little bob with waves more iconic of the 1930s than the late 40s. You had a large sun hat tipped slightly askew atop your head and a boa wrapped around your neck, which complimented your yellow dress beautifully. Your hair was blonde then, not dyed to silver like it was now, your skin was pink and full of life - you had a human disguise, but your eyes still shined their vibrant gold. You were sitting at a coffee shop reading a newspaper, a young lady sitting next to you, reading over your shoulder, her face hidden behind your hat.

The hat covered part of your face as well, but he would know those red lips anywhere.

The demon covered his face with his hand and laughed, an hysteric laugh. “Oooooh, someone’s keeeeeeeping secreeeeeeets.” He sang, a look of pure mania sprawling across his face as the music on his radio fizzled out to static.

“I’m sorry?” Blitz was thoroughly confused, terror growing in his eyes at the sudden darkening of the room.

You’ve been dead a lot longer than six years… He laughed again, the room turning green. Oh, Alastor was rightfully irritated after that little stunt you pulled today in the Entertainment District, but now? Now he was pissed.

In a spark of green flame, the demon slowly burned the photo of you to ash…

Time to go hunting.

____________________________________________

“Goodnight, guys!” You call over your shoulder, your thoughts muddled and the ache in your feet numbed by the wine.

You decided you needed a night off from babysitting the Vees. Not like they actually did anything anyway. You owed Mimzy a full headliner in a few nights and were going to need all your energy to get up early to practice before Charlie’s onslaught of trust exercises. How trust falls and circle activities were supposed to get you to Heaven’s door, you didn’t know, but hey, you signed up for this.

So, a hot shower, and a night of jazz awaited you. Or, whatever was playing on the radio, which was almost always jazz. Was that Alastor’s doing or…?

CREAK!

You spin, static zipping down your spine, but Alastor isn’t there. No one is there. Not even the shadows moved.

SNAP!

Another sound, from the other end of the hallway this time. Was it getting darker in here… and green?

AHHH! A scream.

You spin again, and suddenly, you’re not in the hallway anymore. You’re… in a swamp?

Crickets chirped in the night as the humidity licked your skin. Gigantic trees cascaded above you and around you, vegetation weeping from its branches as if the trees themselves were melting from the heat. The world was a mixture of browns and greens as the aroma of wildflowers danced across your senses. And stars… Through the canopy you swore you saw stars twinkling in the night.

You hadn’t seen stars in years.

In another situation, it would have been beautiful, but then the stars winked out, the world diving into a hue of green, the wind carrying the threat of radio static.

Alastor’s cackles echoed around you, bouncing off the trunks, making it hard to tell exactly where the demon was.

“This isn’t real,” you mumbled, the sweat sticking to your skin. “This isn’t real.”

It was a dream - a nightmare - it had to be. Last time the demon had you trapped you woke up in bed. Now, you were passed out drunk in your room, having a nightmare. You had to be.

A flock of birds takes off behind you, causing you to jump. Where the fuck had Alastor taken you!? This wasn’t Earth - although it looked a whole Hell of a lot like it. A pocket dimension?

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! You spun in circles, eyeing the treeline. If he was going to attack, he would have done it already. That or he’s toying with you. Alastor does like his theatrics.

You debated grabbing a stick and stabbing yourself; pain to wake you up, right? Wrong. That didn’t work last time. Alastor slammed you against the wall in the last dream and then nearly choked you to death - if that wasn’t enough to wake you…

“Oh, don’t look so scared.” Alastor cooed from the darkness. “I just wanted to have a little chat.” The demon materializes from the shadows before you, his smile twisted. You had seen Alastor’s barely contained anger before - in the way he held his shoulders, the tight curl of his lips when he smiled. This Alastor was barely keeping himself together. His eyes continuously flipped from irises to dials, a thread of green stitched across his smile, the antlers atop his head held a few extra prongs on either side. He could barely keep his demonic form contained.

The demon sings, his hands coming to rest atop the microphone before him. “What’s a chat between friends?”

You readied yourself. “Is that what we are now?” You were stalling. You needed to stall, to think of some way out of this. Think. Think! Think!

“I don’t know, darling,” he purred, “you tell me.” His static melted into your bones.

“I’m dreaming. This is a dream.” There, a break in the trees, a glow of artificial light. That had to be something!

Alastor’s eyes sparkled in amusement. “Is it?”

You take a step towards what you hope is salvation, but the demon melts into shadow and appears behind you. He wraps his arms around your body, his one hand on your throat, the other around your waist. “Mr. Alastor!” Keep up the façade, if this wasn’t a dream you couldn’t risk him finding out who you are. “This is hardly appropriate!”

Alastor had every intention of confronting you tonight. He had every intention of demanding to know why you were here, at ~his~ Hotel. He wanted to know just how much power you had. You should have more souls than Carmilla herself at this point in time. You should be an Overlord rivaling that of Zestial. Yet you spent your undead years flitting back and forth between here and Earth? He wanted to know why. He wanted to know how.

The I.M.P. had only recently uncovered such power, but there were others in Hell - most notably the Succubi - who could travel back and forth between the realms. He wanted to know how you had uncovered such power for yourself, being a Human Sinner and all.

Yet, his eyes landed on the blue flower Angel had put in your hair, and now he couldn’t think straight. He couldn’t think about anything other than Vox and how he stood in the streets of the Entertainment District mere hours ago, holding your hand, trying to claim you for himself.

He wanted your soul that very first day you stepped into the Hotel. He didn’t know why, he just knew he had to have you. He had to possess you. You had to be his.

That night in the library when he probed you for your power, he couldn’t stop looking at your neck and the blood thrumming through it. How lovely you would look with a collar wrapped around your throat. How lovely you would look at the other end of a chain. Yet, his mind kept returning to thoughts of your blood. He had licked his lips in anticipation. He didn’t just want to own you, he wanted to taste you.

Thankfully, you had caught on to his little game and shoved him away. He didn’t know what he would of done had you not. Sure, he was a Cannibal in this life and the one before it, but he never had the urge to devour before. He ate because he liked the power it gave him, not because of the power beheld by his victims. But you? Oh, you smelled divine and he knew you would taste delicious.

So when he saw you hand in hand with Vox, well… He couldn’t have that now, could he? And then you rode off, disappearing and leaving him and Vox absolutely flabbergasted. You had shown him up. He couldn’t have you showing him up.

It made him look weak.

You squirmed in his arms, trying to break free. He clamped down around you harder. With his one hand around your waist, the other went to the flower in your hair. Holding it between his fingers, he summoned his green Hellfire and burnt it to a crisp.

And then you had the audacity to laugh at him, “Jealous your little boyfriend is moving on?”

Alastor growled, threatening to bite your head off. Then, something unexpected happened, he felt you suck in a shaky breath. Not because you were afraid - never because you were afraid - but because his growl had turned you on, and your ass was now perfectly aligned with his crotch.

His cock twitched to life in his pants at the thought, and you both froze.

Alastor was mortified. This has never happened before. He’s rarely had this ever happen in front of someone else, let alone because of someone else. The demon didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It had caught him more off guard than it had you. He didn’t…

You ground your ass into his hips.

The demon’s breath hitched, his lips pressing into your ear. You rolled your hips again, and the wave of pleasure it sent through him had his dick hardening. The demon instinctively grabbed onto your hips, not to stop you, but to pull you closer, to give you leverage as you rolled again.

His breath was shaky in your ear, his body leaning into you. You brought your hands up and went for his hair, threading your fingers behind his head for leverage.

Something buzzed between the two of you, almost as if Alastor's magic was instinctively reacting to your body. His static reached out to caress your form, making its way up your thighs, over your hips, and curling around your breasts.

A small gasp escaped your lips that had Alastor's blood singing.

On the next roll, the demon moved with you, running his lengthening member up your ass as your hips moved down.

“Fu.. Fuck,” he breathed into your ear, a wave of pleasure running through his body that had him practically bucking at the knees.

Your head fell back against his chest, your face flush with desire.

Shit, were you enjoying this as much as he was?

The demon spun you around, reaching out to cup your cheeks...

… and you side-kicked him square in the chest, sending him flying backward onto the swampy ground. Then you ran. Zipping past trees, branches smacking you in the face, you ran desperately for that source of light.

You didn’t dare summon any of your magic to get away. If Alastor didn’t already know you were the Shadow, this wasn’t the time to have him figure it out.

You practically fell face-first onto a wooden floor, having entered a room through a hole in the wall. Yes, definitely a pocket dimension.

Not slowing to look around, you slammed through the door and landed in the hallway of the Hotel, kicking the wood shut behind you.

Catching your breath, you sat and waited, waiting for the demon to barrel out after you. As you sat there and waited for Alastor to come and kill you, the scent of warm vanilla, orange, and mint hit your nose - coming from you.

Jesus, you smelled like a turned on victim.

The world behind the door remained silent. Not even the crickets of the swamp could be heard.

“What in the fuck just happened?” Angel stood shell-shocked behind you. He wore a set of pink pajamas, Fat Nuggets tucked sleepily under his arms. The demon looked between you and the door: Alastor’s door.

He gave you a knowing smile, “Did you hate fuck him?”

Shit. Not a dream.

"Now kiss" *side kicks you and runs* "I said 'kiss' not 'kick!"

*Yes, that was a Captain America reference! Thought it would be funny to have that as the code for the speakeasy lol

-> Chapter Seven

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

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

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff

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zuhaism · 1 year

Text

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ FIMLOGS ?! ┊ lesserafim ⁺

[ navigation | corso ]

y/n being in EVERYONES fimlogs before making her own.

chaewon was already eating dessert as her lunch in lesserafims kitchen, doing her own mukkbang. she was lost in thought when she said “it would be really funny if yunjin came out right now” she was pointing at the door behind her in the camera frame. “please come out now!” and the door opened.

her eyes widened and turned around to be met with you. her face was still in shock, frozen looking at you with messy hair. you looked like you had just woken up from a 10 minute power nap that went on for 2 hours. wearing an oversized sized graphic tyler the creator t-shirt with baggy pants, you looked at her confused while your eyes tried to get used to the bright light. “what are you looking at” scratching your stomach lifting up your shirt a little. chaewon had to blur out your clavin klein underwear that was peaking from your pants.

[ y/n’s abs 😱 ]

she turned back around to the camera “wah! the timing was perfect but someone else came out.” she said laughing and clapping at the camera. you were scratching your head when you finally caught on to the situation. “oh were you calling for yunjin?” you moved to stand beside her. she turned to you and nodded.

“ahh is this fim-log?” you asked bending down beside her to be in the frame

[ hello y/nnie 👋 were you sleeping with yunjin? Yes ]

“hi fearnots i just woke up” you sent a blowing kiss to the camera.

[ stinky breathe 😍 ]

you scanned the table before you seeing all the wrappings of chaewon’s finished food. “unnie, do you want me to cook for you?” you questioned worried that she wont have enough energy to workout later.

[ our y/nnie is so kind ]

“no need this is just a light snack before going to the gym.” she said bending forward, moving closer towards the camera so her face is beside yours.

the video cuts to her taking of her makeup in her room. you were beside her on the floor scrolling through your phone. “ah i dont usually get pimples but it always comes when i have a shoot.” she said while rubbing moisturiser on her face.

you put your phone down and turned to her. “can i do it?” she turned to you with her syrum in her hands. “sure” she was now facing you, sitting cross-legged between your stretched out legs. you pulled her closer by the legs so that her thighs are on yours. you added light drops of her skin care on her face. “yah what are you doing that’s so little.” she said with her eyes closed, head tilted upwards.

you squeezed the pipette harder in retaliation and A LOT came out. “yah yah it’s dripping down!” she started moving while you giggled putting the pipette down and tapping her face softly. “yah my face is wet!” she said loudly with her eyes tightly closed. you laughed harder than you already were. “sorry! sorry!”

you got up to grab some tissues and wiped off the syrum from the floor and threw it away. “haa she’s so.. haish” she didn’t get to finish her sentence because she was too focused dabbing white stuff on her face. you sat beside her watching her do it. giving her puppy eyes because you wouldn’t let her do it

[ our puppy y/n ]

when she finally noticed you in the camera she sighed and turned to you. your eyes lit up and a there was a grin on your face. you pulled her by her legs closer to you. as you did that she let out a squeal. you started dabbing her face. you patted her face softly when you were done and sighed “ah.. our chaewon so pretty”

she was about to punch you before the clip got cut off to her at the gym.

“hi everyone! now y/n is with us! im currently in the vocal room and y/n was helping me. say hi” she tapped your hand. you put down your phone and was looking at the camera. the frame fitted you both.

“y/n suggested a ‘whats in my bag’ so now im going to do it.” you nodded while making faces at the camera. “you think you’re soo cute.” eunchae said looking at you with a disgusted face. you rolled your eyes and her and went back to your phone.

while she was explaining her stuff one by one “heart velcro” she ripped the heart apart and smacked it onto your head. your head moved back as she pressed the hearts onto your head. you looked at her confusedly. she was already grinning at you “ahaha! you look so cute!” she grabbed the camera and brought it closer to you.

[ y/nnie’s full of love ]

your eyebrows were furrowed as you looked into the camera. she giggled as she zoomed into your face. you rolled your eyes and continued scrolling through your phone. eunchae went back to explaining.

the hearts stayed on your head until she finished explaining. “that’s it. ill be going back to practicing because its my turn to record in 5 minutes.” you put your phone down and started singing. “Nae hyeolgwan soge nalttwineun new wave” while making movements at the camera.

“no!!” she pushed you back standing up from her seat to cover you from the camera. “stop ! stop !” she said loudly trying to overlap your singing so you couldnt be heard. then it got cut off

[ i had nothing to worry about. y/n jus made me scared 🙄 ]

#girl group imagines #lesserafim #chaewon imagines #eunchae imagines #hong eunchae #lesserafim imagines #lesserafim scenarios #kim chaewon #kim chaewon x reader #miyawaki sakura #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim 6th!member #chaewon x reader #chaewon scenarios #eunchae scenarios #eunchae reactions #nakamura kazuha #huh yunjin #corso

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hollewdz · 3 months

Text

Quinn and Jaz - Ch 1

word count: ~2.1k

_______________________

Quinn sometimes wondered if she was cursed.

Not with a big, life-altering curse; she didn’t believe she was important enough for one of those. She wondered if someone, somewhere, decided she was worth fucking with, and decided, every day, to do little things to make her life just that much harder. Right now, she was wondering if this mystery-being decided to make her bus late.

Pacing a circle into the snow at the bus stop, a flash of ice bit at Quinn’s heel. Looking down, she saw a pathetic old winter boot, ripped at the seam and gulping in muddy ice slush.

“Because the bus being late just wasn’t fun enough, huh?” she griped, trying and failing to shake the ice from her boot. She hated this. Hated these long, exhausting days of classes and overtime shifts, which would have been bearable, if the damn bus was even half as efficient as she was.

A long, forced sigh shot into the air in a dramatic cloud. Instead of standing around for 20 minutes in the cold for a slimy bus, she could walk for 15 minutes back to her apartment. It would suck, but at least she could choose the suckiness she had to deal with. Briskly trudging her way through the slush and muck on the cracked sidewalks home, chunky snowflakes began drifting through the air around her. Quinn wanted to cry, but refused to permit herself the catharsis. She’d been through so much worse; and heavy college textbooks, a long shift at Shelly’s, a late bus, a broken shoe and walking in the snow was nothing compared to that.

This isn’t for forever, Quinn’s calming mantra surfaced in her mind. It’s not even for the next 20 minutes. Get home and you can take a steaming hot shower and have some soup.

Slowing to a stop at a crosswalk, Quinn nearly tripped on a wet heap of something piled right next to the crosswalk button. What the hell? After mashing the button a few times, she used her good boot to shove some of the snow away. A pile of soaking wet clothes, some sneakers and an expensive-looking bag stared back glumly at her.

Who would strip in this weather? Crouching down to balance sitting on her ankles, she unzipped the bag and rummaged through it. Tugging out a heavy metal clip wallet, tapped out the cards to see that this bag -and presumably outfit- belonged to…

“...Jasper Ross” she breathed absent-mindedly. Why does that sound familiar? Quinn was hardly a socialite, and she only knew the names of the people she had to deal with for projects and such. There was a sudden stirring from the pile of clothes. With a yelp reminiscent of a scared chihuahua, Quinn splashed clumsily from her half-perch-half-crouch into a slush of muddy ice. Oh God, a rat?? Not even caring that her backside was now soaking wet, Quinn tried and failed to push herself away from the nest of laundry, her old worn boots refusing to grip the ice. Then, she heard the most peculiar noise that gave her pause- an almost unhearable, muffled shout came from within the pile of clothes. “What the fuck?! Where am I?”

Quinn’s eyes grew wide as she saw a… a… tiny guy. There was a tiny guy, emerging from the pile in front of her. Frozen in place, Quinn couldn’t tear her eyes away, she needed to download every bit of information about this new phenomena in front of her.

He looked proportionate, and fit. Even, golden-brown skin with a mop of dark brown hair. He seemed to be assessing his surroundings, hands exploring the fabric around him. He could have been muttering something, too, but Quinn wasn’t close enough to hear. Miniscule eyes finally swiveled towards Quinn, and for a moment Quinn thought he looked quite a lot like an action figure with how still he went. His face slowly traced from her boots to finally meet her bewildered gaze.

A long silence yawned between the two- Quinn had no idea how to approach this situation. Usually she’d blame her awkward personality, but she figured most people would be struggling for words right about now. Thankfully, she didn’t need to worry about what to say.

“Oh hell no,” the man said with an exasperated groan. He began to rub his eyes vigorously. Quinn blinked. “Excuse me?” “Hey, lady, um, I think my vision is fucked. You look absolutely massive,” the man stated plainly. He righted himself and offered another comment, “And not in, like, a fat way. It’s like, a sky-scraper, ‘massive’ way. You think you could call an ambulance for me? That bitch from last night probably drugged me.” She ignored anything that could have been implied. Quinn’s throat had gone dry from the cold, but she managed to force out a response.

“Your vision has nothing to do with it. You’re, like, a borrower, dude,” Quinn half laughed. She had no clue how to react to this. The laughter built into a chuckle, then a full-blown fit. “W-what the fuck!” She managed to say between laughs of disbelief. She slapped her gloved hands firmly clasped over her mouth, failing to quell her convulsive laughter. She felt a heat begin to rise in her face, and darted her eyes along the street, head on a swivel. Thank god there’s no people around. “Lady, you’re a total psycho,” the diminutive man offered, going back to scrubbing his eyes.

A lazy snowflake slowly drifted down and planted atop the man’s head. Quinn steadied her breathing, watching him reach up and break a bit of the snowflake off in a crystal shard and then melt in his doll-sized hand.

“Hm.” He started shivering then, enough for Quinn to notice. In fact, her own jeans had been soaking in ice-water since she slipped, and it was becoming very clear she needed to take control of the situation before things got worse.

Drawing in a deep breath and loosing a cloud of fog into the chilled air, Quinn composed herself as well as she could manage. Chill out, he’s just…some guy. A very, very small guy, but still, she thought. She closed her eyes and breathed, then looked back to the doll-sized man. “Are you Jasper Ross?” she asked, holding up his wallet and sliding out his ID for him to see.

“First of all, looking through other peoples’ things is pretty invasive- but yes, that’s me. Secondly,” he pointed at her, “no one calls me ‘Jasper’. Ew. It’s Jaz.” He ran his hands over the folded cloth in front of him to dry his hands, and started rubbing his arms sharply. “Seriously, it’s too fucking cold out.”

Quinn started feeling a bit bad for Jasper- or, Jaz, despite him being all sorts of rude. He was the size of a hamster, of course the cold would be biting at him hard. “Do you have any place I could take you to-”

“No,” Jaz shot, slumping into a grumble. “No I don’t.”

“For real?” Quinn furrowed her brow. “I would offer to take you to, like, the police, but I don’t think you’d like it there, either.”

“So you’re abducting me?”

“I’ll take you to the police station if you want.”

Jaz thought for a moment. “Yeah, I’d rather not be a lab rat. Do you have a place?”

“Wuh- me?” Quinn sat back again, but this time in shock at how forward he was being. A gust of icy wind made her shudder, and the cold concrete was making her legs go numb. “I-I mean, I do have a place, but-”

“Perfect, take me there.”

“I’m not ready for, uh, company-”

“Lady, I’m about to freeze to death, that doesn’t matter.”

Quinn pursed her lips, holding her breath. He does look like he’s in the early stages of popsicle… And, realistically, what’s the worst that can happen? Pinching the crease between her brows and sighing, she shifted and replaced the wallet in the bookbag. “Fine. Just let me plan out how to carry everything, alright?”

“Roger that, Goliath,” Jaz shot back, gathering fabric to cloak himself, making him look even smaller than before. “What is your name, anyway, lady?”

Quinn was unamused by Jaz’s nickname. “What a skill, you guessed it right on the very first try. People usually say I look more like a Gulliver, though.” She finished packing up Jaz’s bag and swung it over her vacant shoulder. How should I tackle the clothes?

“I think you look like a perfect Goliath. Same stature, and all,” Jaz quipped.

“Quinn. Is my, uh, name,” she offered lamely, rolling her eyes. “So. I assume you’re naked. And you’re standing in the middle of the clothes. I dunno what to do, champ.”

“You can’t just grab everything all at once?”

She gave a huff, “All of that shit is like 20 pounds, it’s soaked. Maybe I can shove it in your bag? I don’t want to ruin anything-”

“Just do that, then, I can get a new bag.”

Quinn’s eyes went wide at how wasteful of a thought that was, even if he could have been joking. She was slightly angry on behalf of the bag. “Whatever, it’s your shit. You want to go in the bag too?”

“You literally just said it’s freezing and soaked.”

“Well then I guess you’re walking,” Quinn huffed, growing tired of his less-than-pleasant attitude.

“Can’t you just…” Jaz trailed off, eyeing her gloved hands. He lingered there, and… gulped? Quinn couldn’t really tell. “What if you let me have your glove?”

“You’re naked.”

“And freezing.”

Quinn looked down at her left hand for a long, disgusted moment. The gloves were the only things she had that were actually high quality- a gift from her younger brother. Her eyes scrunched tight at the thought of them being treated the same way this guy treated his bag. She summoned her courage, “You have to be clean. If you get them dirty you own me new ones.”

“God, is that not obvious? Anyway hurry it up, this isn’t funny anymore. It’s getting actually painful to be this cold.”

Quinn was surprised by how quickly he offered to pay for the gloves, and would have been suspicious he was lying if not for how disinterested he seemed by it. She pushed a finger under the cuff of her left glove, got it halfway up her hand, then pinched and tugged the glove off from her middle finger. She quickly went to lay it down next to Jaz, but stuttered when she saw how her hands truly dwarfed him.

Quinn had never felt big, compared to anything before. Even though she was taller than average, her nature was to minimize herself; withdraw until no one could tell she took up any space at all. So much of her life was dedicated to remaining unseen, that she might have convinced herself that she didn’t even exist.

Maybe that was why she grew queasy at seeing the truly baffling difference in size between them, why she felt more than ever that she had to shrink smaller than this finger-sized man before her. She basically lost sight of him behind her hand, as if there wasn’t a tiny person in the heap of clothing at all.

She ripped her hands back from the glove as if it had burned her, “Whatever, don’t worry about the glove. Just get in and yell when you’re good to go.” She slouched and waited for him to call out, shrugging his bag back to the ground and unzipping it. She heard a muffled Okay let’s get a move on, and she pinched the opening of the glove to hover it above the clothes, then used her free hand to quickly and clumsily shove the sopping outfit into his really nice bag.

She was able to ignore that queasy feeling with Jaz out of sight, thankfully. She tried to be as careful as she could standing up, figuring the best way to keep her gloves clean was to give Jaz a steady ride so he wouldn’t blow chunks, and she slipped the glove gingerly into one of her winter coat’s inner pockets. Still, the thought of Jaz spilling his guts didn’t stop her from basically jogging home- the promise of soup had never been so desirable.

__________ Chapter 2

This drawing is from like, 2020 and is definitely more of a concept image than 100% accurate X] I'll have to redraw it! I've actually been sitting on this story for so long, and I've gone back and forth about whether or not I wanted to do a comic or not, I just decided "fuck it write the damn thing and go from there" so here we are! :3

#Quinn and Jaz #My writing #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #macro/micro #giant #g/t community #gt #giantess #minors dni

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