#i keep feeling bad that i want to just write angel in various situations but like..

[narcolini]

ending the night

angel reyes x gn!reader, comfort/fluff, 1982 words

warnings for descriptions of vomiting

for day 12 of whumpril, using the alternate prompt: foodpoisoning 

a/n: honestly, this is whump in the same way dessert pizza is pizza... sweet but not really deserving of the name LMAO anyway. when in doubt write angel having a hard time, am i right ? 

tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas​ 

You’re sitting on the edge of Angel’s tub, finishing up a final text to his brother, from his phone, not yours, while Angel empties his stomach into the toilet again. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s puked now, but it’s enough times to know that your evening is well and truly over. He had barely made it from the taxi to the house when you got here, and has said almost nothing since you’d found him in the bathroom, knees to the linoleum.

Not that you mind. Not that you expect anything from him at all, in this state. If anything, you feel bad for being so helpless. And for not being sick yourself, weirdly, but that’s just how the straws were pulled. Beyond the water you’ve left for him on the counter, and the company, there’s nothing else you can do. You’ve already opened the window behind, invited cool air to draw in and, more importantly, the sharp smell of vomit to draw out. Texting EZ as if you were him, had been your most recent idea; a last ditch attempt to be productive and to improve the already dire circumstances.

‘Well,’ you announce, clicking Angel’s phone shut, ‘EZ says he can swing by the restaurant and get your bike.’ You watch him nod, head bouncing between in the hole of the toilet seat. ‘And I told him it was me that got sick, so he can’t clown you about it later.’

He laughs, all breath, and it echoes around the porcelain. ‘Thanks.’

You smile. He can’t say that you don’t look out for him, even this early into things. Five, six, dates down—formal ones, anyway—and you’ve skipped right to the in sickness part. Which you’re doing pretty well at, all things considered.

‘I can,’ he starts, pausing to swallow in-between, ‘pay you back. For the Uber.’

You shake your head. ‘Forget it. You got the bill.’ And he’s paying twice for that too, with money and stomach lining. ‘You think it was the chicken?’

He sighs, daring to look back at you briefly, forearms on the seat. ‘No idea. Shit tastes like battery acid now.’

You wince. ‘I wish I could make it stop for you.’ You wish you could go back in time and make him choose the beef dish that you had, avoid all of this mess, and finish the drinks you’d had to abandon at the bar. ‘You want me to pass you the water?’

He shakes his head before spitting into the bowl, clearing his mouth of the last bout of sickness. You’re both waiting, really, to see if it will come again. Angel breathing slowly, audibly, catching his breath over the edge of the seat. You, staring at his shoulders like they might give you any warning of it.

The time between is getting longer, you think. A sign that the worst is done with. If he can make it twenty minutes, fifteen even, and keep down the water he drinks, then you can both relax.

‘Fuck,’ he pants, wiping his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. He slumps away from the toilet, to sit on the floor instead with his back to the tub. Arm side by side with your shin. ‘I never looked this good, right?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ you nod, ‘big time. I’m practically tearing my clothes off right now.’

He groans, dropping his head to put it against your knee. ‘Can’t believe you stuck around to watch me hurl, dulce.’

‘I stuck around,’ you emphasise, ‘to help.’ You smile, glad he can’t see from where he is, because he’s too vulnerable right now, and he might think that you’re laughing at him. ‘I’m actively trying not to watch.’

He exhales, pushing it through his lips. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Was supposed to a good fucking night, y’know, fancy restaurant and shit, drinks.’  

‘It’s not your fault.’ You pat his head, smoothing your thumb over the shell of his ear. ‘We should probably tell the restaurant, though, because it’s definitely their fault.’

And we deserve a refund, you think, but you don’t say it, because he’ll take that to mean that you didn’t enjoy yourself at all. Right now, he would probably take you standing up to stretch as a cue that you’re gonna leave, sick of him already.

‘You think you’re done?’ you ask, bending over your lap to find his gaze.

He sits upright to help you, then nods, and his eyes flick to your lips momentarily. It’s rare that you’d be so close to one another, and able to resist a kiss, but right now’s an exception. You smile, knowing that he’s thinking it too, seeing the yeah, I get it, in his returning look.

‘Give me a minute,’ he says. ‘Gotta, y’know, make myself smell less like puke.’

‘Course.’ You opt for a kiss to his damp forehead before standing, as close to his mouth as you’ll chance for now.

You decide to wait for him in his room, legs hanging over the end of his bed as the shower cranks to life. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, which isn’t the introduction you had expected, a temporary waiting room while he washed the sick from his beard, but it’s a welcome expansion to your understanding of his home. You’ve been to his place before, but never made it past the couch. He has a preference for it, you think, at least in his own place. He’s had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with your bedroom, ending the night there the last few times that you’ve met up.

It’s not awkward, being in here, but it is new. Foreign like a hotel room. Granted, a hotel room that someone’s already living in, from the full laundry basket, the used glasses on the side table. The unmade bed you’re perched on.  

It doesn’t seem like he was expecting you to be in here today, either. You should ask him about that. Is your place nicer, or is he just too lazy to clean, and simultaneously too proud to let you see his room as it is? You don’t think you’d mind either answer. It’s nice, really. Clean enough, and comfortable in a way that stops you from feeling shy. If you weren’t waiting for the tell-tale signs of more illness, you’d probably lie back, uninvited, and crawl under the covers like it was your bed already.

After a few minutes, the bathroom door cracks open, steam pouring out of it. He must’ve had the quickest shower he could manage, only long enough to douse the sweat and stench off him, and then out again, dressed in just the jeans from before.

He looks exhausted, so tired and disposed of energy, that you can’t even enjoy the sight of him. His bare chest, the tattoos striking across it. You just about fight the urge to throw your arms out and beckon him forward with grabbing, baby hands, because, oh, he looks so helpless, it hurts.

‘Don’t think I got any shit left in me to throw up,’ he grumbles, dragging himself forward.

‘That’s good.’ You throw him a sympathetic smile. ‘Means you’re over the worst of it.’

He makes a sour face, hand lifting to rub over his stomach. ‘Doesn’t feel like it.’

‘You should probably rest then.’

You didn’t think he could look any more sorry for himself, but that does it, that tugs it out of him. His brows sink even further as he nods, unable to argue that he doesn’t need it, but unable to seem keen on it either.

‘Sorry,’ he says, for the tenth time, ‘I ruined our night.’

You roll your eyes quickly. ‘Who says it’s ruined? We’ve got…’ You find the alarm clock, red numbers glowing in the dim room. ‘At least, what, twelve hours before I gotta leave for work?’

And that’s what the extra sulking was for; he really thought you were gonna dip and leave him here to recover alone. He doesn’t realise that if he wasn’t worth looking after, you would’ve left him at the bar, blowing chunks in the stall.

‘You’re staying?’ he asks

‘You’re sick as a dog, Angel. It’d be actual, like, neglect if I left you right now.’

He sighs, finally letting himself collapse on the bed behind you. When you turn, he’s got his eyes squeezed shut, suffering from the bouncing mattress beneath—a misjudgement on his part. ‘If I wasn’t dying right now,’ he says, ‘I’d kiss you so damn hard.’

You laugh, crawling up the length to be beside him and slouch against the headboard. ‘And give me whatever you have? No thanks.’ You pull the cover free from under you, holding it open as you invite him in. ‘Come on,’ you say, ‘get comfy, chulo.’

He steals a look, opening just one of his eyes to see what you’re offering, before rolling into you, his head on your stomach, his arm threading beneath you and the mattress. You set the quilt down again, pulling it up until it’s covering your legs and his shoulders. Then your hand goes to his hair, natural like you do it nightly, rubbing circles around the crown of his head.

‘Hopefully that’s the last of it,’ you tell him.

He hums, speaking into the cotton of your shirt. ‘If I puke on you right now, I’ll kill myself.’

You laugh, bouncing his head with the force and surprise of it.

‘I’m dead serious, dulce, there’s no coming back from that shit. You’ll dump me before I’m even your boyfriend.’

You scoff, grinning still. ‘Not true,’ you argue. ‘But I would use it against you for the rest of time. Hey Angel,’ you tease, ‘remember when you spewed chicken teriyaki all over me?’

He laughs, but it weans off into a groan, his fingers tightening over your hip. ‘Stop talking,’ he pleads, ‘I can still taste that shit.’

And as funny as it is, you really don’t want to smell, or see, or feel, any more fucking vomit, so you oblige. It falls silent and you let it, fingers twirling in his hair still, disrupting the hold of his gel. He breaths evenly over your stomach, pooling warmth on the parts of your skin that the shirt fails to cover.

After a moment, you remember what he’d said afterwards, about breaking it off with him before you’ve officially gotten together. You smile into the question before you’ve even asked, ‘Do you want to be my boyfriend, Angel?’

He takes a moment to answer, and when he does, he’s mumbling it, talking around the ends of a yawn. 'We really gonna do this now?’

‘Yeah, sorry. Bad timing.’ But you’re smiling still, smirking even. Confident of the answer despite his protest. ‘I wouldn’t mind it, though. Just while we’re on the topic.’

The reply you expect doesn’t come, he doesn’t say anything at all. You try to look at him, but can’t bend far enough, not with his head resting as it is. You can just about see the thick black of his lashes, flicking out from closed eyes.

‘Angel?’

He groans, readjusting until he’s lay on your chest, with his arms wrapped tight around your middle. ‘Your boyfriend is very sleepy,’ he says, waking up just long enough to engage and send your heart-rate soaring. ‘Keep doing that shit with my hair,’ he mutters, adding a, ‘please,’ after a moments reflection.

You laugh, light and soft over the top of his head. ‘Yes, boss.’ You thread your fingers in again, as he asked you to, and trail them across his scalp. ‘I think I like you when you’re sick,’ you muse, basically whispering it now. ‘You’re way cuter.’

‘Mhmm,’ he hums, and that’s the last you get from him. He’s asleep before he can deny it.

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes fanfic #mayans mc fanfic #whumpril2023 #i keep feeling bad that i want to just write angel in various situations but like.. #oh well lol #he is possessing my spirit and thats ok

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • VII

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, violence, guns, car crash

Authors note: Chapter Seven - Redwine: eeeeeee, sorry this one isn't as long as most of them! It's very action packed and I felt like it was already a lot to digest tbh lol. I do hope you enjoy tho! Song is Redwine by unprocesses (10/10 recommend listening, especially at the end hehe) (I stayed up till 2am writing this which is very bad because I really should sleep but yolo!)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerant @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @cncohshit @thescarlettvvitch @scrumptiousfestivalpost @melcchs @flowery-mess @mentallynot-here @judging-from-afar @darkmxgician @badomensls

Noah jumped on the floor as his hair whipped around, feeling the intro and the crowd cheered, before he gripped the mic stand, preparing to sing.

“Mine immaculate dream Made breath and skin, I've been waiting for you Signed, with a home tattoo Happy birthday to you was created for you.”

I bobbed my head, proud as guests began singing along. It wasn’t until Noah’s voice became deeper and raspier with the chorus that I smiled wider, heart hammering as he sang, watching me periodically from the stand.

“Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone? Who do you need? Who do you love When you come undone?”

The evening went on as the boys covered various songs, before getting ready to perform their last song for the night.

“Thank you guys so much for jamming along!” Noah yelled before sipping his water bottle, “It’s about to get heavy, so I want to see you mother fuckers headbang!”

The crowd cheered as Noah introduced Glass Houses, and the song began.

I banged my head with the music as their hair flew in spirals, pulling out my phone to record them.

As I opened my phone I saw a text message from an unknown number. Clicking on it my stomach immediately dropped as my limbs warmed with complete terror.

Los Angeles, hey? It’s about time we booked a vacation anyway. See you soon, my volto x

+++++

U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ

The square room was grim and damp, the cracked cement floor and torn wooden walls uninviting.

It was a place rarely used, but necessary in times such as these. It had been almost a year since it held a visitor, but the chair chained to the ground in the middle of the room remained untouched, ready for its guest.

I nodded at the men who trailed behind me, dropping the duffle bag of items to the ground.

Stale air hung heavily and I smiled, the waves from the water outside echoing along the corridor.

The perfect place to keep a body.

+̴̡̧̹̿̊̇̀̾̽̉̈́̾̓̚͘+̶̧̻̰̣̳͉̈́̐͛̏̐͆+̷̝̻̗͖̞̗̟̬̉͆́̓͒̀̐̽̐̚͘͝+̸̨̡̡͓͚̱̲̻͚̭̙̩̤̐ͅ+̷̨͈̗̾͒̑͝

NOAH

After our performance finished the five of us left, packing ourselves and the equipment into the van.

Jolly, Ruffilo and Folio were extremely giddy, excitement radiating off of them. At first, I felt this way too, the adrenaline rushing through me from how well it went, and how receptive our audience was. We even had a few people take photos with us, something that surprised me.

But these feelings were short-lived once I noticed Y/N’s behaviour: anxious and detached.

Y/N barely looked at any of us after the show, and she silently waited in the car, eyes glued to her phone.

I waited to ask until we were on the road towards home, her body placed between me and Ruffilo in the middle row of the van. Nicholas noticed her off demeanour as well, his eyes flicking between me and her, nodding his head towards her as he silently cued me to ask what was wrong.

My eyes furrowed at him as I shook my head back, nodding at him to ask her. They’ve gotten close, he might as well do it.

Nicholas rolled his eyes as he shrugged his shoulders, nodding at me once more.

“What are you two doing?” Y/N sighed quietly, looking up from her phone and turning her head between the two of us.

“Uh,” I laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of my head, “well we are both a little worried about you,” I admitted.

Y/N stared at me intensely, chewing on her lip in contemplation. Her face scrunched as conflict arose on her features before she handed me her phone. The screen was bright against the midnight darkness that cascaded around the vehicle. I looked down at the message displayed on the screen, my chest pounding as I read the words.

“Do you know who sent this?” I asked as my eyes widened in worry.

“Sent what?” Nicholas leaned over Y/N, attempting to read the screen. I don’t know if Y/N told the boys what she told me; so I closed the phone, handing it back to her.

She opened the phone again before passing it to Nicholas, and his own face contorted before staring at Y/N, “Volto?”

Y/N sighed again, knowing she would have to repeat everything she told me earlier, “I have a lot to explain to you guys… but for now, I’m not sure who sent the message.”

“Well it has to be someone who knows about the mask,” I suggested before turning my attention to Jolly who groaned in annoyance, staring out the rearview mirror while he clutched the steering wheel.

“God damn asshole, riding my ass.”

Folio looked out the side mirror, matching Jolly’s tone, “What a dick.”

I ignored them, eyeing Y/N, “Do you think it’s one of the Fidelio guys?”

“One of the twins, probably,” She watched back carefully, her eyes becoming distant as she became quiet, “And if it is, I’m fucked.”

I shook my head, my hand trailing down to hold onto her thigh gently, “I will let nothing happen to you.” I squeezed my fingers reassuringly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

She gave me a warm smile as her arm began to shake from the anxiety.

“Can this guy seriously fuck off?” Jolly now growled angrily through gritted teeth, tapping the brakes firmly as a warning which sent our bodies forward from the momentum.

“Dude don’t break-check them,” Nick warned from the passenger seat, holding onto the dashboard, “They’ll hit the gear in the trunk if they smash into us.”

Y/N and Nicholas turned to look out the back window, glaring at the car that rode almost against our bumper. I peeked from the side mirror, watching the headlight’s blind reflection shine against us.

Jolly revved the engine, accelerating against the gas pedal to speed up in an attempt to get away. The car behind followed suit, pulling up to us once again.

I scoffed, leaning forward to look at the speedometer, “Jesus Christ. You’re going the speed limit, right?”

“Of course I am Idiot. I don’t know what this fucker’s problem is,” Jolly’s grip tightened on the wheel as he kept looking back.

“Just make a right,” Nicholas stated as he continued watching behind, “let them pass us; I don’t want anyone getting hurt. We can turn back after.”

Jolly groaned in frustration as he signalled in agreeance, turning at the next light. As we did, the car behind followed suit and we watched in confusion.

“Uh hello?” Jolly yelled, shaking his head. He took another right, and the car followed us down the street once again.

“Are they…following us?” I squinted at the mirror again intensely, eying the lights.

“Jolly,” Y/N said, her breath hitching, “Take another right…”

He agreed, and the car still followed.

“One more,” Her voice was quiet now, her hand slipping into mine. Y/N entwined our fingers nervously, her palms clammy. My heart twitched in awe that she wanted to hold my hand.

“If the car turns with us,” she said restlessly, “They’re following us… because then we will be on the same road as before.”

My leg bounced as I watched this unfold, Nicholas and I peering at each other as we turned right. I sucked in an anticipated breath as there were no lights following for a moment; but then the same car turned the corner, speeding up to us.

“Shit,” Jolly pushed the gas pedal, sending the car forward. Y/N turned to look at me with worry, and I couldn’t help but match her expression. I held her hand firmly, my other gripping the handle that hung from the roof.

“Do you think-” Y/N’s voice wavered as she clung to me, “It’s them?”

Nicholas watched, confused, “Who? What is going on?”

“Jolly, step on it,” Nick yelled.

“Actually I was thinking of pulling over and chatting- Of course I’m fucking stepping on it!” Jolly mumbled in miffed anger, turning again.

The street light up ahead flashed yellow and the van rumbled beneath as Jolly floored it to make the light in time. The chase intensified as he navigated through the chaos of the city. Y/N squeezed my hand nervously and leaned into my side.

“We need to get out of town- who knows what’ll happen if we have to stop at a red light,” Nicholas huffed, turning back and forth between us and the car.

“Well, I ain’t stopping at a red light regardless,” Jolly turned the vehicle again, our bodies swaying with the velocity, “but hold on.”

It was a race down the vacant streets as we hastily sped past various buildings. They became a blur, before completely disappearing once we reached the outskirts of the city.

“Folio,” I grabbed the back of his seat, pulling my face next to his, “Are the extra masks and guns still in the glovebox?”

Nick opened the glovebox and Y/N’s pills spilled out, rolling onto the floor. I frowned for a brief moment before watching Nick reach for the fabric that lay inside. He passed each of us a mask, except Y/N, before handing me the gun.

I pulled out the clip, checking that I had enough rounds. Clicking it back in, I slipped the black mask over my face, Nicholas and Nick following.

I peered at Y/N through the holes of the mask, her eyes widening with fear.

“What’s the plan?” Nick asked from the front, rummaging underneath the seat for a moment before pulling out another gun. He passed it to Nicholas, who slid it into his waistband.

I watched the car’s erratic movements as it swayed with us, mimicking our every twist and turn.

“Pull off the road and confront them?” Nicholas suggested, and I snickered, rolling down the window.

“Time to play a game,” I muttered, unbuckling my seatbelt.

“Noah-” Y/N gripped my wrist, holding me, “What are you doing?”

I pulled away from her grip, “Warning shots. Maybe get a tire or two.”

I turned my body so I was facing the back, before pulling my head out of the window. The wind whipped past the back of my body forcefully as the car drove hastily along the road, my arm wobbling through the instability of the speed. My other hand remained holding onto the handle inside, attempting to ground myself, to avoid falling out of the moving car.

I held up the gun, pointing it toward the car that trailed behind tauntingly. Without hesitating I pulled the trigger, my finger grazing the metal as it fired. My wrist moved subtly with the kickback and I watched the bullet bounce off the pavement before I shot another, now hitting the hood of the car. The metal twanged in response, small sparks flying.

The vehicle swerved, attempting to avoid my shots as I fired a few more. The drivers slowed down for a second before speeding up, ignoring my threat.

I snarled at their resilience, firing another shot that then flew into the left headlight, burning it out. The car sped up again, this time pulling up right into the bumper.

They were going to try and hit us off the road.

“Fuck,” I muttered angrily, slipping back inside the car. I clicked my seatbelt into place, checking Y/N’s and making sure it was secure.

“So clearly they’re not backing off!” Nick screamed through the sound of the engine, and Jolly yelled at him.

“No shit!”

With a surge of determination, Jolly gripped the steering wheel tightly and pushed down on the accelerator one last time, determined to escape the chaos unfolding behind us. My heart hammered as I watched Jolly push the van to its limits, and the race against time and fate left Y/N uneasy beside me.

“I can’t go fast enough in this piece of shit they’re gonna hit us,” Jolly blared, knuckles whitening, “Hold on!”

Jolly slowed in an attempt to brace for impact, and the car behind us rammed into our bumper, the screeching of tires filling the air as our vehicle swerved to the side. The world seemed to slow as our bodies swung, our van colliding with the car of the unknown. I reached for Y/N, our fingers barely able to entwine as my lungs collapsed, my breath escaping me in complete shock.

The air was thick with the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline, my mind in a haze. Our van spun into the cement barricade that bordered the highway and the impact sent debris flying in all directions, the shockwave of the collision reverberating within my body. Glass from the windows shattered around us, spraying like glitter in the moonlight as the impact jolted the five of us forward. Time was still as the turmoil unfolded in a split second, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

As my head throbbed and ears rang, the faint taste of blood lingered on my tongue. Dust and debris filled the air as whiplash consumed me, and I peered at Y/N whose body hung folded over the middle seat.

“Y/N-” I coughed, choking on the lack of oxygen that fought to fill my lungs. I reached for her, my knuckles torn from the glass. The world began to fade away as I pushed myself toward her, gripping her body.

“Y/N,” I yelled, and she groaned, her head flopping towards me. A trail of crimson trickled from her forehead, dirt coating her features. She coughed and sucked in a shaky breath, before her E/C eyes opened, landing on me.

“Noah,” She whispered, barely audible as she blinked slowly, coming to. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and the shock of the situation hit like a ton of bricks as I remembered the situation seconds prior. Whoever hit us was surely going to get to us any second.

I pulled away from Y/N’s grip slowly, leaning down as my head spun, searching for the gun.

“Ruffles-” Y/N turned to him with worry, moving slowly as she placed a hand on both sides of his face, checking the cuts that dug into his skin.

Nicholas moaned in pain as he responded, and my eyes followed his gaze towards Jolly and Folio. Both airbags had exploded, their heads lying against the white canvas that was gradually beginning to deflate. Were they alive?

My heart raced as I gripped the gun lying on the floor, before attempting to push myself between the seats, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, “Nick? Jolly?”

“What the fuck,” Nick murmured in pain and I sighed in relief once I heard his voice, before poking Jolly. He let out a loud grunt.

The van was in complete shambles, and I struggled to free myself from the twisted metal and broken glass that surrounded us. I kicked open the backseat door and crawled out of the car, my hands landing on the cool asphalt. The dimly lit surroundings cast eerie shadows, adding to the disorientation and vulnerability as I stood up, scoping out the scene.

The car that followed us was barely smashed on the other side of the road; both front doors opened once I was in view. A gunshot flew past my ear, ricocheting off the cement.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered under my breath, ducking behind the wreckage of the van. I peered into the vehicle as Y/N rubbed her eyes, “They’re firing at us!”

Nick pushed the door open, his body rolling onto the ground, groaning, “The gun,” He swayed, pulling himself up, searching the car with a hand, “Ruffilo! Give me the gun!”

More shots were fired from behind and I covered my head, looking back at Y/N who hid in Nicholas’ chest, completely afraid. He gripped her tightly, protecting her head as he threw the gun to Folio, who cocked it, placing his back against the torn metal.

Jolly yelled at Nick to move as he crawled from the driver’s seat to the passengers, sliding out, and hiding behind the debris, “We need to form a plan!”

“There’s no time,” I growled, closing my eyes as my breath heaved from my chest, anticipating the worst as the shots got closer and closer, bouncing between the road and the metal of the car.

I got down on the ground, my knees rubbing against the rock as I peeked around what was left of the bumper. Amongst the dust from the collision two figures appeared from the smoke, their black suits slick and barely untouched- comical.

My eyes squinted in recognition as I looked at their heads, the slick silver sheen glinting from the moonlight. The muzzle was long, and the ears appeared sharp and pointy, followed by a set of painted black features.

Fox masks covered their identity, the two walking in sync towards us.

The article. The Twins.

“Noah-” Jolly hunched over, his breathing erratic as his tattered long hair peeked from beneath the mask he now slid over his face, “Who is it?”

My mind skimmed to a conclusion as I scooted back, “They’re here for Y/N. We need to get her away from here, or at least distract them till she can run.”

“N0,” Y/N pulled herself from Nicholas, tears streaming down her face. She peered out the broken window, a hand climbing to her mouth as she held it there in fear once she saw them, “You guys need to run. They want me, I don’t need you getting hurt.”

I shook my head, cocking the gun, “I told you I would protect you. I will not go back on my word.”

“No, you don’t understand,” She almost screamed in dread, “That has to be Kiean and Kade. They used to tell me if shit hit the fan, they’d turn to the fox masks.”

“What does that mean?” I shook my head in confusion, looking at them once again before turning my attention to Y/N.

“They twisted an old Indigenous legend of the fox twins,” She said, watching them as she spoke, “instead of the twins growing as heroes from their demise, they strive for revenge.”

I pulled at the fabric that covered my face, readjusting it before standing up. I dropped the loaded gun next to my foot, before revealing myself from behind the car.

“Noah!” She yelled, but I continued walking out, holding my hands up.

The one on the right pointed the gun at me, my throat aching from the adrenaline as I heaved nervously.

“Where is she,” His voice was muffled from the mask, deep and antagonizing as he held the threat menacingly.

I shook my head, hands held up high in surrender, “Who the hell are you talking about?”

“You think I’m stupid?” The man scoffed, turning his head to look at his companion before back at me.

“You assholes were following us. I don’t know who you’re talking about and what you want.” my demeanour was cold, and overly calm considering the circumstances. I was a ticking time bomb, ready to lunge at any second.

A deep laugh erupted behind the same mask, “I will shoot you. Get her out here.”

I scoffed, lowering my hands, “Look, we don’t have anything you want. So, I think we’re done here.”

The gun pointed toward me clicked, and I swallowed harshly, staring at the barrel.

“Y/N,” The man said, her name foreign and vile as it trailed from his mouth. He knew she was there.

I dared not to look at the car behind me, but I noticed a figure move from my peripheral. No Y/N, don’t.

“Again,” I laughed, mocking them with stupidity, “There’s only four of us- and this Y/N person isn’t one-”

The man then took quick steps forward with the gun, and before I knew it Y/N shouted, exposing herself as she stood in front of me, guarding my chest.

“NO!”

Fuck.

The fox tilted his head as the gun was now placed in front of Y/N’s forehead, her shoulders heaving with her erratic breaths. Her arms were out protectively toward the men as she placed herself between death and remorse; the other gun from the car within her grasp. My stomach swirled with unease and liability.

Seconds felt like minutes as we stood there; but finally, his weapon lowered, arm slowly resting against his side. His free hand reached underneath the bottom of the plastic that covered his head, peeling off the layer of false anonymity.

Dull green eyes met mine, the repulsion behind them dissolving me from the inside out. His gaze was almost feral as his lip turned into a snarl at my presence; he didn’t dare look away as he spoke.

“This?” he scoffed, appalled, “You moved on to this piece of shit?”

The wavy head of dirty blonde hair that sat on his head was paired with a straight upturned nose, slight facial hair, and a nose ring. He was the definition of a pretty-white boy surfer, and my eyes narrowed.

“Fucking whore.” He spit as he then stared at Y/N, his jaw clenching. The muscles in his neck tightened as he watched her viciously.

“Kade,” The next voice warned, and I peered at the twin who stood behind him. As he took his mask off I swore I heard Y/N gasp ever so lightly, the gun in her grasp lowering slightly.

This man looked almost identical to the one looming over us; except his hair was to his shoulders, the top tied back into a small bun. His eyes seemed softer- gentler. The emerald gaze was more vibrant as he stared at her; until he met mine.

“Please,” Y/N’s voice wavered, “Let him go. Take me, but let him go.”

“Why?” Kade laughed, tapping the gun against his thigh, “you care about him?”

Kade stepped forward, and Y/N stepped back, pushing into my torso.

“Hmm?” He taunted.

“I- you don’t need to do anything irrational,” She held up her hands. She was afraid.

“This your new toy?” The blonde’s words began digging into her, but his eyes remained on me.

She hiccuped, holding her hands up in front of her face in defence as he got closer to us.

“You’re fucking him now?” He roared.

“K-Kiean,” She stuttered, almost in a plea toward the other twin.

Kiean.

As I went to move in front of her, the back of Kade’s hand swung into Y/N’s head, the handle of the gun cutting the skin above her lip. She clutched her face as she stumbled backward, falling onto the asphalt. The gun slid across the road.

Anger rose from my chest instantly, “Don’t you fucking touch her,” My voice dripped with venom, and without thinking I held my arm up, sending a forceful blow into the side of Kade’s neck.

As if a bomb went off, he lunged for me, my back sliding onto the cement as he fell on top of me, “I want to see your pathetic face,” He screamed, his anger ripping from his throat as he began punching my chest, clawing at the fabric that covered me.

The air I had left was dispersing from my lungs as I began rolling with him, punching him back.

“Noah!” Y/N screamed as she scrambled to her feet, running toward me; but the other twin grabbed her, caging her in his arms. She thrashed aggressively, attempting to free herself.

I heard the shuffling of footsteps from the side and Jolly appeared, throwing himself into Kade’s body. Nick was right behind, picking me up as Nicholas ran toward Y/N and Kiean.

A gunshot ripped through the air and everybody froze, my ears ringing with anticipation.

Time slowed once again as I looked up at Y/N.

Kiean held Y/N firmly, the gun pointed at her head. Tears of terror began brimming her eyes as she grabbed at the suit covering his arm.

I exhaled quickly as I watched Y/N; the fear in her eyes radiating back at me- hopeless. I shook my head, licking my lips in panic; I needed her. It took everything in me not to run toward her as the gun pressed vehemently into her skull.

“Don’t move,” Kiean said, slowly backing towards the car. Kade quickly got his feet, scurrying away from Jolly and following his copy. Kade grabbed the gun that Y/N had dropped, pointing it toward the four of us.

“Noah-” Y/N cried, her body convulsing in her captor’s arms as he dragged her closer to the car.

Her lips trembled as she screamed her last word before Kiean put her in the car, “Run.”

Kade began to fire at us and we ducked, running back to the smashed van for shelter as bullets flew past us. My heartbeat pounded in my ears as adrenaline washed through me once again. I wanted to yell, I wanted to cry. I wanted to run to Y/N, and I wanted to tell her it would all be okay.

But I couldn’t- she was gone.

And I was a coward.

A useless fucking coward.

The gunshots ceased as the engine revved, doors slamming as the sound of wheels spinning out filled the midnight scene. The car began racing down the road, taking Y/N with them.

My saving grace.

Our heavy breathing was all I could hear as I squeezed my eyes shut, an angry scream crawling from my lungs. I threw my mask to the grounds.

+++++

The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I waded, tears brimming my eyes. I placed the white flower on top of the stone, sighing as I sniffed and sat down. The dying grass was wet beneath my legs, but I didn’t care.

“It’s been a while,” I whispered, lowering my head towards my deaf listeners. The breeze swirled through my hair, my brunette locks swaying gently with each gust. I zipped up my black jacket, placing my hands into the pockets.

“I met a nice girl,” I laughed ever so softly, her image filling my mind. I closed them once the memory of two nights ago crashed through her smile, blurring the good and bad.

“And I already fucked up,” I wiped my nose as my throat tightened, “I tainted her.”

The wind whistled between the graves as if responding.

I picked at the grass for a moment, playing nervously with the strands I pulled from the dirt, “she’s gone. I don’t know how to find her.”

My vision blurred as silent tears fell, and my head bowed again.

“I miss you, mom.” I used my sleeve to dry my cheeks, “and you, dad.”

The three of us sat in silence, the trees above the cemetery singing with the autumn air. I spoke to them for a few more minutes. I tried to make it quick, knowing that if I stayed longer I wouldn't be able to leave.

“I hope you get to meet her someday,” I murmured as I stood, dusting off my pants.

“I’d like to hear about this girl.”

My stomach dropped as I whipped around in alarm, my heart thumping rapidly once I met his silver completion.

+++++

U̧̢̼̹͓͇̮͈͕̰͑͗ͭ̂̐̓̾̇̑̀̑̌̅̈͟͢͞Ń̷̙͎͍̘͈̰̫̫̭̼͇̻̱͈̝̇͐̌ͧͥ̅͑̏̈̐̉ͫ͝͡͠K̷̴̷̸͇̤̝̥͓̤̖̣̇̏ͭ̇̇̍ͨ͞_̸̸̨̡͎̭̄NͨO̅͆WͨŅ̷̢̮̣̰͚̝̮ͫ̑̾ͤ͌̉̀ͧͪͅͅ

Soon, I’ll kill my final piece of evidence… and soon, I’ll have control of Fidelio.

+̴̡̧̹̿̊̇̀̾̽̉̈́̾̓̚͘+̶̧̻̰̣̳͉̈́̐͛̏̐͆+̷̝̻̗͖̞̗̟̬̉͆́̓͒̀̐̽̐̚͘͝+̸̨̡̡͓͚̱̲̻͚̭̙̩̤̐ͅ+̷̨͈̗̾͒̑͝

We couldn’t save our lives but we’re here Drunk and fucked up so in love what we once had Now it’s over, one last time here On the streets but they lead nowhere Time and time again we were not thankful for our gifts Things we took for granted like a sweet kiss on your lips We could have been at the start of our days but it ends Stories have been told You’re so pretty when you’re drunk In a world like that

Chapter 8

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #burning out fanfic #nick folio #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #sorrows of silence #burning out #crime #crime fanfic

[korruptbrekker]

Ooh here's the one I got! Prompt 359: "People aren’t made for each other; they make themselves for each other." Tchaikstakovich preferred, but you can really write any ship you want :D

I added onto this request with a randomly generated trope as well, which turned out to be 7: Arranged Marriage

[AO3]

👑 • 👑

The study door was ajar, as it occasionally was, and Pyotr could feel the draft slipping into the hallway. He brushed the door opened and stepped in, unsurprised to find it empty.

The sheer curtains fluttered in the mild wind, his husband silhouetted against the graying sky. He looked so regal like this, back effortlessly straight, shoulders strong and unburdened.

If Pyotr didn't know him, he would believe Dimitri chose this life. But Pyotr knew him well, and could see how heavy the world weighed on him. Even without seeing his face, Pyotr knew the wrinkles around his eyes weren't from years of smiling.

He glanced to the desk, fingers trailing along the dark wood. Most of the contents were letters; correspondents with various government officials. Books of geography, economics, and finance were stacked on the lefthand side of the desk. And beneath them, hidden where no one would see, were hints of manuscript paper. A taste of the life Dmitri would have led if he were not bound to Pyotr.

He turned his attention to the balcony again, admiring his husband. It wasn't often they were allowed a chance to breathe, always swarmed with the responsibilities of running a kingdom by themselves. Certainly, they had help, but he and Dmitri were the figureheads of the country. Every choice they made, whether it be by themselves or with a team, was always put on their shoulders.

He often wondered what would have happened if Dimitri had never been put in this position. If he had continued to be merely a prince, if his older brother had never died, and if he had never had to marry Pyotr.

They weren't unhappy together. Strictly the opposite, in fact. That much Pyotr was immensely grateful for. They had decided to make the best out of a bad situation, and had both come out of it stronger together. Love was not effortless, and through the years of working together they put the work in to make something.

Something real.

He stepped further into the room, silently walking towards the balcony. He leaned against the archway, looking out on the same view Dmitri was lost in.

There were days where he dreamed of them meeting in a different way. A more natural way. Something from a fairytale.

But he always paused, wondering if he would have taken that fairytale meeting for granted. Their love had taken so much work in the beginning, and he wasn't sure he would have put that effort in if he hadn't been forced to.

Fairytales were nice, they were sweet escapes. But there is more to life than love at first sight, and if a more natural meeting meant something that disappeared in only a few months, Pyotr would selfishly keep the life he now had to himself.

He moved towards the balcony, resting his forearms on the railing, his arms just shy of brushing his husband's.

They were quiet. Nowadays they didn't need to say much to each other. Years of being in each other's company and wrapped in the whirlwind of running a kingdom had made them appreciate their silence.

They both just sat by each other, the only sound between them their breath. Out in the distance there was a storm rolling in, thick black clouds shrouding the mountains in the distance. Columns of rain descended from them, making a mockery of the angelic imagery that lined the castle walls Pyotr had grown up within.

He sighed. Yearning for an easier life was tempting, but he had fallen into that pit too many times to humour those ideas for long. He had spent too many years wishing for something better, unknowingly casting aside the light that inhabited this life.

Eventually Dimitri broke the silence, still looking out into the sky.

“I love you,” he said, voice clear and strong as it always was.

Pyotr smiled. “I love you too.”

The silence settled back around them, blanketing the words that held so much weight. They were so much more than the empty vows they had been.

Now they held promise.

Promise that he and Dmitri would one day get their own fairytale ending. Just as they had built their love for each other from the ground up, they would build their story too.

And live happily ever after.

#kbanswers #local-human-disaster #kbwrites #b2tsm #tchaikovsky b2tsm #shostakovich b2tsm #tchaikstakovich #arranged marriage

[edelweisser]

This will be my very first work that I'll be posting here entitled "Predicament", this is also an activity of mine in Creative Writing. I'm also going to attach one of my drawings below. Please enjoy traveling to my oasis!

Ps' This is still a work in progress so please stay tuned for future updates!

Predicament

Listening to classical music has always been my comfort. It's already 2:33 AM now, half the word is already asleep, but here I am, still awake and contemplating about the decisions that I've made. The blanket is beneath my feet, not minding the cold breeze of October coming through the holes in my wall. I stood up to turn off the light, not because of the electricity bill but because it is my last resort. I've been lying in this bed for hours now, if someone is watching me, they'll think that I'm the loneliest man alive.

I should be sleeping now if I don't want to be late for my job tomorrow. I didn't notice a tear escaping from my left eye. Only my pillow knows what's going on with my life. I doubt this pillow will even stay if it have the capability to leave. That's what everyone is doing anyway.

I remember the first time my mother sent me to school. She said she's very happy but her eyes says the opposite. My mother is still quite young that time, her round angelic eyes looks mesmerising, her face is shaped like those in magazines, while her nose is pointed like the girls you can only see in commercials, maybe the reason why my father chose her. Speaking of, I don't have any memory of my father. My mother said that he is an American soldier, the reasin for my western features. My mother have been very vocal about him, whenever I'll ask a question she won't hesitate to answer it. She said that it'll be unfair to me is she keep it as a secret. Those were just some of my vivid memories of my mom.

The next morning I had to wake up early. I reckoned I only had an hour of sleep. The eye bag is palpably showing underneath my eyes. I need to walk down an alleyway before reaching the the main road. Most says, the alleyway is a chaos. Since my mother is a piano instructor, she didn't left that much money when she passed away, just enough for me to afford a studio type room with leaks in roof and small holes on the wall. I bet you can already imagine the various people living here. The reason why it's just normal for me to encounter people shouting — maybe because of an affair, while passing by. Despite being crowded it's still a lifeless road for me. It feels like I'm always living in my own world, like all the other people doesn't matter.

Despite all the bad things that happened to me, I still manage to be an scholar to a nearby state college. One of the things that I'm still thankful for. After working to a fast food restaurant in the morning, I need to go straight to the university that I'm studying at. The university is pretty decent, it's not that big. Most of the youths here who don't have the ability to go to other universities in nearby provinces study there.

After my shift I headed straight to our school. Since I came from my job and our manager told us to overtime for a couple minutes because we needed to run some errands, the classroom is already almost full when I arrived. I sat on the only vacant seat in the room. As usual I sat without looking at my surrounding, last thing I want is to have an interaction with someone. I know that I told you I'm not paying attention to everyone around me but I swear this classroom is quite noisy when I arrived, but now, I can almost hear my own heartbeat. No one is talking. Not until a voice of a girl ended the silence.

"Uhm, I think you're in the wrong classroom", the voice is coming from behind me. I slowly focused on my surrounding, turning my head around.

It slowly dawned on me that everyone is so quiet because they are looking at me. For a moment, I remembered a familiar face, but it ended quickly when I remembered what my situation is. I stood up in a fast manner and ran to the exit quickly. I don't remember much about my childhood but I swear this is the most embarrassing situation I've ever been.

I released a heavy sigh after sitting at my armchair, this time I made sure that it was the right classroom. I didn't notice that I was holding my breath the whole time that I'm searching for this classroom. I can't focus the whole day on our discussions because of what happened. It is not because I am still embarrassed, I've move on already, but because of that familiar face, it is like she's alive again, but I know that it is impossible.

Our last class is P.E., we only played soccer at the football field. I usually stay a bit longer and wait for everyone to leae before showering. So when I confirmed that everyone has already left I started to shower. While I'm in the middle of doing it I heard noises. Someone must have left something and came back. Several minutes later the noise didn't stop but instead it was replaced by weird noises, it sounds like someone is struggling. I quickly finished showering. I wanna know what's causing all the noise. Before I even reached the locker room someone ran rapidly. I didn't get the chance to see who it was or what it is.I then noticed the door of my locker opened, the handle is somewhat deformed, it looks like someone forcibly opened it. I had a mini heart attack. I'm so tired the whole day nd all I want right now is to lay in my bed, but it seems like whoever is controlling this world have a way of pissing me off. The last thing I want right now is another problem. I scanned my whole locker to see if there is anything missing. But instead, I saw something wrapped in a pink checkered handkerchief. But since it is wrapped, I can't see what's inside. It looks clean and the handkerchief smells good. However, I have no plan opening it. So before going home that night, I threw it in the trash can. It was such a long day for me, it's already 8:34 PM when I arrived at my rental room, after just several minutes of laying in my bed I already fell asleep— something that rarely happens.

It's already a week since that weird encounter. Everyday since then someone is leaving the same thing in my locker. Yes, I said "everyday". But yesterday was different, whoever is doing it left a note.

"Please eat this, I made it for you. :<", that is what's written in it.

And just like every time, I still just throw it in the trash. But today I have a plan, I'll wait here in the locker room to catch whoever is doing this. Cause whoever this is, is not helping me at all. I didn't attend to my P.E. class today. So whoever is doing this, they better show up. I didn't wasted my time just for them not to show up today. After an hour of waiting, no one is showing up yet. I decided that I'll just wash face and then I'm going home already.

There is just one wall separating the locker room to our shower room. It is supposed to be just one room but the school decided to put a wall in the middle to use it as our locker and shower room.

Just when I'm about to open the faucet, I heard footsteps. It wasn't just normal footsteps, it sounds like whoever it is, is controlling their footsteps. Like they are trying to make their noises as low as possible. I silently check the other room with just my head poking on the other side of the wall. I saw a familiar person, her hair is short, she is still wearing her uniform. I can't point out where did I saw her because the lights in the locker room are not that bright. I quickly rushed towards her, all I want now is for this to be done. I'm sick of having to throw whatever those things that she's putting in my locker the whole week.

I saw her struggling to open the locker, I quickly grabbed her wrist. The surprise is evident in her face when she looked at me. But I was caught off guard when I saw who it is. It was the girl who looks like my mom. She slowly smiled, it seems genuine. She's now calm— or she's trying to be.

"Since you already caught me, I guess I don't have to do this everyday anymore. Thank god, cause I'm tired of doing this everyday", she said.

My eyebrows furrowed. I know she can tell now that I'm confused.

[autisticandroids]

yknow those episodes where a character's whole personality gets split into 3-5 different distinct separate bodies? what bodies would cas have? I feel like it'd just be a mess tbh, imagine 5 different castiels all of them loving dean to a certain extent but showing it VASTLY differently. one cas would literally want to murder the others lmao

okay so i don’t actually think this trope would be an effective tool for analyzing cas? he’s not conflicted enough in himself. he’s too impulsive, too singleminded, too uninhibited. like, in the end, cas always ends up doing whatever he wants. there aren’t multiple discrete voices vying for control, really, or rather, if there are, one is always significantly stronger than the others. like in the end cas will always end up eating raw meat off the floor, you know? he’ll do what he wants. if i was going to do personality splitting i’d do it to someone intensely internally conflicted, like dean.

however, because i’m in an essay writing mood today, i’ll answer a question slightly to the left of the one you asked. cas may not be internally conflicted, but he is intensely changeable. these two things are related, actually; the same impulsivity and singlemindedness that mean he doesn’t have a ton of internal conflict at any given time mean that different ideas sound good to him at different times, because he isn’t really thinking about, say, what future-him will think of them. and he’s not really trying to maintain an image or identity. he’s just doing what feels right at the time, which is very different at different times and in different situations.

anyway, that in mind, i think a lot about ways to bring together many alternate versions of cas which sort of correspond to different times in the show.

i have a fic in my head about a bunch of cas-es pulled from alternate timelines by some kind of spell. so this would be set during the widower arc because the basic impulse here is to show dean a very bad time. just absolutely put him through hell. also, all the alternate timelines are different because different stuff happened, not because cas made different choices, because if we’re torturing dean it has to be like 5x04, the changes in cas can’t be cas’ fault. they have to be dean’s or just like, the universe’s (which makes them dean’s).

so dean is trying to bring cas back, and he finds some kind of spell that can bring someone “from another world.” and he tries it because hey. can’t hurt to try. anyway i’ve thought a long time about different versions of cas i would put in this and here is what i have. in order of when the timeline split off.

- a cas who never raised dean from hell. think 14x13 “lebanon.” this one i’m not too sure about, like, this could be fun, but i don’t know if it’s different enough from the next one. like this castiel would have lived through the averted apocalypse and subsequent general fuckery that happened as an angelic footsoldier, which would actually be pretty interesting now that i think about it, especially since all that stuff would have gone down soooooooo differently without cas specifically for your average angel footsoldier. like cas has PERSONALLY caused more upheaval in heaven in twelve years of spn than there seems to have been in millennia. so he would be the point of view of a normal footsoldier from a totally other world.

- a cas who died mid season four, and is pulled out of the empty in 2017 by this spell. i’m not sure when this cas died. my thoughts are (1) killed in on the head of a pin by alistair, (2) killed during his torture in the rapture, or (3) simply never resurrected after lucifer rising. (3) makes the most sense, but that cas has already thrown away everything for dean. i prefer the idea of a cas who loves dean, is already on the brink of disobedience for him, but has not yet taken the plunge. both on the head of a pin and the rapture are great places for this, and they both have strengths and weaknesses. if he died in the rapture, he was killed by heaven, which is fundamentally more fun, but he was also really very much over the edge already. if he died in on the head of a pin, he wasn’t killed by heaven, but he is perfectly teetering on the brink of falling for dean. regardless of when he died, the purpose of this cas is to be horrified at all the various and myriad ways he has destroyed and corrupted himself for dean in the other timelines.

- possibly endverse cas, who would have died in 2014, but like s4 cas, would have been pulled from the afterlife by the spell. i’m not so sure on this one. we as a society love endverse cas but i dunno what purpose he would serve. maybe endverse cas didn’t die in 2014, and instead was imprisoned by lucifer, because, you know. he’s the only brother lucifer has left. so he is very excited to see dean alive and well, since his dean is dead, and, not being an angel, cas can’t bring him back. the purpose of this cas would be to horrify dean that cas loves him and needs him so much, and to disgust the other cas-es with his neediness.

- a cas who was in some way on better terms with dean during s6. maybe dean and cas ride off into the sunset together after swan song instead of dean going to live with lisa, maybe dean prayed to cas while he was with lisa because he missed him, who knows. either way, cas has dean’s help with the angel revolution in season six from the start, and never goes to crowley. the plan cas and dean come up with to beat raphael includes breaking into the cage and stealing the grace of michael and lucifer, freeing sam and adam in the process. incidentally, it also involves cas possessing dean, because if cas is gonna eat archangel grace to become more powerful, he’s going to need a stronger vessel. so cas and dean have a whole like. midam situation happening. they’re a double archangel together, and godstiel never happened so none of the other terrible apocalypses that stemmed from that happened, and everything is pretty cool where they’re from, and also they’re obviously uhhhhhh SOME kind of together. the purpose of this cas is to upset dean because this cas shows how much better everything could have been and how much better his and cas’ relationship could have been if dean had simply been more considerate of cas in s6, and also freak dean out with how uh. close. this dean and cas are.

- a godstiel who managed to swallow purgatory without swallowing the leviathans and remained god. he’s probably soooomewhat less scary and murdery than canonverse godstiel because no leviathans, so you know, not as many angel purges or massacres on earth. and he probably went and fixed sam’s wall within about three days because cas is prideful but he does NOT like it when dean is mad at him. so they did kiss and make up, and so this cas would have had dean to act as his morality chain. but he’s still very scary and godstiel. and also he refers to dean as “The Beloved” you know. his purpose is to freak everyone out, because he’s scary, but also, for the past cas-es, because he is a terrifying abomination that they could never imagine becoming, for the future cas-es, because he is a reminder of their worst selves, and for dean, because he is a reminder of how dangerous cas is, but also because he uh. obviously has some feelings about his dean. unclear if they are consummated or not.

- a cas who naomi never rescued from purgatory, and who stayed there. hasn't spoken to another being in half a decade, has not recovered from his emotionally destroyed state in purgatory in s8. believes at first that the spell is his dean rescuing him, and is crushed when he realizes he was wrong. like endverse cas, his purpose is to show dean how much cas needs him and depends on him emotionally, and how he (dean) is capable of destroying cas, as well as his guilt for leaving him in purgatory and how lucky he is that his cas got out. this is especially noteworthy since the guilt for leaving cas in purgatory is part of the reason dean is trying to get cas back.

- a cas who stayed human after season nine, and has built himself a small human life over the next four years. he has a job and an apartment and friends outside the winchesters and yes, he still goes hunting after work sometimes, and he's still in contact with dean, but he is also independent in a way no other version of cas has ever been. he exists to freak out dean because dean has never seen cas independent of him. he is also fairly bitter at dean since dean did kind of stop spending time with him when he was no longer useful, and our dean feels guilty for that.

- a cas who showed up twenty minutes later in 10x03, finding sam dead and dean gone, and had to chase down demon dean, and has now spent three years following demon dean around as his tragically adoring stalker, because he hasn't found a way to resurrect sam yet and he doesn't want to put dean through the demon cure until he can save sam because he doesn't want dean to experience that guilt, but he also adores dean and wants to keep an eye on him and keep him safe and also keep him from doing anything too heinous, so he just covertly follows him around the country and watches from a distance as he commits various murders and fucks his way through every local bar scene. and occasionally cas finds dean something to kill, when the mark gets hungry, and drops it in his path. his purpose is to freak dean out with the lengths cas would go for him, and the depths cas would sink to.

anyway. lebanon cas and season four cas are horrified and perhaps disgusted (lebanon cas more than s4 cas) by ALL of the later cas-es, and how far they’re fallen, all of it for dean. godstiel and archangel cas being abominations, endverse cas and s9 cas being fallen, even purgatory cas and demon dean’s cas for their total dependence on dean.

purgatory cas and endverse cas are just happy to see a dean, even if it’s not their dean. demon dean’s cas, too, in a way. he’s happy to see a dean who is still human, who he can still have as a friend.

human cas is pissed to see that he was right, that dean would have stuck by him if he’d still had his powers, that this version of dean is doing spells to try and bring his cas, who is still an angel, back, whereas he and his dean only see each other once every couple months.

everyone is terrified and disgusted by godstiel, as i said before.

they’re mostly kind of thrown by archangel cas. a lot of them are jealous. godstiel is furious because how dare anyone, even an alternate version of himself, take dean as a vessel (even if dean likes it). godstiel isn’t really there, though, he resisted the summoning and just sort of popped his head through to see what was going on, and he goes back to his own reality pretty fast without murdering anyone.

also to be clear dean has not at this point examined or acknowledged any feelings he may have about his cas besides “friendship,” nor has he wondered what feelings his cas may have for him. given how many of the cas-es were clearly in some kind of relationship with their dean (endverse cas, archangel cas) or just openly in love with their dean (godstiel, purgatory cas, demon dean’s cas), dean is forced to reevaluate the nature of his and cas’ relationship.

#spn #asks #anonymous

[andreafmn]

Collision - Chapter 2

Word Count: 1,477

Characters: Female Reader Uley Character, Sam Uley, Allison Uley, Charlie Swan, Bella Swan, Seth Clearwater, Billy Black, Jacob Black, Emily Young, Paul Lahote, Harry and Sue Clearwater, Leah Clearwater

Story Description: (Y/N) Uley is back home after being away for four years. Her life at it’s first standstill and she is taking this time to find out who she is without school. But she never thought that coming back to the reservation would turn her whole life around. In the midst of secrets and mystery, a man crashes into (Y/N)’s and her life will never be the same.

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Twilight, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Stephanie Meyer and Summit Entertainment. The only thing I own is Uley Reader insert, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others’ story line.

Chapter: 2/?

A/N: There’s no Cullen’s in the first chapter, we’ll see them soon though. Also, Esme is in the story but her and Carlisle are not together romantically. If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

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Chapter 2

The next day she awoke at half past ten. She looked at her bedside clock flustered, knowing she had wasted almost all morning. She could smell breakfast already prepared and her mother downstairs doing some light cleaning.

She hurried into the bathroom and took a small time to finish her morning routine, flying down the stairs. Allison laughed as she noticed her daughter stumbling with hurry down the stairs, clearly heading to the door.

“Eat some breakfast before you go, darling!” Allison shouted as she swept the floor of the dining room.

“I’ll just get some on the way,” (Y/N) said as she put her jacket on, seeing in the distance dark clouds adorning the sky.

“I made you a sandwich so you can take it with you and a travel mug filled with coffee.”

“Thanks, mom. You’re the best,” (Y/N) kissed her mother’s cheek and grabbed the food from her hands.

“And be careful on the streets, the tires haven’t been changed on the truck and the roads are supposed to be very slippery today.” Allison called out to the girl who was almost completely out of the door.

(Y/N) barely heard her mother’s warning as she jogged up to the truck parked on the driveway. There was a sandwich hanging from her mouth as she backed up and sped to the main road. It was quite a long ride to Port Angeles, and she wanted to be back before dark. She spent the ninety-minute drive listening to background music and noticing how the sky changed from blue to dark grey to a lighter grey as she passed and left Forks. She rarely visited the neighboring town, listening to the stories by the elders gave her enough reason not to. Unlike most of her friends and even her own brother, she believed the string of words that they sewed. There were so many things that were unexplained in the universe that it would be ignorant of her to not believe that the supernatural could exist. Although, the past four years she had started to disregard the tales as made up stories, not being able to prove that they were veracious.

Once she arrived, she parked in front of an antique store and started perusing through the various stores in the strip mall. Before she knew it, five hours had passed. Her feet were sore from walking back and forth, her arms were read from all the bags she had carried, and her head was hurting from a lack of food. It was already five in the afternoon and (Y/N) was ready to go home. She got back into the truck and started her drive back home. An hour into the drive the sky darkened more than it should’ve, and heavy rain cascaded from the clouds. Her vision was impaired from the thick droplets and her heart was beating hard, scared of what could jump out in the darkness.

(Y/N)’s worries were confirmed when a deer jumped onto the street and had her swerve the truck. The car spun for some seconds and slid off the road, crashing into a tree. The girl’s head flew forward on impact and connected with the steering wheel in front of her. Her vision blurred and her headache grew exponentially. She could hear her name being called from far away but couldn’t distinguish whose it was. As it came closer, she could finally make out the frame of the sheriff, Charlie Swan. He was speaking to her, but no words registered in her head.

Charlie moved closer to the truck and tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The sheriff reached into the open window and carefully tried to retrieve the wounded girl. She wasn’t in the right mind and in this rain an ambulance would take too long to get here. He laid (Y/N)’s head on his shoulder as she mumbled incoherent words, then reaching his arms under hers to pull her softly. He was careful not to scrape her body too much against the broken window, laying down his jacket first to cover most of it. Charlie tried his best to see amid the harsh rain, praying to whatever being was controlling the weather to stop. The blood that was gushing from (Y/N)’s forehead had washed off as soon as her head had exited the car but it didn’t stop flowing. After what felt like hours, the sheriff had the teenage girl in his arms and carried her to his cruiser. Turning his emergency lights on he sped as carefully as possible to the hospital.

He felt the ride eternal as he heard the hurt girl in the back of the car moaning in pain and noticing the shirt he’d wrapped around her forehead was soaking up too much blood. As he neared the bright lights of the hospital, he slowed the speed down as to not slam on his brakes and cause more damage to (Y/N). He carefully grabbed her limp body and entered the hospital. It seemed like the emergency room had a slow night, but he only brought trouble. 

“I need some help here!” Charlie called out, worry laced in his voice. 

“Sheriff Swan, what happened?” A nurse asked as she accompanied the team wheeling a gurney for the unconscious being in the officer’s arms. 

“This is (Y/N) Uley. She hit her head in a car accident, I assume her car swerved as she avoided an animal in the street. She’s been unconscious since I got her in my car. When I found her she was barely coherent.” 

“Okay, why don’t you wait for us in the waiting room. We’ll let you know as soon as we have some news.” The nurse smiled. 

All Charlie could do was nod and sit down for a second, later pulling out his phone to dial Allison Uley’s number. 

“Sheriff, to what do I owe this pleasure,” Allison chimed. 

“It’s not good news, Allison. (Y/N) has been in a car accident.” Charlie could feel the panicked energy coming from the other side of the phone. Close to this time last year he had gotten news that his own daughter was hurt through a phone call. “Now, Allison, I know you want to speed off to the hospital but I would advise you not to. The roads are really bad over here and we can’t have you both admitted.” 

“But I can’t leave her alone,” she sobbed. “I need to be there for my baby.” 

“I know, but she won’t be alone. I’m gonna stay here until she’s good to go and I’ll take her back to your house. Now don’t you worry, you know she’s a strong one.” 

“I know,” Allison sighed an air of defeat. “Alright, just please keep me updated on everything. Doesn’t matter how late.” 

“Will do. I’ll have my buddy pick up the truck and leave it at Billy’s.” 

“Thank you, Charlie, so much.” 

“No problem, Allison. Try to get some shuteye, it looks to be a long night.”

And a long night it was.  

Thankfully, (Y/N)’s injuries were minor and she would be able to leave as soon as she woke up. Charlie spent all night in the hospital, calling a friend to drive (Y/N)’s truck so that Jacob could see if it was worthy of repair and leaving a message for his daughter that he would not be coming home that night. The nurses were nice enough to bring the officer a blanket and some coffee as it seemed he wasn’t going to leave and come back the next morning, keeping his promise to Allison that he’d stay beside her daughter. 

Once a room was given to (Y/N), Charlie managed to catch up on a little bit of sleep on the armchair next to her bed. The girl slept even through the morning light that slipped through the window that woke the sheriff up. He updated Allison on the persistent status of her daughter. Once again, the nurses showing kindness by bringing him a cup of coffee as he waited for (Y/N)’s eyes to open.

(Y/N) was engulfed in darkness during what felt like a second. She tried fluttering her eyes open but was met with a painfully bright light and a pulsating headache that rang through her body. Her eyes closed once again to try to minimize the discomfort, to much avail. She barely remembered what event befell her to end up in this situation, but she could hear she was not alone.

“Are the lights bothering you, (Y/N)?” Sheriff Swan spoke, noticing the girl had awoken. She promptly nodded and he stood up to turn off the lights as the room door opened. “All right, they’re off now. Hello, doctor.”

She tried opening her eyes again and was met with the most radiant eye color she had ever seen.

Golden.

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#carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen angst #carlisle cullen smut #twilight imagine #edward cullen #alice cullen #jacob black #jasper hale #emmett cullen #rosalie hale #esme cullen #sam uley #quil ateara #embry call #paul lahote #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #fanfiction #carlisle cullen x reader #andreafmn #collision #charlie swan #billy black #slow burn #angst #fluff

[impalementation]

spike, angel, buffy & romanticism: part 1

I said a long ways back that I thought the switch from Angel to Spike as Buffy’s primary love interest represented an interesting evolution in the show’s attitude towards—and interrogation of—romanticism, and I finally felt like expanding on what I meant by that. This is very long, very meandering, and not terribly academic or well-edited, but I hope there’s something of interest in it nonetheless. It is about 20,000 words in total, and will discuss, in more or less chronological order, the arc of the show’s attitude towards romanticism as it is embodied in Spike, Angel, Buffy and Buffy’s relationships with both of them. I was going to release it as one long post, but because it’s so long, I figured a series of posts might be more readable. Here’s the first one.

* 

“When you kiss me I want to die”: Angel and the high school seasons

Both Spike and Angel are at once capital-R Romantic figures, and lower-case romantic interests, and in both cases that Romantic/romantic duality is what makes them such effective avatars for ideas around romanticism. In the case of Angel, the show is aware from the beginning that he is very much a Romantic idea of something. In “Welcome to the Hellmouth” Buffy describes him as “dark” and “gorgeous”, evoking the “tall, dark and handsome” cliche. He’s mysterious. He gives her a necklace and his coat, gestures out of high school romance fiction.* In “Out of Mind, Out of Sight” Giles lampshades the romance of him: “A vampire in love with a Slayer. It’s rather poetic, in a maudlin sort of way.” Initially, Angel is basically designed to be a teenage girl fantasy, and it’s no coincidence that his successors like Edward Cullen or Stefan Salvatore conform to similar tropes.

*(Think of how five seasons later, a vampire will give Dawn his letterman jacket in “All the Way”. It’s hard not to read as a deliberate echo of Angel’s gift in season one. Once again, a vampire makes romantic gestures towards a high school version of “Buffy”, and later turns on her. But more on this much later in the series.)

The difference between Angel and those other, more typical Supernatural Romance love interests however, is that the show ultimately attempts to subvert the romance of him. As part of its commentary on Gothic themes, season two makes Angel more Romantic than ever (the Claddagh, the tormented past), and makes the romance between him and Buffy central to the story in a way it wasn’t in season one. And then, of course, the season tears it all apart. The first time we learn what Angel did to Drusilla it’s horrifying, but still somehow abstract. Something that seems more like it’s meant to contribute to Angel’s dangerous, Byronic image. As in, something to make him more Romantic. And then suddenly it becomes real. Suddenly, it’s something that Angel could do to Buffy, or the people Buffy cares about. It turns out that his darkly romantic aura was not just an aura, but genuinely dark all along.

In turn, Angel’s devastating transformation is a metaphor for broader disillusionment about romantic ideas. It’s less to me about a “guy going bad after sex”, and more about what it means and feels like to have the scales fall from one’s eyes in that sort of situation. As Buffy copes with the fallout of Angel’s transformation, and later is forced to kill him, I see it as being about the tragedy of having to see the world in ways that are less simple, easy, or pretty as one gets older. As Buffy and Giles say in “Lie To Me”:

BUFFY: Nothing's ever simple anymore. I'm constantly trying to work it out. Who to love or hate. Who to trust. It's just, like, the more I know, the more confused I get. 

GILES: I believe that's called growing up. 

For more on this, I recommend this livejournal post on “Lie To Me”, which goes into great depth on the way season two frames stories as pretty lies that one needs to look beneath, and how Buffy’s romanticization of Angel symbolizes that.

The whole arc of the season is Buffy’s failure to see the danger presented by Angel. In this opening scene that danger is foreshadowed. More to the point for this essay, Angel goes on to lie to Buffy about having encountered Drusilla. He doesn’t want Buffy to know about the nature of Angelus – which means that his first inclination is to mask the danger he presents to Buffy. This is one episode after Halloween, where Buffy’s romantic fantasies about what Angel wants (a damsel) nearly get her killed. Nor is she completely over those fantasies, as she notes that the mystery woman talking to Angel had a pretty old-fashioned dress. So against the backdrop of Buffy’s fantasies about her dark and mysterious boyfriend we have the truth about what he is, which is quite horrifying.

Season three then takes this to another level, by not just pointing out the darkness of the romance of Angel, but in fact puncturing his romantic image. Instead of emphasizing his dangerousness, as season two did, season three emphasizes his adulthood. It emphasizes the way that Angel is someone Buffy sees in secret, or away from her friends. He’s not integrated with her teenage, high school life, and doesn’t fit with the peppy, high school movie aesthetic that characterizes a lot of season three. By doing this, the writing indicates that at this point in their lives, Buffy and Angel are ultimately incompatible and holding each other back. Regardless of however much they might care for each other, Angel can’t fully appreciate her teenage longings like dances, and college, and having a boyfriend. And Buffy can’t fully appreciate his adult need to find himself on his own terms. By the end of season three, Angel is less of a shadowy, tragic figure, and more just an adult man who needs to finally grow up a bit.

Season three also starts making jokes where the punchline is that Angel isn’t living up to the romantic aesthetic he embodied in seasons one and two. In “Helpless”, for example, he and Buffy have an exchange where he waxes sincerely about wanting to “keep [her heart] safe, to warm it with [his own]” and although Buffy says the sentiment is beautiful, a second later she deadpans: “Or taken literally, incredibly gross.” To which Angel replies, “I was just thinking that, too.” Or in “Graduation Day, Part 1”, Angel trips on a doorway instead of making a silent entrance and Buffy again deadpans: “Stealthy.” Angel’s romance slips at moments when Buffy herself is feeling weak, either because she has lost her Slayer powers, or she’s investigating the scene of her sister Slayer’s crime. Her Romantic Slayer half is betraying her, and her romantic girlish half is feeling insecure. This is echoed by the reminder that Angel is no longer a straightforward fantasy man--or a terrifying, larger-than-life villain--but a guy who is sometimes both verbally and physically inelegant. 

(Notice how one of the few times season two makes similar jokes about Angel it’s in “Lie to Me”, the very same episode that begins to peel off the layers of deceptions and unknowns about him. Angel slumps around Willow’s bedroom and jokes about “honing [his] brooding skills”, he insists that the vampire wannabes know nothing about vampires right before a guy walks by wearing his exact outfit, and Xander runs color commentary, saying “you’re not wrong” after each of Ford’s observations. In “Lie to Me” one of Angel’s hidden faces is his dangerousness, yes. But another hidden face is simply his human awkwardness.)

There’s an interesting Slayage piece by Elizabeth Gilliland that discusses the idea of Angel as a Gothic double for Buffy, specifically connecting him to the story of Jekyll and Hyde. It argues that Angel’s split identities represent Buffy’s fears that her human and Slayer halves are irreconcilable, and she cannot fully control either half. In season three, the fact that Buffy and Angel must continuously resist a loss of control with each other, and are treated as romantically incompatible, reflects this fear. 

In Season Three, replete with various factors in Buffy’s life that threaten to put her role as Slayer and girl into imbalance once more [...] Angel once again returns [...]. The season culminates in an attempted attack on Buffy’s classmates during graduation, which essentially forces her to “out” herself to her community and combine her roles as Slayer and daughter, classmate, and friend for the first time publicly (“Graduation Day: Part 2” 3.22). The worst has happened: her secret has been revealed, the entire school knows about both of her personas, and she has not only survived, but emerged with a stronger sense of self [...] Buffy has conquered her first Gothic fear, and proven to herself that she can not only exercise control over both dualities of her persona, but allow them to peacefully co-exist. Thus, Angel’s continuing struggle with Angelus can no longer act as her shadow, and he literally and metaphorically leaves her to continue the rest of her journey.

It’s an interpretation I mostly agree with, and see a lot of evidence for. But in keeping with the focus of this series, I think you could also read Angel as embodying a duality between the romantic and the unromantic. In this view, Buffy’s struggle between her human and her Slayer halves is not just a struggle between personas, but a struggle to see the world correctly. In season one, it’s not Angel that revives Buffy in “Prophecy Girl”, because Angel is a vampire trope just like the Master. He cannot help her, because he is exactly the kind of traditional romantic concept--like a candle-lit cavern, an ancient Nosferatu-looking vampire, or a Chosen Hero duty--that Buffy is trying to escape. In season two, loss of control is specifically associated with passion, romance, and romanticism. Buffy’s human half longs for the romantic, but her Slayer half, and Angel’s vampire half, prove that sometimes the romantic is something dangerous and violent. The fact that Buffy’s Slayer identity and Angel’s Angelus identity both end up being outed by the end of the season (especially to Joyce, a figure of Buffy’s human home life), echoes Buffy’s loss of innocence. Season three then continues this suspicion of passion. Buffy fears that like Faith, enjoying the violence and power and desire of being a Slayer, means that she will go down a dark path. She also fears that indulging in her sexual and romantic desire for Angel will unleash Angelus. To some extent, these fears are even borne out, given that her love for Angel results in her attempted murder of Faith, and near death at Angel’s hands. But to some extent they also aren’t, given that she, Faith and Angel all live. 

To me, what really gets resolved at the end of season three is not quite the issue of Buffy’s human and Slayer halves, given that Buffy will continue to struggle with that duality until the end of the show. Rather, what gets resolved is the need for binaries. Binaries are romantic things. When Giles gives his speech to Buffy at the end of “Lie To Me”, it is the language of binaries that he uses:

GILES: Yes, it's terribly simple. The good guys are always stalwart and true, the bad guys are easily distinguished by their pointy horns or black hats, and, uh, we always defeat them and save the day. No one ever dies, and everybody lives happily ever after. 

BUFFY: Liar.

In season three, Buffy thinks she must resist both Faith and Angel. She thinks she can only be either a human girl or a Slayer leader. Many plots in season three have to do with the danger of binaries, whether that’s the witch-hunting parents in “Gingerbread”, Willow dealing with her vampire self in “Doppelgangland”, the various alter-egos in “Beauty and the Beasts”, or Cordy choosing a Buffy-less world in “The Wish”. And no character in the Buffyverse embodies the concept of binaries so starkly as Angel does. Thus by the end of season three, Buffy collapses the binaries within herself by merging the human and Slayer parts of her life, as Gilliland observes, and taking on Faith’s traits. She acknowledges her shadow by kissing her tenderly on the forehead, and bids farewell to the illusions and binaries that Angel embodies. Buffy is leaving that part of her life behind, and starting a new chapter where she can no longer split either the world, or herself, into any one thing or another.

part 2: “Love isn’t brains, children”: Enter Spike as the id

#romanticism series #buffy #angel #s1 #s2 #s3 #s6 #gen #spike #btvs

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•The Grey Area•

Part One: •Fallen Angel•

Summary: You're Enji Todoroki's prized possession, his Angel. Given this name because of your pure, white wings. Your quirk is truly unique, until you come face to face with Enji's new friend and hit man, Hawks. His presence shakes you, his abilities intimidate you. The roll he plays in your life? That's up in the air.

Pairing: Keigo Takami x FemReader, Endeavor x FemReader

Warnings: Violence, mentions of death, descriptions of death, sexual themes and implications, mentions of harassment, (Eventual smut, as well as other warnings- they will be at the beginning of each chapter.)

Word Count: 4,471

A/N: I'm gonna write this shit til I get sick of writing it. Not to suck my own dick but I am in love with this story idea so we're just gonna keep rolling til it feels right to end it lmao.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Silk may be the worst material ever invented. It slips and slides and hides absolutely nothing. Your lungs deflate as you slide your hands down the front of the horrid thing you've been asked to wear. It was laid out on your bed for you, with a small note that said, "Get dolled up for me." It isn't signed, it doesn't need to be.

It's a note from the man that more or less owns you. He likes to say he takes care of you, you like to say he holds your leash. At the end of the day, coming to him was what you needed to do to survive, so you did it. You shake the thoughts of how you came to be here from your head, ignoring the dreadful remnants of a time when you were desperate enough to turn to him for protection.

Enji Todoroki lives one of the most complex double lives in existence. He’s a magnificent hero, topping the charts and staying there. He saves lives, lets his flames shine bright, he's a beacon of hope.

He’s also an incredibly feared underground crime lord. When the flames are off, he's no longer heroic, he's no longer honorable. He's bloodthirsty, his friends are few and his enemies are many.

Keeping these two realms separate is quite the task, but he pulls it off with his vast wealth and by calling in the seemingly limitless favors from those he’s helped out of sticky situations.

The supposedly heroic faces you’ve seen slinking around his estate were jarring at first. The mighty do indeed fall, and they tumble right into his lap. They’re always after something, a loan, various narcotics, maybe some illegal steroids to increase their performances.

Enji loves a bargain, he loves to string those poor saps along until they’re too confused to agree to anything that’s reasonable. It’s horribly entertaining, as backwards as it all is, you’ve grown fond of the way he befuddles every hopeless individual that finds themselves desperate enough to seek out his help.

Usually, you’re there by his side. You block out the conversation as you serve drinks, laugh at the bad jokes, and most of all, look pretty. Your job is to be his greatest manipulation tactic. Give the suckers something to drool at, get them drunk, stay out of the way so Enji can lock in whatever deal he’s making.

You ruffle your hair, straighten your dress, and take one final glance in your mirror.

There’s a familiar tightness in your chest when you acknowledge the real reason you’re used as something to gawk at.

Your wings.

Two broad, unruly, attention grabbing, white wings emerging from your shoulder blades. Little speckles of brown and black exist among the sea of white feathers that fall all the way to the floor. The feathers at the tips always look pitiful, since their entire existence is spent dragging the floor.

They’re useless things, heavy and cumbersome and completely nonfunctional. You could probably fly if you wanted to, if somebody would teach you. You never stood a chance at that though, your parents couldn’t even begin to do so, and Enji certainly won’t waste energy on it. No, he likes having you on the ground. Safe and sound, much more convenient to keep you without a cage.

The bones of them often ache, obviously needing to be used, desperate to do their job. They most resemble the wings of a Barn Owl. Along with the wings, your quirk provides you with exceptional vision and hearing. Sometimes it feels like a sixth sense, like you can tell when things are going to happen before they actually do.

This, of course, makes you invaluable to Enji during his meetings. You’re able to pick up on nervous ticks, listen to the whispers, and tip him off. He does love keeping you around for that, you’ve assisted him innumerable times, and he always rewards so generously. He keeps you comfortable, spoiled even, anything for his Angel.

Enji’s Angel.

It was never very official, he just started calling you by it, and you started answering to it. In your younger years it was almost affectionate, slightly comforting. Now, it’s a scarlet letter, a stage name, belonging to somebody who doesn’t quite exist.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The meeting is absolute torture. Some schmuck is sitting across from you and Enji, blubbering his way through some bullshit about how he’ll have the money next week. You’re perched on Enji’s lap, reclining against his chest with your chin up high.

You’re all sitting around a large oak coffee table in Enji’s office, drinks in hands, guns in holsters.

“I swear, the guy I know, he owes me, he says he’ll have the money by this weekend, maybe even sooner!” The sniffling client begs. He’s a pitiful little man, all short and greasy looking, with bulbous eyes that sit above a large aquiline nose.

“Oh, how reassuring, my money is in the hands of a friend of a liar,” Enji sneers, voice low and menacing, “Doesn’t that put you at ease, Angel?” His hand snakes around your waist, making his claim on you evident to everyone in the room.

The client brought two goons with him, both sit on the lavish loveseat, watching with putrid envy as Enji’s hands roam across your middle.

You run your hand up his massive chest, making a show of adjusting your hips in his lap. You flash your eyes up to his and roll your shoulders, wings rippling as you do. The room is taken over by a heavy, consuming silence.

You survey Enji’s face, void of flames for such a serious event. You hear hearts beat faster, breathing quicken, idiots, every one of them.

“No, I don’t think it does, sir.” You purr, hand playing with the collar of his grey dress shirt.

This whole charade used to make your skin crawl, feeling eyes burn into your flesh, knowing that if Enji weren’t here you’d be laid out on the table while the pigs around you took turns.

You expressed this once, crying and shaking as you begged Enji to stop bringing you into them. His only response was to demand that you tell him whenever somebody was making you uncomfortable, and he would gladly take care of it.

It only took one client, one dense motherfucker who put his hand on your thigh. The second his hand was on you, Enji put a bullet in his head. You watched the blood splatter, and the body hit the floor, but ripped your eyes away after that. You turned into Enji’s chest, clutching him as you realised it was all your doing, Enji had killed for you.

Since then, you vowed to maintain a facade of confidence in these meetings. If Enji were to kill, it would be because of his own corrupted motives, not for you, never again.

You no longer let the bile rise in your throat, you don’t look away from any perverse gaze. You keep your nerves steady, and you stare the bastards down.

One of the goons shifts in their seat, making Enji shoot him a warning glance as you continue to fiddle with his shirt.

“I don’t think it’s wise to leave so much money up to ‘maybe’ and ‘this guy’.” You sigh as you slide off Enji’s lap, keeping your hand on his chest as you slink around to stand behind him. He gives you a knowing look, full of admiration and pride, he does love watching you perform.

Show time.

You flutter your wings out to the sides, stretching them, making a spectacle of them. All three of the men watch with comically amazed expressions. Their jaws may as well be on the floor, you slide your hands onto Enji’s broad shoulders so you can rub small circles into his muscles.

“I agree, I don’t like all this ‘maybe’ bullshit.” the energy in the room thickens as he speaks, falling into heavy silence in reverence of the power his voice exudes.

"Angel, will you grab us some more drinks?" You draw yourself up tall, ignoring the eyes that gorge on your decolletage.

"Yes Sir." You lean down to place a sweet kiss on Enji's cheek, flashing a little too much skin for his guests.

"Isn't she lovely, gentlemen?" He wonders out loud, looking up at you fondly.

No, not fondly, possessively, greedily. There's no loving tenderness that comes with fondness.

The men nod quietly, all afraid to cross a line, none willing to speak out of turn.

"Do a spin for them, sweetheart." He grabs your wrist and pulls you around to his side.

Your cheeks and ears run hot as he lifts your arm for you to spin, leaving space for your wings. You give a smooth twirl, feathers and dress flowing around you with a subtle woosh.

"Men would kill for her, don't you think?" Another round of silent nods, another wave of tense energy.

"I have." It's a warning, loud and clear.

He waves his hand in your direction, dismissive and bored.

"Go on, Angel. I have to have a private word with our guests." You glide out of the room gracefully, walking slowly enough so they can all watch you leave.

You swallow the terrible feelings rising in your gut, knowing damn well how rarely people leave that room alive after a "private word". You find your way to the kitchen easily, a tray of drinks already prepared on the fine granite countertop.

Enji's estate is nothing short of magnificent, all expensive foreign materials, gold fixtures and crystal chandeliers. All supplied by his mass of illegally acquired wealth.

One of the sweet little maids nods at you, gawking at your wings as always. You have a strange relationship with the staff at the house, they always treat you like some skittish animal. Afraid that you're unpredictable, even dangerous.

It's always seemed odd to you, but you've grown to understand it. None of them know where you came from, nor how you ended up in Enji's good graces, let alone a cherished prize to him.

On your way back down the hall, you hear the shouting of men, not an usual occurrence, but this time it makes your blood run cold. It sounds much more… painful, then usual. Cries for help mixed with curses and strangled yells. You freeze when the door rattles with such force, the only explanation can be that a body was thrown against it.

Then, there's silence. Silence, followed by sick laughter. You know Enji's voice too well, his rich tone fills your ears, but there's one other. Did he have an accomplice? It's not uncommon for Enji to have all his bases covered, so it's possible one of the goons was a double agent.

Your feet find their function again and you pad quietly towards the door. You take a second to breathe deeply, preparing yourself for the inevitable bloodshed you're about to witness.

You rap your knuckles on the door very quietly, wouldn't want to disturb the dead.

"Angel? Is that you?" Enji's voice calls as his laughter settles, the other man went silent as soon as your hand met the wood of the door.

"Yes sir." You say, trying to keep your voice soft but still wanting to be heard.

"Oh shit, get this out of the way."

A body.

You hear something slide then drop, and your chest squeezes with guilt. One day you won't have these feelings, one day seeing someone drop dead will evoke no more feeling than watching dead hair fall to the ground after it's trimmed. At least, that's what Enji tells you.

The door cracks open, a wall of a human standing on the other side of it. Enji beams down at you, the smallest amount of blood decorates his gray collar.

"Why do you always get so messy when I leave?" You tease, despite the sick feeling in your gut.

"It's a messy business." He counters, holding the door for you to step into the room. You expect the slit throats, the smell of blood, and the horrid joy in Enji's face. What you don't expect, is the creature poised in the corner of the room.

A creature with wings. No, not a creature, a man. With menacing, vibrant, crimson wings. His face is nothing but sharp serious lines, highlights of gold with intense shadows. He's covered in slim fitting black clothing, giving him a tactical and militant look.

He looks so powerful, and so beautiful. The only thing you can think to compare him to is a fallen angel, heavenly, but haunting.

In his hands, he holds a… sword? Then he steps further into view, and you see the blade shift. A feather. With a smooth, deadly twitch of his wrist, he flicks the rigid feather. It sends blood splattering across the floor where he stands.

His glowing eyes watch you, waiting for you to react, maybe waiting for you to scream, run away and hide. You can't, though, you're entranced. He has wings. Your own twitch behind your back, suddenly feeling even more cumbersome and useless after seeing how athletic and beautiful his own are.

As gruesome as the scene is, he's magnificent, stunning in such an overwhelming way. His eyes rake over your body, but it doesn't feel perverse, it feels like he's sizing you up, estimating your abilities.

Because he is.

"Angel, this is Hawks, he's a very good friend of mine." Enji explains, relaxing back into his chair as you and Hawks continue to watch each other.

You would never know it, but his breath hitched the second he saw you. Enji had told him about his Angel, but his description did you no justice. To Hawks, at least, you look capable, intimidating even. Your wings are equal in size to his, but compared to your smaller frame they look so fierce.

Neither of you has seen or heard of someone with a quirk like yours, or even remotely similar. So you stand there, amazed, in fear, sizing each other up.

"Isn't she something?" Enji's voice pulls you out of your trance, your eyes finally breaking from his friend's.

Hawks just hums, eyes still locked on your form as you set the tray of drinks down in front of Enji. He pours one for himself, then one for you, and one for Hawks. You take a glance around at the gore surrounding you, and shake your head at the drink.

"Not tonight, I'm tired." You try to sell it as best you can, but Enji sees right through you.

"Her stomach isn't very strong yet, sensitive little thing." He says to Hawks.

When you glance over to him, his reaction unsettles you. He grins, a broad, breathtaking thing. He's amused, embarrassed for you. How silly of you to be so bothered by a fucking murder scene.

Aside from the dead bodies, you can't stand another second under the predatory gaze of Enji's new friend. The whole scene makes you more uncomfortable than anything has in a long while. It's very apparent by Enji's lack of weapons, and by Hawks' feral appearance, that Hawks is some kind of hit man.

"Get some rest, then." Enji says dismissively.

You kiss him on the cheek, earning a rare smile from his usual straight lips. There's no affection behind your kiss, but there is loyalty, and he knows that.

Doing your best not to seem like you're in a rush, you keep your head down and walk steadily towards the door.

"Nice to meet you, Angel." His voice is like caramel syrup, dripping over you and heating you up.

You hate it.

You give him nothing but a turse nod then duck out the door, trying to keep your heart in it's cage, trying to keep your hands from shaking. What the hell was that?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

You spend some time in the library before heading to bed. The fireplace crackles and pops, casting beautiful, dancing lights on the dark oak bookshelves. It's not a massive library, but it's decent. Full of books that have been collected by Enji, but not read. You do the reading, he does the acquiring.

Not tonight, though. Tonight you just sit, you sit and overthink. You can't seem to shake the uneasy feeling this "Hawks" character gave you. He was so primal looking, so unhinged, so… beastly.

The contrast of his beauty is what keeps punching you in the gut. He was nothing short of stunning, like a marble statue brought to life by an enchantress. That's even without his wings. God, his wings. He must look spectacular in the air, so majestic.

You stuff the thought down, deep down. The longing in your chest is enough to make your eyes sting with tears. Flying. A feeling you've never known, but the instinct burns beneath your skin. You wonder if even knows how lucky he is…

You grab onto those thoughts before they run away, standing to your feet with a stretch and a ruffle of your own wings.

You just need sleep, you need to shake this off. Enji has plenty of "friends", plenty of lowlifes and murderers that he keeps close. Hawks is no different, he'll linger for a bit, then disappear under mysterious circumstances, and you'll never hear his name again.

The thought should bring your comfort as you travel to your bedroom, but as you wander through the halls, your chest aches. Somehow, the idea of not knowing all you can about this stranger makes you itch. Which in turn, makes you detest his presence even more. There's no reason for such a fascination… aside from your resemblance to him.

The sound of your bedroom door latching behind you does bring you some piece, lifting some of the weight off of your lungs. Until you hear the slightest ruffle echo from the direction of your window.

The hair on your neck stands on end as you draw your wings up to their full size. Your shoulders are rigid, fists clenched as you whip your head around to identify the sound.

"Do you always sleep with the door unlocked?" That sugary voice falls on your ears once again, raising goosebumps all over your body.

You don't answer, you only watch, inching backwards towards the door. There could be only one reason one of Enji's friends would corner you like this, the thought makes your heart beat to the point of nearly breaking through your chest.

He's perched on your windowsill, feet dangling into the room, wings relaxed behind him as the wind catches his scarlet feathers. The curtains away around him as they catch the cool breeze, the whole scene gives him an almost ghostly look, especially with the pale light of the moon as the only illumination in your bedroom.

"Easy, kid." He slides off lazily, arms crossed as he saunters towards you, "I just wanted to talk."

His lips quirk up into an easy smirk, something that makes your insides stir.

"Talk quick, then get out." You snap, pressing your back against the door, drawing your wings in around yourself protectively as your arms wrap around your chest. He stops nearly a foot from you, his own wings spread wide, almost like he's showing off.

The energy is thick, pressing on your lungs as you watch his face. He looks down his nose at you, not judging, but observing. His eyes are lit with a patient look, something soft but relatively unreadable. His proximity overwhelms you, even up close, you're hard pressed to find a single flaw.

There you stand, shrouded in scarlet, him in white. Both waiting for the other to speak, or move, or even breathe. Desperate for some evidence that you were both real and not some apparition sent to mock your poor mortal brain with an image of unparalleled perfection.

Wild, dazzling, gilded eyes search your face. Predatory pupils slit as he takes in every detail he can. His chest rises, and he speaks. He utters a simple, "They're beautiful." and everything shatters.

A cadence of feelings builds within your chest, tuning up like an orchestra. All unorganized noise, arching and mixing, impossible to focus on anything in particular.

Then the most beautiful part, the settling of the chaos. All of the instruments find their notes as they fade out. The anticipatory silence settles within you, preparing you for the moment when they all roll into the first cord of their symphony.

You don't feel right taking the name Angel, not after this, not after you've seen one. Your reverence for his beauty is short lived, though. As soon as you remember the way his eyes were wild with bloodlust, the way he had taken lives with his own feathers.

Admiration is replaced with apprehension. However, the strongest feeling is curiosity, morbid, forbidden curiosity.

You shove the compliment to the far corners of your brain, ignoring the fire it stokes in your heart.

"Talk or leave." You say shortly.

"Not a fan of flattery?" He asks, quirking a thick eyebrow.

"Not a fan of coercion." You reply, arms drawing tighter around your chest.

Hawks pauses for a moment, considering your answer.

"What are you a fan of?" His smile grows a bit more as he turns away from you on his heels, looking almost bored. You stay glued to your door, wrapped around yourself, completely frozen.

"Well, I'm usually a fan of not having my room invaded by murderers." You sneer, attempting to ignore the way his body moves so elegantly as he investigates your room with fabricated intrigue.

He scoffs a bit at your feisty retort, looking over his shoulder to give you quick up and down with his eyes. He wanders back to the window, back to you as he takes a look out.

"A murderer. That's a bold accusation, sweetheart." He turns around again, backlit by the moonlight.

"Can you use em'?" He asks, nodding behind you.

The question bites at your insides, it twists your guts up onto angry knots.

You shake your head, you can't say it out loud, you can't admit it.

His face falls the slightest bit, less amused, more aware. Perhaps he feels sympathy, imagining a life without the freedom of flight.

"I see." He says quietly, "A dove?" He wonders out loud.

His prying starts to eat at your patience, you already feel intruded upon by him sneaking into your bedroom, and now he wants to dissect your anatomy? Yet, you still find yourself drawn to the conversation, hanging on his words, hoping to gain information about him in exchange for information about yourself.

"Owl." You say simply, easing off the door a little so you can spread your wings some, "The markings give it away."

He nods, taking in the messy brown and black speckles at the tips.

"How did you do that with your feather?" You ask, works spilling out a little too fast.

Both of his eyebrows shoot up, surprised by your sudden engagement in the conversation.

His only reply is by drawing himself up by his shoulders. Then, miraculously, one of his feathers flies from his wing, darting straight for you until it pauses in front of your face. You flinch slightly before it pauses, then you stand transfixed, watching the small crimson blade levitate before you.

You want to reach out and grab it, find the string that's holding it up, find the answer to this magic trick.

"Pretty cool, huh?" He says, full of confidence as he sways back over to you, "You can touch it." He says gently.

So you do, you take it into your hand gently. The texture is shocking, it's soft and silky, much more pleasant than your coarse and textured feathers.

"How?" You ask, amazed by his abilities.

He shrugs and turns around again, pacing back to the window. You take a mental note of his inability to stand still for longer than a few seconds.

"I just… can." He says it so matter of fact, like it's the obvious answer.

Now that he's more relaxed, not holding a feather dripping with blood, he seems almost... Friendly? He certainly seems less frightening, less aggressive and formidable.

You hold the feather in your palms, waiting for the next trick.

"Keep it." He says as he settles back down onto the windowsill, sitting like he was when you first found him.

He stretches an arm around to brace on the outside of the window frame, leaning back into the open air of the night. For a brief moment you panic, knowing you're on the third floor, but then you just feel stupid for being concerned for a person with functioning wings.

"Why?" You ask, closing in your hands as you look up at him.

His smile is devilish, he rolls his shoulders back and lifts himself up to his feet. He crowds the large window, filling it with his lean body and those powerful wings.

"In case you need me." He winks and gives you a lazy, two finger salute before letting himself fall away into the sky.

Your chest lurches as you dart to the window, desperate to see him in action, desperate to see someone fly.

By the time you reach the window, though, he's nowhere to be seen. Evaporated into the stars, not even the sound of beating wings left as evidence.

You glance down at the feather in your hands, and notice it twitch to life before it floats up to hover in front of your face again. Your chest fills with an absolute mess of unorganized, chaotic feelings that you can't even begin to pull apart and make sense of.

The feather flicks under your chin, tickling the skin there with its pointed tip. You snatch it roughly, irritated with the teasing, perturbed by his nonchalance. You slam the window shut before huffing over to your dresser, you rip a drawer open and shove the feather between your clothes.

You slam it shut as the raging sea of emotions beats against your chest, drowning your lungs as well as any cognitive brain function.

You can't make sense of any of this shit, you can't imagine how anyone could have ever made it up to your room without Enji's knowledge. Unless… he was let up… but that doesn't make any sense. None of it does. It's all so cloudy, you feel thousands of questions swarm your brain, and you don't possess a single answer.

The only thing you know for sure, is that you have to find out more about this fallen angel, you have to find out more about Hawks.

#takami keigo #my hero academia #hawks #hawks au #my hero au #my hero smut #hawks angst #mha hawks #my hero hawks #keigo takami #Keigo #keigo x you #hawks x you #hawks series #keigo takami smut #hawks smut

[hypnomicimagines]

☂️Rainy Day Blues☂️[Nurude Sasara]☂️

Oh, how tragedy loved to strike Sasara when he least expected it.

He had been walking to your house with an extra pep in his step, the fresh bouquet he’d picked up along the way only lifting his mood. He was stuck in daydreams even before he reached you, thinking about how lovely you’d look that night and how he couldn’t wait to do the little things like hold your hand as you were on the way to your date destination. He thought that nothing could possibly dampen his happiness, that him finally confessing after years of being in relationship purgatory had made him see the brighter side of any situation, but it seemed he still had blinders on in some aspects. His parade was about to be rained on.

Literally.

Sasara didn’t know where the icy rain had come from but it hit him like a sack of bricks, goosebumps rising on his skin as his leisurely walk turned into a marathon run as he made his way to your apartment complex. He hadn’t checked the weather forecast, who did that anymore? Clearly Sasara’s hubris had upset the weather Gods as he caught sight of himself in a window, no longer looking like your handsome suitor but a sad clown that had just walked through a door with a bucket of water precariously balanced on top of it. The bouquet is just as pathetic as he is, and hey, aren’t flowers supposed to like water? Why were they drooping like that? You’d probably laugh in his face when you saw them.

You did.

He had to get you back somehow for laughing at his plight despite the fact your laughter had quickly washed away every negative emotion he’d previously been feeling. He had to get you back somehow and decided to show you his best ‘wet dog’ impersonation, shaking his hair out in your doorway and giving you a little preview of what it was like outside. The rain had only started to come down harder, thunder and lightning being added to the mix, meaning it was unlikely the date would continue as planned. Not to mention his hair which he had spent an entire three minutes and seven seconds on was now a poofed out mess due to how he chose to dry out his hair, not that you seemed to mind. You laughed again at his saggy bouquet, telling him you loved it no matter how pathetic it looked (he hoped that was the last time he ever heard that).

“We can just spend the night in. Why do you look so excited that I said that? Did you think I’d tell you to walk home?”

“I’d never accuse you of something so cold-hearted!”

“Good, I’m glad to see the rain hasn’t washed away your remaining brain cell. Come in and change your clothes, too, as much as I love seeing you be a complete eyesore, I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

“Shouldn’t you stripping me of my clothes wait until after dinner? Not that I mind.”

“You know what… Maybe walking home in the rain is just what you need. Maybe you’ll get struck by lightning and have some sort of epiphany that’ll make you funny.”

“Now you really sound like Rosho,” Sasara sighed out, fighting the smile that wanted to break out on his face so he could keep up the ‘hurt’ façade he was putting on, “To think that the person I love most would say such things to me… I’ll go back outside to hide my tears!”

“Bye.”

You closed the door behind him as he stepped into your apartment, heading straight to your bedroom and thinking about how he had essentially done a speed run of the date. He hadn’t suspected he’d be here until a little bit later but he couldn’t say he was complaining as you joined him, digging through your drawers for some spare clothes that he had left behind the various other times he’d stayed over on a whim. He purposely left his clothes with you just so you’d always have something to remember him by, weaseling his way into your heart first and now your home, hoping that he might even get a whole draw just for his stuff one day. His apartment was certainly the winner with its scenic view but since you had yet to talk about the whole ‘moving in’ thing, he decided he’d get you used to the idea by leaving random things of his behind so you were used to it when it finally did happen.

“Here you go.” You set the clothes down on the counter, taking a second to admire how cute he looked with a wet mop of hair on his head, reaching over to run your fingers through it just for good measure, “I’d say take a shower but I don’t actually want you struck by lightning.”

“But you seem to like my hair so much… It could become a permanent fixture with the help of electricity.”

“I do like it,” You confirmed, smiling as you stroked his hair fondly, Sasara’s heart pounding loudly in his chest, “Almost as much as I like you. Get changed while I try to find some candles. I can’t imagine we’re going to have power too long so…”

You spoke the unfortunate lightning strike into existence that completely knocked out anything electrical in the apartment building and part of Sasara wonders if you had spoken the rain into existence, too. Had this been your plan all along? Had you wanted to just trap him in your room from the get-go, using him for your own needs and then discarding him afterward? Sasara considered suggesting that type of supervillain roleplay on a less romantic night but for now his head was still in the clouds, wanting to do simple things like hold your hand and cuddle against you, sucking the warmth out of you as he had no spare warmth to give at this point.

“Y-You’re cold!” Sasara had reached out to touch you when the lights had first gone out, wanting to assure you were still there and okay first, “Just be careful as you get changed! I’ll be right back!”

You’re only gone about ten minutes but it’s so painfully lonely in the bathroom without you, Sasara already thinking about the letter he’d write to you if you had gone off to war. He would be the lonely maiden waiting by the window, longing to see their love again, dramatically falling to the ground as he received the news that you had passed away. He was already thinking about how he’d meet your ghost in the afterlife to confirm he never fell in love again when you entered the bathroom, face highlighted by a small candle that he’s almost positive he had gifted you.

“Come on, come on! It’s a little better in the living room and the blankets are all out.” You moved the candle to one hand and reached down to grab his, fingers lacing together without words having to even be exchanged. “I don’t want you getting lost.”

“The only place I’ll get lost is in your eyes, beautiful.”

“Have I ever told you that you’re lucky you’re cute? Because you’re sooo lucky you’re cute!” He can tell from your tone that there’s a wide smile on your face, the one that made him feel like the most successful comedian in the world. Getting you to laugh was no easy task and you had never been one to show him even a dollop of mercy when it came to his material but it made it all the more worth it when he got to hear you laugh. Every time you laughed an angel grew its wings, that’s how the saying went, right? It doesn’t matter as his brain is entirely centered around you and only you, especially as the two of you seat yourselves on your ridiculously comfortable couch.

“I don’t know what we’ll eat… It’s gonna be cold and sad.”

“As long as we’re not cold and sad, it’s fine, right?”

“Fair enough.”

His arm wrapped around you as you threw your legs across his lap, the blanket quickly following suit as you curled up into his side. You wondered how many people would be surprised that Mr. Tragic Comedy was not only a total romantic but a stage five clinger, unlikely to give you a moment alone now that you had both finally settled in together. Sasara valued his privacy from time to time but when it came to you, it seemed his social battery could never run out; he wanted to be around you, to be with you, to be touching you and talking to you as much as he possibly could.

“What should we do?” Sasara quickly grew uncomfortable with the silence and you felt bad for your boyfriend, knowing his anxiety tended to spike in the silence. You wished you had something to act as white noise in the background but it seemed all you could do to distract him was talk, or listen to a slew of jokes that would have you standing in the rain rather than being in your own apartment if they were on par with the normal puns he liked to deliver.

“Tell me about your day before you got here. Did you talk to Rosho about your birthday plans?”

Sasara is grateful for the conversation starter as once he’s begun to talk, he’s adept at not shutting up again.  

It was going to be a long, rainy night, but at least you got to spend it together.

#Nurude Sasara #Sasara Nurude #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypmic #Hypnomic #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypmic x Reader #hypnomic x reader #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypmic Imagines #Hypnomic Imagines #Nurude Sasara x Reader #Sasara Nurude x Reader #Scenario

[what-the--curtains]

In A Week

Part 4/4 - This Feeling

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: With the wedding day finally here will your true feeling be revealed or will you leave the way you started? As nothing more than strangers.

Authors Notes: THE FINALE (for now??), this story was so nice to write and all y’all r angels for just reading it let alone liking/sharing it (really i could cry💕🌻💕) so thank you🥺🥺

Song used in Story: This feeling - Alabama Shakes (highly rec u listen!!)

Tw: swearing, drinking, allusions to sex and past toxic relationships.

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Words: 2.0k

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Day 5

A thunk followed by the unmistakable beeping of the snowplows working hard at clearing away the snow from the roads and parking lots wake you. You let out a disappointed sigh when you notice the distinct lack of Frankie beneath you. Almost as if on cue he walks in with a bottle of champagne, orange juice and two glasses.

“Are you ready to get wasted?” he says, as you shift up in bed.

“On one condition.” you offer smacking your lips mouth tasting like morning.

“Which is?” He asks, tilting his head.

“We get fully dressed up for this wedding. I didn't spend hours contemplating outfits to not put one on.” you barter, prepared to fight with him to get what you wanted.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, much to your surprise “that tux was not cheap, and it was supposed to be back two days ago, so not getting that deposit back. Should we call the brides to be before we start drinking?”

“Probably a good call,” After multiple phone calls and various congratulations you found out they were going to be live streaming the ceremony for all the people stranded by the storm. You and Frankie have a lazy morning before it's finally time to get ready, you stand up swaying slightly from the few drinks you'd already downed. Frankie takes the suit into the bathroom giving you the room to change and to do your hair and makeup. You go to pull out your dress and as you do the lingerie you’d packed falls out onto the floor. Your heart drops for a moment before deciding to put it on, not for Jonathan, or even Frankie, but for yourself. You pull on the light pink velvet mini dress you’d settled on, and sling on the black open toe heels. Walking into the kitchen you pour yourself a glass of wine. You hear him clear his throat and you turn around. You're taken aback by how well Frankie cleaned up, no hat, hair styled and a perfectly fitted suit.

When Frankie enters the room, he stops in his tracks, continuing to stare when you turn to face him. If this had been at the wedding, he’s sure he’d have picked you out of the crowd instantly. He’d probably have spent the whole night hoping you'd talk to him only getting upset when you didn't even give him a second glance.

“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, breaking the silence first, beyond pleased at how he’d managed to impress you.

“Something like that” you offer, handing him a beer

“Well, we’re in luck because I was specifically told to provide drinking games for the reception, so” he says pulling out some red solo cups and ping pong balls from his bag.

“Who's bad with their hands now” he asks as he sinks another cup, winning 4 consecutive games.

“No fair! You’re cheating.” you say with a humph.

“I'm not, your technique’s just sloppy and lacking strategy” He mocks.

“I have a strategy” You state defensively, mouth open in faux anger.

“Flashing yourself in an attempt to distract me, isn't a strategy” he says licking his lips as his smile turns into a full blown smirk

“Excuse me.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest shifting your stance and arching an eyebrow, challenging him.

“Oh I'm sorry, is that not what you're doing?” he chides, smirk still prominent.

“Well it use to work” you mutter, embarrassed at having been called out

“Ya on idiots who can't control themselves come here, I'll show you to sink it everytime,” you walk over and he positions himself behind you, he's close enough that you can feel his chest heaving slowly behind you.

“Relax your arms” he says, shaking them out for you. “Okay this arm, drop it, keep it relaxed, only use it for balance if needed. This arm..” he says grabbing your wrist “ this is where the action is, alright keep your elbow locked, none of that wobbly shit I saw earlier. It's all about the flick and the follow through, keep it strong.” He watches as you repeat the motions without his hand guiding you and it goes in. You turn around and lift your arms up victoriously, they quickly find their way around Frankies neck and he lifts you up off the ground, faces dangerously close when he puts you back down on the ground.

“We should order a pizza, I think some places are open” you say quickly turning to your phone and ordering something from wherever it was open.

After watching the ceremony, you're sitting on the counter laughing as Frankie proves to you he can in fact eat an entire piece of pizza in three bites.

“Told you” he says

“Well consider me out witted” your phone beeps, you turn it over assuming its Stella or Santi or Gen but it's not. It's John the second you see his name pop up on your phone your stomach drops. Frankie sees the change in your demeanour, everything about you suddenly appearing small. Frankie grabs the phone from your hands “I swore an oath to prevent shitty guys from ruining the party tonight”

“How did you…? Whose orders? Did Santi tell you?”

“Maybe. Holy ….” Frankie says eyes wide when he accidentally sees the message that has been sent to you.

“What?” you ask, afraid at what he’d just seen.

“Nothing!” he lies, shaking his head blinking hard to get the image out of his head.

“Now you have to tell me!” you say hopping off from the counter and making your way towards him. Reaching for the phone which he's holding over his head. Your place you hand on his shoulder trying to balance yourself as you make another grab for it, but you're not even close. You plant a kiss on his cheek causing his arm to drop immediately allowing you to grab the phone.

“Ha!” you say, failing to notice the dejected look on Frankie's face.

You’re walking towards the counter to reply when something comes over you, maybe it was the way Frankie had made you feel these last few days, maybe it was finally coming to your senses, but you turn back to face him. You stare up at Frankie whose eyes are on the ceiling.

“Can you delete him, from all my shit, and block the number” you ask, offering him your phone.

“Really?” Frankie says

“Ya I can't do it but I want it done,” you say, pushing the phone towards him, more vigorously this time.

“Well it'd be my pleasure, guy sounds like a dick,” he says, taking the phone from you and scrolling through wiping away any remnants of the dude.

“Thanks” you say as he hands the phone back to you.

“What did you see in him? Well actually based on the photo he sent maybe I understand,” he murmurs.

“Francisco Morales” you say, mouth agape.

“I'm not the one who sent it!” he says lifting his hands up in defense.

“You wanna dance?’ he asks “I got the playlist from Pope, may as well have some fun, really forget about Jackson.”

“Jo.. you know it doesn't matter and you’re right,” the both of you dance like idiots for a while, twirling around the room in an embarrassingly cliche way that would be better suited to a John Hughes movie than a makeshift wedding reception. As the next song begins, the slow pacing shifts the tone.

I just kept hoping, I just kept hoping

The way would become clear

You stop your dancing, as does Frankie and a dread akin to that of being at your first middle school dance wondering if you'll be asked to dance or not comes over you. You both stare at each other for a second before Frankie offers you his hand, if he was waiting for a moment, this was it.

I spent all this time

Tryna play nice and fight my way here

See, I've been having me a real hard time

But it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

He pulls you into him and you sway in time to the music. One hand on your lower back, the other one holding your hand as you rest your head against his shoulder. His thumb gently rubs over yours. The sensation comforts you causing a wave of relief which causes your eyes to water.

So, I just kept dreaming, yeah, I just kept dreamin'

It wasn't very hard

I spent all this time

Tryna figure out why

Nobody on my side

“You okay?” he asks, hearing you sniffle, you nod looking up at him and he briefly untangles his hand from yours to wipe away the tear that had fallen

“I'm sorry, if I...” he starts softly, thumb tracing gently over your cheekbone.

“No, it's not you, well it is, but it's not bad” you offer, satisfied with the response he takes your hand in his again and continues swaying.

See, I've been having me a real good time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

So please, don't take my feelings

I have found at last

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

“why'd you decide to delete him” Frankie whispers, barely audible

“Moment of clarity I suppose” you say into his shoulder.

“Which was?” he presses, not looking down to you.

“Just realized how I could have been being treated in a relationship.”

“Should have been being treated,” Frankie corrects.

“I can't believe I let him do that to me for so long, im so stupid” you mutter

“Blames not on you, blames on him for not realizing what he had, seriously if I had you id….” he stops himself not wanting to take advantage of a vulnerable situation.

So I just kept going, I just kept going

And hoping I'm growing near

Well this good and fine, I spent all this time

Tryna find my way here

And I've been having me a real fun time

And it feels so nice to know I'm gonna be alright

“You’d what” you ask, having mustered up enough courage to finally find out if what you were feeling was reciprocated.

“Id never let you go, at least i'd do everything in my power to make sure you’d want to stay with me”

Please, don't take this feeling

I have found at last

You reach your hands up to his face and pull it down to meet yours, lips colliding for the first time, but the sensation washing over you felt familiar. It felt like you’d finally come home.

Please, don't take my feeling

I have found at last

He slowly moves the two of you back towards the bed never departing from your lips for more than a moment.

“You uh..you sure you want to do this,” he asks, as you run your hands up and down his back.

“Ya, you?” you question looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yes, absolutely.”

If I wanted to, I'd be alright

Yeah, if I wanted to, I'd be alright

The sun from the blinds that had been accidentally left open seeps into the room. The warmth hitting your naked shoulder. You smile when you look down to see Frankies arm wrapped loosely around your waist.

“Well my long con worked, I finally got the side of the bed I wanted,” you tease.

“Mmm” he says as you shift round to come face to face with him kissing his nose. His eyes flutter awake and he smiles, kissing you on the forehead as you snuggle into his chest for a moment before moving to get ready for the day. His arms tighten around you trapping you against him.

“Frankie, we have to get moving” you giggle.

“Nope, I was serious last night. I'm not planning on letting you go”

“So I’m trapped here forever?” you laugh

“Would that be so bad?” he wonders, and you settle back into him knowing that nothing would be better than spending the rest of your days here with him.

#in a week #part 4 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #catfish x you #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier fic

[prose-for-hire]

Natural Attraction

Part One // Part Three

Pairing: Angel x vamp!reader

Request: Not really requested. I wanted to do a second part to ‘So wrong it’s right’. Angel and the reader are forced to work together - will the tension lift or just get harder to bear?

Warning: Sex references. Nudity that is not described. Violence. Blood mention. Swearing.

A/N: I adore writing a plot, can you tell? I could probably keep writing this one for several parts but I think I’m leaving it at this for now 💖🖤

Ever since you and Angel shared that kiss, he had been avoiding you. You had ignited his world, left it simultaneously crumbling and revived. You made him question himself. His goodness. You made him hate you. Need you. There was so much spinning around his head. You made him dizzy.

He had been avoiding you again since that night. It had been a week and no word from him. Not even a punch was thrown your way. You felt disappointed, lacking. His presence made you feel more alive.

The object that you had taken from what had been LA’s answer to the demon mob had been a bracelet. It appeared like one half of a handcuff and could be attached and removed in a similar way. It was encrusted jewels that held ancient and priceless magic. Power.

In the wrong hands, this could allow demons to own the earth. Live above ground. Vampires could embrace the day. Demons could control the laws of the land.

But you didn’t care in the slightest for this. The real reason you had wanted it was for vain purposes. It was pretty and you had deserved something nice after scraping a living for so many centuries. You had finally saved up enough.

You admired it, slipping your sleeve over it before you left for the evening. You assumed one day that you would have to pawn it so you wore it at any given opportunity. Even if it didn’t match your lifestyle or your outfit.

You savoured the metallic feeling of it against your skin. Of the power it held, that you held by wearing it but not giving it permission to have.

But this powerful feeling wasn’t destined to last. You were jumped. Taken off-guard and slammed to the ground. The weapon they used curled around your skin, slicing into it. While you were distracted by the pain, they took your bracelet off your wrist. They had been too fast for you.

“Oh, I’m gonna kill you” You muttered, trying to haul yourself up.

“I’m dead... and soon the rest of the world will be” he cackled.

“You- what?!” You rolled your eyes, God you despised caricature-like villains, “Come on, man, get a life! Taking over the world is so last century!” You said getting to your feet. But before you could react you got punched in the face, sending you flying back into a brick wall. Your head cracking painfully against the brick. It knocked you out.

When you finally came to, the sun was threatening to rise. You had to scramble to an abandoned building waiting out the day. You spent the entire day thinking. Cursing what was going to have to happen. You would have to ask him for help. Ask him to save the world. By your side.

God, it sickened you. To even dance near the light. To be seen as good by association.

You entered the hotel like you wanted to be there. Skipping into the various rooms looking for a sign of life, or at least living dead.

“Angel?” You called, “Aaangel” You cooed, your voice sing-songing through the halls of the hotel.

“He’s not here and I suggest you leave” Wesley appeared as if from nowhere. It almost made even you jump.

“Hey, Wes! How’s that Sumerian going? Remember: it’s all in the vowels”

“Stop it. Actions have consequences, Y/n. He told us what you did”

“Yeah, I mean it kind of takes two, right?” You winked but he just stared. Hard. He was usually pleasant with you despite your reputation. You had seen him as a kind of friend. The only one you had, mortal or otherwise.

So, your dead heart sunk further down your chest at his tone. Which made you hurt. Which in turn, made you threatening. You stepped towards him, staring him down.

He whipped out a cross but you took it from his hand, grasping it tight despite the pain and arching an eyebrow at him before you threw it behind you.

“You attempted to use the Jewel of Latrop on him and now you wish to-” Wesley began, showing you that Angel knew exactly why you had been there in the first place. It was going to make it harder to convince everyone that you came in peace.

“What? No I- we just kissed” You shrugged. Of course he had told them you were evil. He wanted them to kill you because he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

Maybe this information was good information. You could use this. See if you could find a way to get him onside. Or, at least, back with his lips on yours.

You explained. Giving a mostly honest account and luckily, Wesley believed you. Saw you as sincere. You had a reputation but you had allowed Wesley to see your other side. The one that enjoyed reading to pass your eternity. Could speak several languages and weirdly enjoyed assisting and teaching others.

I mean, it pissed you off when they couldn’t understand your simple explanations, but when they really did learn something you had this weird pride that rose in your otherwise dead chest.

Wes saw this and chose, despite the real threat you could pose, to see the good in you. He invited you into an office that you knew had been Angel’s. But now, somehow it was Wesley’s. Apparently there had been a reshuffle, with Wesley taking the lead on the cases.

After a while where you and Wesley sat and shared notes on a text you had both been reading, the rest of the team arrived. Wesley introduced you to those you hadn’t met before.

Then he walked in. Face like thunder, tone hardened at your presence.

“What’re they doing here?” He all but growled.

“Turns out, angel you misunderstood the situation. It’s imperative we work with our friend to regain-” Wesley spoke in your favour, he did make the decisions around here now after all.

“They don’t have a soul” Angel argued thickly.

“I have a conscience, will that do for now? I don’t like it either, but this directly affects me so-”

“See? Selfish. Willing to turn on us all for a cheap buck”

“A cheap fu-?” You teased devilishly but he cut you off.

“Buck” He corrected over your words making you roll your eyes.

“You’re just sour that you don’t get me all to yourself aren’t you? Don’t worry, sweet Angel, we can pick up where we left-” He cut you off in his favourite way. Grabbing you and slamming you against something hard. The rest of the team intake a sharp collective breath. They had never seen him this dangerous in the flesh. They watched as both of you held each other’s gaze, “Here? Now?” You teased your tone suggesting mock-scandal.

He shoved you again and Wesley tried to intervene without success. Your eyes were locked on each other, neither of you backing down until you spoke up again, “I’d say ow, but you’re not pinching hard enough” you smiled wide at the way his eyes flickered at your words. You stared at each other for what felt like an age. The demon within both of you calling to the other.

But he remembered where he was and how he was trying to make amends with the team so he let go. Almost too quickly as he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped back. As far away from you in the room as he could.

It was dangerous for him to be around you. You brought something out in him, almost primal. You annoyed him and you made him feel something… else. He couldn’t quite figure what it was but he didn’t like it.

“Do you still have the manual that it came with?”

“Manual?” You asked before realising, “Oh, big dusty book – looked a little too much like a Bible to me, so I, uh used gloves and trashed it”

Wesley glared, the manual would give you ways to locate it. Plus, information on how it can be used and possible prophecies attached. You were intelligent, but you weren’t intending to use the bracelet for anything other than a brag-able accessory. 

You told them where you got rid of it and Wesley asked the others, except Angel, to try and find it. Some to the landfill and others to the area you left it.

“I need to change, can I?” You asked before you were assigned your cape and brightly coloured tights. Your clothes were ripped and hanging off you. You had been cut up in the mugging. Wesley nodded, directing you to a kind of lost property room where you could freshen up and change.

You had stripped yourself of the clothes. Some were hard to remove as dried blood had stuck the fabric to your wounds. You hissed but managed to free yourself.

You were walking around, looking through drawers and the pile in the corner. Most of it smelled musty, but beggars couldn’t be choosers so you tried to select some of the more wearable items.

After a moment as you were still deciding, a knock came at the door and someone entered.

“Oh, um, you’re-” Wesley’s eyes widened as you turned apparently unbothered that you were lacking clothes.

“Yeah?”

“Naked”

“Half” You shrugged, then remembered that this man was human. His eyes drawing to places usually hidden. “Oh, right. I don’t mind if you don’t”

The man was speechless, but not complaining in the slightest. You were comfortable with who you were. Your body, in either form. Which frustrated angel to no end.

Oh and speak of the pretty, ensouled devil…

“Wes. We need to talk about-” He cut himself off, taking in your very naked form, “Y/n” He breathed. He shut up when he realised Wes was with you. Naked you. He stared at the man, almost burning holes through him for looking. A low, predatory growl rumbled in his chest. One that you only caught, and grinned at. Which made him scowl at you instead.

“Come on, you can speak freely. We’re all friends here” You encouraged as you turned to find something wearable from the pile.

“We can’t work with them – can’t trust them, you gotta know this you’re a smart guy” Angel complimented but at Wes’ unconvinced look he continued, “Look, they’re bad news. There’s no soul, or morality, it’s just pure demon”

“Angel, we know each other. We’re acquaintances” Wesley sighed as your smug smile grew. You were pleased Wesley still respected the friendship you felt.

“Wha-”

“And I’m not amoral. I don’t have a soul, you’re right. But a soul doesn’t automatically equate to morality. Humans, demons even vampires are faced with a string of choices with incalculable consequences” You pulled on some clothes as you spoke, the room’s attention on you, “Some choices are good, some very bad and others… well, they’re just choices. I want to stop this apocalypse. I want my bracelet. I choose that and if my reasoning is not to your taste, well, maybe we can find some other part of me that is…”

You finished your speech, your body now fully clothed as you arched an eyebrow at Angel to punctuate your suggestion. He just scowled and turned back to Wes, which almost made you pout.

“Come on, Wes. I mean, they’re basically Spike’s more immoral twin” He gestured towards you, not properly able to look at you. Less his voice dwindle into nothing. His demon half threatening to take over like it always did when his focus was on you. he was fighting this hold you appeared to have on him. Tooth and nail.

“Who?” You asked, “You’re telling me I have more competition than the pretty girl down the hall?”

He gritted his teeth, about to begin another delicious argument. Hopefully culminating in him taking your clothes back off you…

But then his little gang of merry men (and women) turned up looking a little worse for wear. They returned, explaining that they had found the manual. But lost a fight against your mugger. Meaning that the dark side now had the manual and the bracelet. Which now meant that they could release the demon underworld without the need for a Hellmouth.

Gunn had managed to follow them to some old seedy bar but wasn’t allowed through the door because he was human. You and Angel shared a look despite his previous statements. And then nodded an unspoken agreement despite his words. You would both go.

You took it in turns threatening the guy behind the bar for information. The heat rose in the air. He enjoyed watching the way you worked on the man. Pounded him. You were controlled in a way most vampires weren’t. Angel took over, pushing you to the side, balling up the man’s shirt and threatening him. 

He eventually gave up the information. The name of the demon. The reason why he needed the bracelet.

“Don’t you feel it in the air? It’s coming. The end” He finished, choking slightly on the blood running from his nose.

“Sure. Something’s in the air” You glanced at angel and gave him a smirk as he let go of the guy and just walked away. 

You caught up with him and walked back together. But something had changed. Angel’s face was set. At how much you had so visibly enjoyed hurting that man. At how he felt it too. But couldn’t move for the guilt of it.

“Well, lover, didn’t we make the perfect pair?” You sang these words, your swagger beside him made his face harden.

“You think this is love?” He swung around and glowered at you, “You can’t love”

“I feel. I touch. I fuck. Why can’t I love?” You questioned, turning to face where he had stopped on the sidewalk.

“You’re a demon. You- you’re sick”

“Yeah, well it takes one to-” He punched the words from you before they could form.

You laughed at this action, rubbing your jaw as he tensed his own. You just wouldn’t quit. It infuriated him.

It came down to his own guilt. As always. His own hatred of his nature mirrored onto you. And you were perceptive enough to name it. Making him close a fist to punch you again that you happily blocked as you continued telling him exactly why he hated you. Secretly envied you. Was incredibly attracted to you.

You read him like a book and he hated it. Hated how vulnerable you made him feel. He hated that you understood him. This part of him. This hatred he held for his demon side.

Instead of fighting, your words or your body, he just stalked off with you on his tail.

It had now been a few weeks since you had found out the information you had needed. You learnt all about the ritual. The one to open Hell on earth. A temporary Hellmouth using the bracelet and an old incantation. You managed to find a way to prevent it. Hatch a sort of plan. All you needed to do was figure out where and when.

You actually settled into the team well. You were human enough for the living ones and demon enough for the others. They found themselves becoming increasingly fond of you, despite their better judgement.

The tension between you and Angel was noticed. Discussed and dissected when they thought you couldn’t hear. You often could, even when you had both slipped away to relieve some of the tension you had built up. It had started early one morning, when the rest were sleeping and you and Angel couldn’t bare to prolonged eye contact any longer. It was drawn out and heated.

He tugged you aside and met his lips hotly with yours. Pressing you into walls. Shoving you against furniture. Walls cracking, furniture splintering. You gripped him desperately so hard you almost broke the skin.

The air began cracking with electricity. Instinctual rumbles of desire, like thunder. Neither of you were able to figure whose chest it was coming from. You were beginning to meld into one. This moment was like the beginning of a storm. Heat rising almost unbearably. Air thick with arousal. You could both taste it in the air. On the other’s tongues.

You carried on this way, for weeks. Hissing and writhing against each other. Swallowing the others moans. Rooms shaking. The scent of your mutual lust rolling off you in waves. Like a perfume.

You were often thrashing against the other in a fight for control. It became intense. It was sizzling and often quick. Stolen moments away from the others. An all-encompassing earthquake masquerading as a sordid and needed release.

Something had shifted between you. But these moments only fuelled your frustration. Your addiction to the other. It made you want more. Think of each other more. Crave the others body… mind.

You clung to every scrap of information you learnt about the other. Still not able to stop yourselves from trading insults. You found yourself enjoying being a part of this team. Being so close to him. For some reason, the most recent time after you had sex, the words slipped out.

“You know, I like it when you show this side of you” You whispered as you both put your clothes back on and started to get back to the others who were not fooled in the slightest by what you were doing.

“Yeah?” He asked, surprised how open you were being. But you just nodded, your thumb running across his ridged forehead that he had forgotten he was showing. It matched yours and this time, he didn’t pull away. He just stared. As if he was studying you.

You then broke apart quickly when Fred ran in, averting her gaze awkwardly and then having to look up to announce that they had finally located the demon that had your bracelet. Who was beginning to open a portal to the Hellmouth on the other side of the city.

It was easy to locate, considering the massive green portal that had opened up out of nowhere and the demon with the maniacal laugh that carried several blocks.

None of you wasted any time. Cordelia and Gunn took out the guards and Wesley and Fred began to set up their incantation to prevent any demons leaving the temporary Hellmouth.

You and Angel took on the main demon. The one that mugged you. When the guards went down, Gunn and Cordy joined you.

You all fought hard, calculating his moves ahead of your own. The ugly demon got the worst of your punches. Your fangs bared, ferocity evident to all. Your fists flew, legs kicking out mercilessly. People had to get out of your way, you had become indiscriminate.

Then, Gunn ran in wielding a sword and took the demon’s head clean off. You stopped, watching the portal close up. The demon who lost its head turned to a pile of purple goo, oozing down the sidewalk. The metal of the bracelet still solid and dropping to the floor.

You caught it with a smirk, watching as the puddle of goo began to drip down the drain. You snapped it back onto your wrist. You shrugged, ready to leave them and get back to your life.

Everyone paused for a moment, before taking a collective breath. Then their focus turned to you.

“Y/n? We can’t let you leave with that”

“Now, I never said this should be destroyed – it’s mine. Won it fair and square in that fight” You explained but stopped to listen to them.

“It can’t be allowed to get back into the wrong hands” Wes reasoned with you.

“Wrong hands being yours” Angel added from beside you which made you raise an eyebrow.

“No. It’s mine, I waited a long time to save up for-”

“Hand it over” He urged, his hand waited palm up for you to give in. Your eyes waging a separate battle from your actions.

“Can’t do that” You snatched Angel’s hand and the bracelet magically cuffed you both together. It had properties you had hidden from the others, the manual wasn’t needed by you because you had already read up on it extensively.

What? You never claimed to be perfect.

You held a stake to his chest as you backed you both away. The others all looked, eyes wide. They had become almost fond of you. Forgetting the lack of soul. Wesley started to try to reason with you but Angel put a hand out to stop him as he moved back with you. Angel nodded at them to stand down, this was between the two of you.

You slid down an alleyway, the seedy kind that had been witness to many an entanglement like this one. You pushed him back against the wall the way he had so many times to you. Your lips pressing to his neck hungrily. Kisses sloppy with passion. He started to move his cuffed hand to reach for you but you pulled it back with your own. He groaned as you pressed further against him, friction almost making him wild. The way you always made him feel.

“Why did you do that?” He managed to mumble between your urgent kisses.

“Wanted a… little time away from those… prying eyes”

“There’s better ways to get me on my own” He muttered, but you could hear the smile in his voice as you leaned to press more enthusiastic kisses against his neck. His free hand moved so that he was grasping the base of your skull, strands of hair between his fingers.

“Not quite as fun though, right?” You mumbled, smiling back.

He chuckled and shook his head. You had both been waiting for this. You moved from his neck, kissing every so often along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. You notice that his face morphed into the demon. This time he wasn’t embarrassed to bare this to you. It felt natural. Kissing you felt natural.

He didn’t wait. Didn’t hesitate this time. He slammed his lips into yours again. Directing you toward his lips with a dangerous intensity.

The force behind this honest desire excited you more than anything. You kissed, fiery and urgent. It was a moment stolen in time. The adrenaline kicking you both into overdrive. Lips meeting lips. Skin meeting skin.

When you were both panting, from some transferred habit you only gained when you were both together you moved to look in his eyes. Proximity still intense as you smirked at his reaction to you. His need for you.

Then, just like that, the handcuff disappeared and he smiled. Shoving you off him, but it was more playful than it had ever been before. He was warming to you. He still didn’t enjoy admitting it, but it was there. More than evident to both of you now.

He began to walk away but you called out to him.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, uncuffing the bracelet from your wrist and throwing it to him. He caught it easily with both hands and looked down at the object. This action surprised him, but he wouldn’t allow it to show on his face.

Both of you were closer to the other than even you realised in this moment. In morality. In desire.

“Don’t tell anyone” You warned, “You owe me”

He smirked at this. The upturn of his mouth made your heart begin to beat. You swear it happened. Your chest vibrating suddenly.

“See you around, Y/n” He shook his head, warming to the idea of you with every step away he took.

“Tomorrow night?” You asked, your voice held that note of pleading you really wished you could have masked. He just laughed as he walked away, shaking his head and waving the bracelet as a form of goodbye.

You both knew you would be seeing each other as soon as physically possible. You smiled despite yourself, walking away in the opposite direction. This was going to be fun and you had the rest of your eternity to explore it.

#Angel btvs #Angel #Angel x reader #Angel imagine #Angel x you #Angel btvs x reader #ats #btvs #ats x you #ats x reader #ats imagine #btvs imagine #btvs x you #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #angel the series #angel the series imagine

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist 10th anniversary book Q&A session

The 10th anniversary book has a section where Katoh answers 100 questions submitted by fans on Twitter, so here they are translated/paraphrased! May contain manga spoilers up to the recent flashback arc, so be warned.

(Note that I’m playing it very fast and loose here because there are A HUNDRED OF THEM, so not exact wordings, but it should capture the gist. Lemme know if there are any you want elaborated on)

1. Katoh likes the feel of traditional drawing more than digital but is impressed with how far digital has come

2. Meph THOROUGHLY ABUSES spacetime to watch all his shows and ensure that he gets all the merch he wants

3. Did the girls take all of Yukio’s school uniform buttons in middle school? Yes, they did (apparently it’s like A Thing for girls to ask for a button from their crush at middle school graduation, based on some sad movie from the 60s where a guy who got drafted as a kamikaze pilot gave a girl one of his uniform buttons to remember him by)

4. Rin's tail is about a meter long

5. There are tons of servants working at Mephisto's mansion. Belial is in charge of them

6. Katoh borrows from all sorts of neat real locations when making settings

7. Katoh identifies with pretty much all the characters the most! Except Lucifer.

8. Demon designs she's proud of include the impure king and hachirou, pretty much anything that was the main one in an arc

9. Katoh lists a bunch of her favorite musical artists/music she’s listening to recently: King Gnu, Official Hige Dandism, Kenshi Yonezu, BAD HOP, Sakanaction, Keyakizaka 46, Hypnosis Mic, Aimer, B’Z, Queen Bee.

10. Awww the rabbit manga that characters are often reading isn't just Robo to Usakichi, it's an even older one that she drew as a little kid

11. She likes industrial style interior designs

12. Rin and Yukio alternated who got the top bunk growing up, because they couldn't agree on it lol

13. Katoh cares a whole lot about panel layouts and speech bubble positions, might even be her favorite part of the process (it shows!)

4. Katoh does NOT have a mashou, lol

15. Rin has probably been practicing in secret so he can learn to carry stuff with his tail

16. Izumo probably got into shojo manga around 1st grade, her mom had some around the house

17. Specialty dishes: Rin - lots of stuff but especially nabe Yuri - stuff you can throw together quickly Shiro - stuff he learned from Yuri and/or cookbooks, alongside teaching Rin Yukio - Does. Not. Cook.

18. Can't pick a favorite place she's been on research, but there's no place like Japan

19. Kinzou's band isn't currently meeting because demons, but he's probably still thinking of new songs

20. Hardest characters to draw: anyone with detailed flowing hair. Hardest to write for: Lightning and Gedouin. She had to go read books about serial killers specifically for material for Gedouin, lol 

21. Suguro actually gets a dorm room to himself, though allegedly Yukio is technically assigned as his roommate, lol. Didn't end up that way what with Yukio being a teacher and also Rin’s whole...situation

22. Shiemi makes some of her own hair accessories! Cute

23. Katoh doesn't mind if you include stuff with fan letters but check with the editor first

24. Time for making each chapter: Planning/storyboarding: 1-5 days. Sketching: 3-5 days. Drawing/inking: the rest. Just...the rest of the time

25. Neither Suguro nor Izumo have dated before and neither is currently dating. But that's probably just because things were hectic for them! It could happen

26. Yukio breaks 5 or 6 pairs of glasses a year, someone get this kid a strap or something

27. How many spare glasses does Yukio have? Check the fanbook lol it's in there (dang it Katoh)

28. The demon she wants us to pay the most attention to is Lucifer. Because plot.

29. What's under the Order's big meeting table? It's a BOTTOMLESS PIT and if you fall in it you DIE that's what makes it COOL (laughs)

30. What are the job requirements for the angelic legion? Literally just Arthur liking you and inviting you to join

31. She WANTS to do more character profiles but just hasn't gotten to it

32. Rin's tail feels like a cat tail, texture wise

33. The "red Assiah fire" is literally just actual fire nothing special

34. Rin's current hair color is light blue fading to white at the ends

35. Thoughts on Rin's growth: she likes that he stays positive in awful situations and she also thinks it's very main character of him to face the past instead of avoiding it

36. Mephisto didn't purposely surround Rin with stuffed animals when he woke up after going crispy. Mephisto's bed is just Like That

37. Kurikara was based on a cool sword she found in a sword book, but that one was technically just a ceremonial sword. The symbol on it us a Sanskrit letter kaan (sp?) associated with Fudou Myouou

38. Kuro can communicate with normal cats and hangs out with them often

39. Sometimes Shiemi's skirt is extra fancy around the hem what's up with that? Apparently it's an optional accessory that comes with the skirts help I haven't noticed this and don't know any fashion terms in any language

40. When coloring, Katoh always tries to have an overall theme in mind ("emphasis on blue" etc) so it comes together in the end

41. Yes the twins are genetically related to Shiro because of Goro (she says they're like his nephews but I say GENETICALLY at least they'd be indistinguishable from his children)

42. Strongest mom of all the strong moms around here? Yuri! Did you SEE her give birth??

43. Are you careful about your own health Katoh-sensei? Not particularly! Her mom has had to bring her food at work sometimes! Don't do this at home kids

44. At the dating events Shura goes to, does she drink cocktails in moderation? Yeah, she probably downplays her normal drinking habits at these things. But normally she's down for just about any kind of drink

45. Lucifer just really likes oysters okay

46. How many pages of manga does Katoh draw in a day? If she's being good about self-care: three. Maximum number ever: TEN

47. Mephisto is one of those folks who can eat like a garbage compactor and never gain weight. Possibly because his body resists that sort of change the same way it resists aging etc

48. First food Rin cooked: fish burger type patty. Yukio's favorite things Rin cooks: fish simmered in soy sauce, yellowtail with daikon radish. It's fish all the way down

49: Did Rin ever get more monthly allowance from Mephisto? It doubled! He gets TWO 2000 yen bills now (rip) [T/N: That's uh, that's USD $37.26 a month or 33.10 euro]

50. Why isn't Rin more popular with the girls? He gets nervous talking to them, plus he's too oblivious to notice even if he DID have some fans

51. Why change Suguro's hair? She gets bored with keeping everything the same, and she wanted a visual representation that he was getting serious and going into kind of a training arc

52. Things Katoh pays extra attention to when drawing: trying to capture the feel of whatever she's drawing (like "that looks warm and soft" or "I bet that guy stinks" cough Lightning cough)

53: Does Rin take after Yuri more? (He's got her eyes!) Katoh tried to draw Yuri so she looks like both twins. Personality, too - Yukio has her smarts and Rin has her optimism

54: Do you ever wanna be like Mephisto? Well she'd like to be able to get away with just ANYTHING EVER, but no, let's not be like Mephisto

55. Konekomaru not only carries around a cat toy in case he meets any cats, he MAKES cat toys to carry around based on what he thinks the cats would like

56. How'd you come up with Shima? Go read the fan book!

57. Do the kids have Twitter/Instagram accounts? Rin - probably not. Konekomaru might be on some social media. Paku and Izumo are totally on instagram

58. Is there something Rin makes that you wish you could try? All of it! That's the whole idea! He's good at cooking!

59. Will we ever have a (G-rated) reveal of what ALL of Mamushi and her family's tattoos look like? Maybe! She'll think about it

60. Does Arthur have a repertoire of different hairstyles? Not really, he just puts some of it up on the top. Heck he might even have people to do that for him

61. If you wrote a shojo manga what would it be about? She'd have to do a lot of research before even coming up with a story, since there are so many style differences between the genres aside from just the subject

62. The other two of Mephisto's top 3 favorite foods: Cup ramen and....f-fried bubblegum?? Is that a THING???

63. Where do you start when drawing a character? Usually the outline of their face but if it's a complex pose/composition she'll start with whatever's in the foreground (like hands)

64. If Katoh could have a familiar, what demon would she choose? Mephisto. As the all-powerful author, she might actually be able to command him as a familiar!

66. If you swapped Yukio and Rin's relationship around what would change? not much, you'd pretty much have Rin going to the Illuminati and Yukio going to the past

67. Top 3 foods/souvenirs to try in Kyushu? Well she doesn't know what’s good CURRENTLY but when she was there she always used to like burdock tempura udon, hakata torimon (a kind of manju with white bean paste inside), and Chikae style cod roe. today I learned Katoh went to high school in Kyushu

68. Katoh listens to music a lot while she's storyboarding, then when she and the assistants are all drawing and inking they put various videos/movies and stuff on in the background

69. For all his hitting on girls, is Shima actually popular with the ladies at all? He's got enough girls in his life that he probably COULD find a girlfriend if he really wanted, but the double agent thing tends to get in the way. He still wouldn't be as popular as Yukio though (side thought/translator’s note: Shima would be proud of being number 69.)

70. Katoh has the ending planned out in a big-picture way, but there are still a few details here and there that she's fretting over

71. It's cute when the boys put their ties over their shoulders when they're working on something! Where'd that come from? She just figured a tie might get in the way and that seemed like a realistic way to get it out of the way

72. Looks like Yukio is getting some facial hair! What about Rin? They're both about the age for it, but maybe Rin can't grow a beard yet. Maybe a little peach fuzz here and there

73. Katoh's favorite blue exorcist merch? There were some exorcist licenses a while back, and the exorcist pins. Basically it's really cool that these little accessories she drew ACTUALLY EXIST NOW, LIKE YOU CAN HOLD THEM IN YOUR HANDS

74. Okay realtalk how long do we have left, I don't want the series to end yet? We're solidly in the second half by now but it's not, like, ABOUT to end yet

75. Katoh would be a Knight meister, based on what characters she likes to play in games and such

76. How many people in the whole exorcism cram school? More than you think! She doesn't give a number but apparently licensed exorcists also attend classes for new meisters, etc, so there's a wide age range attending

77. How's Arthur feel about, like, studying Taming on the way to becoming Paladin? He's at least mostly accepted that you have to use demons to fight demons effectively

78. Konekomaru started wearing glasses in his first year of middle school, so like 7th grade (more recent than I thought!) He has one spare pair, in contrast to Yukio lol

79. Katoh's current obsessions? Ghost/scary stories! She's even been going to live readings of them recently

80. Media Katoh consumes for inspiration? A wide range of foreign teen drama, horror/suspense, shojo manga, light novels, anime, etc. Special focus on things where two boys are in conflict or there are brothers involved

81. If they weren't exorcists what jobs would they have? Rin - chef. Yukio - doctor. Shiemi - uh, florist?

82. Inspiration for the design of True Cross Town? Katoh and her assistants gathered up a bunch of references, picked out stuff they felt matched the tone, and mashed them all up together

83. Did you use any references etc for the school/exorcist uniforms? She says she probably should have but she just kind of made them up before publication

84. Favorite part of drawing? For color pages, picking out a color scheme. For black and white, drawing in all the little details (though she doesn't always get time to lately)

85. Once again confirms the demon kings' weird hair is a representation of their horns. ADDS THAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T SEE DEMONS CAN'T SEE THE WEIRD HAIR

86. Now that Yukio's at the Illuminati, where's he gonna get his Jump SQ and spare glasses? Well he probably never planned to stay for long, but hey it's a big ship and they might have an optometrist and/or newsstand there

87. Do you base the demon characters on any references etc? Not really, she just gets a general idea of popular demon designs and then makes up her own in her own style

88. Merchandise Katoh personally wants to have made: stuff that an adult could just use in their day to day life. Also, it's not gonna happen, but if her favorite figure brand made AoEx figures she could die happy

89. If Beelzebub's host body was a beautiful woman, how would Shima react? Would the womanizing win out over the bug phobia? Katoh replies that Shima would probably just faint from being near a girl that pretty, before the bugs even got involved

90. Will the twins ever get to smile and eat dinner together again?? We'll just have to wait and see!

91. What do you check at a "scenario check"? what's a scenario check man I dunno They check for people being out of character or the setting feeling off. They had a lot of these checks for the anime, but they also do them for the drama CD, games, and all that other stuff where multiple authors are involved

92. Why does Shura use baldy as an insult for people who are clearly not bald? She feels like they have some kind of metaphorical, mental kind of "baldness" and she's calling them out on it. Whatever that means

93. After Blue Exorcist ends, what do you want to draw next? She has SO MANY IDEAS, SO MANY

94. Did Katoh make up the Shinto chants that, for example, Izumo used against Gedouin? They're assembled from bits of actual Shinto prayers according to what feels right in the scene

95. Yukio reads the Jump SQ, right, and, just hear me out here, he likes gag manga, right? Does this mean he reads Salaryman Yukio? It's something he would read, but let's say that in the AoEx universe there's just a very similar manga that he finds oddly relatable

96. What do Yukio and Shima do in their free time on the Dominus Liminus? oh my god you guys this ship has so many amenities.  Yukio probably spends time reading in the library, which they totally have. There's also, like, a gym, and a movie theater, and a THEATER theater, all of which are free. Shima probably hangs out at the pool (!) and goes to the movies, and hits on illuminati girls, lol

97. Easiest character to draw? The ones with boring simple hair, lol. Lightning gets an honorable mention for ALSO not having eyes in most shots, but Rin wins--he was specifically designed to be easy for Katoh to draw because that's what you want in your main character

98. How do demons understand gender? They just possess whatever feels like the best match to how they feel in Gehenna, whether that's a man, or a woman, or a rat, or whatever

99. Where do you start when you're coming up with a story? She starts with character design and how the characters relate to each other. Currently she's just continuing an existing story, so she works on splitting up the overall plot into episodes and fleshing it out with scenes and information about characters

100. When do you feel most happy? She honestly feels like she lives a very happy life overall. Mentions noticing a lot of little things, like how nice her cats' heads smell when she cuddles them or taking a nice cold refreshing drink of water. There's happiness in everything. aww.

#blue exorcist #interview #Ao no Exorcist #translation

[chibinekochan]

Angel in Hell Season 2 part 1

Angel in hell season one -

Part 1 | part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

  Previously on Angel in Hell:

Satan destroyed half a building.

You are an angel and came to hell as an exchange student. You had to stay in Human Mc's old room. Human Mc died in a tragic accident.

All the demon boys are being very weird.

Somehow you have a pact with the brothers?

Ultimately it's revealed that you were the human Mc before you became an angel.

On top of that, Simeon is your mentor/friend and Lucifer proclaimed that you have to stay no matter what. Lucifer is basically ready to declare war just for you. 

  Now you will have to decide what to do.

Will you go back to heaven? Will you remember your past life and risk becoming a demon yourself? Who are you even? Is Lucifer serious about his threat? What are the other brothers going to do now? 

There also might be a romance here somewhere.

  Gen. reader insert.

  Words 2k

Taglist:

@gothjuulpod  ; @purgatoryhall ; @sibit360  ; @a-personnamed-ace

___________________________________________________________

  You wake up. For a brief moment, you feel almost normal.

Until the memories from yesterday start to flood your mind.

It still feels very raw. “I was human…” You whisper to yourself.

You shake your head. It's no use staying in bed and pondering over this. 

  The overwhelming urge of just being normal again rushes over you.

You stand up and take your usual shower; the hot water feels pleasant on your skin. It feels like it washes all of your pain away.

You dress, somehow it feels strange to have your usual angel clothes on your body.

You sigh and keep your hand on the doorknob. How will you face everyone today?

No! You have to eat at least, even when it's going to be awkward. 

You open the door, only to almost fall over a tray. It's filled with food. You see a note on top of it. Undoubtedly written by the brothers.

  Hey, we hope you are okay.

Text us when you are done eating!

We just want to know if you are okay. 

You got the whole week off, so please rest.

Text us if you need anything. I will bring some books later.

I bring some mangas or games or umm well whatever you want.

You're not alone, no matter what.

P.S.: Lucifer is stupid.

  This note makes you smile, you can tell that they all fought about what to write and that some of them just added some stuff.

You take the food inside. They really are good people. 

Despite everything, they still did their best for you. Maybe it was only because of your past with them? This thought hurts.

You start eating but can only finish about half of it. Despite it being all of your favorite foods. 

It makes you feel pretty guilty. 

Then you hear the notification sound from your phone. 

It's a message from Luke. You can only see half of it. He is asking if you are okay. 

You feel tempted to answer no, but just put the phone away.

  Next, you lay on your bed for a while. Thoughts start to swirl endlessly in your head. 

So many things at the same time cross your mind. You yell out from frustration. This won't bring anything. 

You get up from your bed and decide to go for a walk. 

You just quickly text the brothers a thank you and Luke a brief message informing him that you need some space.

  Then you leave the building.

It feels good somehow. You don't have a clear goal in mind and just wander into town. 

All this noise helps a bit, the random things in the windows distract you. 

This almost feels normal, even if a bit lonely. 

You are engrossed in an outfit when someone addresses you.

  "It's lovely, isn't it? I bet it would look lovely on you." You know this voice very well. It's Asmo. 

"Hey, Asmo…" You have talked often before, but right now it's kind of awkward. 

"I know there are a ton of things that we all need to talk about, but you know what. I just really want to go shopping and forget about everything right now. So how about we just pretend all of this stuff didn't happen and have some fun?" Asmo seems to have a lot on his mind as well. 

He must be equally hit by everything. He looks like he didn't get a wink of sleep. You don't mention that. 

"You know what. You are right. I was feeling a bit lonely anyway." Somehow it feels good to run into Asmo like this. His offer just seems like what you need right now. 

“In that case, it's a shopping date!” Asmo is suddenly very giddy.

Seeing this makes you smile a little.

You both head into so many stores and Asmo finds so much that he wants you to try on. It's very exhausting, but in the end, you both find something.

  “We should go to that new coffee shop before heading back home.” Asmo seems to just want to rest a bit.

“I'm pretty beat and having something sweet sounds great.” The image of fresh cake pops into your head.

Asmo offers you a cheerful nod.

You go to the coffee shop, and your table is in a secluded corner. 

After you get your coffee, Asmo is suddenly very gloomy. “I know I said I just want to forget about everything, but I just have to say it: I'm very ashamed of what I did. I brought you to the club and caused this whole mess since I didn't watch over you. I'm truly sorry.” Asmo is guilt written. This must truly weigh on his mind.

“I don't blame you for what happened. I'm not a small child anymore, and while that demon was a creep, you can't constantly watch me.” You feel glum, but you know Asmo did nothing wrong.

“I was also a big butt when Satan rightfully called me out. It only made it worse. I also feel extremely bad about lying to you. Not only that, but I mean you were back. That was all that was important to me.” Asmo groans and sways his head. He must feel very remorseful.

“I'm not back, though…” At least not as far as you are concerned.

Asmo smiles ruefully at you. “You're right. They have lost their life…but you are still so similar… That makes this even harder.” It seems hard for Asmo to admit this. “At the start, I was just so happy to have my friend back. It wasn't important to me that you had lost your memories or that you are an angel now. That just meant I could persuade you with my charm and that we could just make new memories together…” Asmo takes another deep breath, deep sadness reflects in his eyes. “I now realize I was mistaken. It was unfair to you and o your former self. I was a terrible friend, and I can only hope you will forgive me and trust me that I will do better from now on.” Asmo looks like he is about to cry.

It hurts to see him like this.

You take a sip of your coffee, letting his words sink in for a moment. “I can't even imagine what you have been through. Seeing a loved one that died… I don't know what I would do in a situation like that. I like spending time with you, and could use some support.” You know there are many difficult decisions that you will have to make.

  Asmo gently puts a hand on top of yours. You look puzzled.

“I will always support you no matter what.” He smiles at you. This seems to be the first time he undoubtedly looks at you.

“Thank you Asmo.” You smile back at him, feeling like a weight has been lifted from you.

Then you both talk about various topics and finish your cake and head back to the dorm. 

  You feel much better.

  “Yo…umm…are you doing alright?” You run right into Mammon in front of the gate.

He seems extremely uncomfortable.

“Not really but I'm working on it. Asmo helped me to feel a bit better.” You give him a slight smile.

Mammon glares at Asmo.

“We ran into each other in the city.” Asmo lifts his hand in defense. 

“Is that right?” Mammon seems a bit doubtful.

“Yeah, I was just kinda walking to clear my head, and that's when we met.” You aren't certain what the issue is.

“Ah…well, umm, do you have some time now?” Mammon shifts awkwardly around.

“Aren't you just being cute Mammon? Asmo giggles.

“Come on, I just have to talk about some important stuff.” Mammon huffs.

"Alright, I will give my big brother some space. Have fun you two." Asmo waves to you and walks to the dorm. 

Mammon mumbles something. 

"Anyway… Do you have some time?" Mammon asks again.

"Sure." You can tell it's urgent to him. 

Mammon looks relieved. "Great, let's go to my room."

When you arrive at his room, you can see it's a big mess. Mammon just realizes this with slight panic. 

"Aghhh… I-I should've cleaned." Mammon seems frustrated. 

"It's alright." You don't care right now. 

Mammon just makes some space for you two." Well…okay just come sit here."

  You sit down on the sofa beside him. 

"First I want to ask how you are… Though I kinda can imagine you must be upset and feeling all kinds of things. This whole mess really shouldn't have happened. We should have been honest. I mean I know we couldn't, but we are demons, there is no need for us to follow the rules, right?" Mammon gets pretty worked up and takes a deep breath. "No, never mind that." He shakes his head. "I just want to make sure you know that I want you to be happy. I know it's a lot to ask for right now.” Mammon takes a deep breath. “It's all messy and I don't even know how to feel either. I just want to wake up and feel normal again. Ever since you… they…died everything is just a huge mess.” Mammon pauses for a moment. “We were never a normal family, and we lost Lilith before. That messed us all up. Then when we lost the one thing that was important to all of us, and we never recovered from that.” Mammon shakes his head. “I never recovered at least. It was like I got punched and gutted every day.” Mammon's hands are trembling. “Seeing you was just like that too, but kinda worse. It was nice to see your face, but you are a different person now but not really. It's just… I-I can't understand it… I'm sorry it's just so confusing." Mammon just puts his face in his hands. He starts crying, which really surprises you.

  Mammon is filled with grief, confusion. 

You place your hand on his trembling back.

  "I'm sorry you have to see this…" It sounds like Mammon wasn't expecting all of his emotions to just break out like this.

“It's alright Mammon. Thank you for telling me this.” Seeing him this distraught hurts you. You feel like crying too, you gently caress his back, to console him. There are no words that you two can even share.

It's almost like Mammon is finally truly weeping for what he lost.

You can only be there and watch over him.

You don't know for how long Mammon is crying, and it doesn't really matter.

  Then a knock on the door makes you both almost jump up.

“I'm busy!” Mammon yells, trying to mask his hoarse voice.

“I need the book you stole.” Much to your surprise, it's Satan's voice.

“I know nothing about some books.” Mammon looks caught.

Satan opens the door, seemingly done with this. “I'm done playing games Mammon…”

His eyes meet yours, silently sitting on the couch, next to the red-eyed Mammon.

“What in the devildom are you doing?” Satan narrows his eyes.

“We were just talking.” You don't want any more misunderstandings.

“Yeah, none of your business anyway.” Mammon is pouting.

“I thought we agreed to leave them space and why are your eyes red?” Satan isn't sure what happened, but it bothers him. 

"I tried this new deodorant and got it in his eyes. I was just helping him." You can tell Mammon is uncomfortable about crying. 

Mammon just nods and goes along with it. "Yeah exactly, what are you even thinking? Accusing me of crying? Get a grip…and I got no books at all." Mammon is huffing. 

Satan only makes a fed up motion with his hand and grabs a book right from the floor. "Whatever. You should come with me. I have a few things we should discuss." Satan pays little attention to Mammon and looks at you. 

"Sure." You assume that Satan had some thoughts about yesterday. 

"I am done here anyway." Mammon is slightly pouting, but he also seems to be extremely tired. 

You think he will need space to come to terms with everything. 

Satan is not even looking at Mammon. You wonder if they fought.

  -----------------

All these lovely comments finally got me to write this. 

I hope this will be a great ride.

  Also, if anyone wants to be added/removed from my taglist, please contact me.

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me angel au #angel in hell #season 2 #obey me! #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fanfiction

[im-whatchamccallit]

Next Step//Jung Chanwoo (iKon)

Request: can u write something where Chanwoo (iKON) and his s/o are having se* and the rest of the members barge in expecting Chanwoo to be playing his games or something. Ty

Pairing: Jung Chanwoo x Genderneutral!Reader

Genre: Smut, Established relationship

Warnings: Unprotected sex/creampie, being caught

Words:3.6k

(A/N: I need to get better at making descriptive genderneutral smuts... One day.)

This day was like any other; you come over after Chanwoo invited you, the boys all crowd around you making comments that infantilized you in their attempt to maintain the sweet and innocent persona you presented the night you met them, Chanwoo presses a soft kiss to your forehead before leading you to the sofa in their living room to snuggle against him, and you jokingly say you thought only three of them lived in that home prompting a series of laughter before diverting your attention back to some movie playing on the television. Every week that you came over it was like this, and it was starting to bother you.

You and Chanwoo were approaching your eighth month as a couple and you were hoping things would progress further. Your indoor dates were becoming constants, always at his home or your apartment but you tried not to mind it, knowing he preferred a more private relationship and you’ve happily accepted that, so a night in wasn’t too big of a deal. But it was when, after spending hours alone in a compact space for days at a time, he still wasn’t catching on that you just wanted to fuck. Sure, you could be one of those couples that waited until your wedding night to do the deed, sticking to cuddling and hand holding for the time being, but you were filled with pent-up sexual frustration and you knew he was too, those small kisses becoming more passionate and needy whenever he returned from practice or promotions, the small whimpers he let out when he had to will himself to take things slow, they were clear signs. You wanted him to make the first move, to know for certain you weren’t the only one ready, but it never happened, and you were afraid it’d never come. Until tonight, when a miracle occurred.

“We’re going to that Italian place we tried last week.” Donghyuk stated, dragging you from your daydreams to see the six men pulling on their coats and shoes.

“What? That place is like a 40 minute drive away.” Chanwoo said, arm still wrapped tightly around you as he adjusted himself to sit up straight, your head not leaving his chest.

“I know, but Junhoe kept mentioning it and now we’re all craving it.” Jinhwan said with a sigh, kinda annoyed he has to travel so far just for a bowl of Cacciucco.

“Well, have fun, I guess. We’ll just starve until you come back.” Chanwoo said sarcastically, a soft giggle slipping past you lips as you tried to hide it.

“Shut up, we’re bring you something back. You want anything specific, (Y/n/n)?” Bobby asked, everyone’s eyes suddenly on you as you tried to think, not really caring about food but the heat rising through your body in excitement and anticipation once you realized they’ll be gone for over an hour, wanting nothing more than for them to leave that very second.

“Spaghetti. Regular spaghetti is fine.” You said, giving another bright smile they couldn’t help but coo at.

It didn’t take long for the six men to file out, your eyes watching them closely until the door shut behind, and a sigh of relief leaving your body. You had a golden opportunity right now, to make the first move and take the next step you’ve been itching for. You weren’t nervous or even scared, just ready to make every dream you had of him inside of you come true.

“Channie,” You said cutely, biting down on your bottom lip to gain his attention, his eyes meeting yours and filled with a small glint of curiosity at the sudden distraction. You were usually quiet during movies until he made a comment you’d respond to, so it was a bit odd for you to initiate conversation first this time.

“Do you want to have sex?”

The question caught both of you off guard. You wanted to be direct but the statement felt so strange coming from you, and Chanwoo felt the same. You never talked about sex or made suggestive jokes or comments, so he knew you were being sincere, his only reaction to ask ‘What?’, prompting a scoff to leave you as you practically tore yourself from his arms.

“For the last month and a half, our dates have been at home. We cuddle, watch movies, maybe eat, but that’s all and, you know I don’t mind it, I just got tired of the same thing every time but I started thinking that maybe being inside isn’t so bad. Maybe we can take another step in our relationship and explore the sexual side of it instead of just holding hands and kissing. But, y-you act like you don’t want to, and I don’t want to force you to so, I just want to know if I should stop worrying about it or if you’re ready too.”

The confession was a bit rushed and sloppy, even with all the time you’ve spent mulling over how badly you wanted this, but it was enough to get your point across. Chanwoo couldn’t even look you in the eye, trying to form his own thoughts even as he spent just as long thinking about this. He wanted this, he wanted you, he wanted to take that next step and bring back that spark to your relationship that he could only faintly remember. But your relationship was otherwise perfect, and the thought that an unexpected change could probably drive you away scared him.

“Woo,” You called to him, finally regaining his attention, giving a sad smile as your hand reached to cup his neck, easing your fingers up and into his hair until his face fell into a relaxed state and you couldn’t help by giggle a bit.

“What if you don’t like having sex with me and we break up?” He mumbled, eyes shut to enjoy the scalp massage you gave.

“Chanwoo, I questioned our relationship when you randomly suggested we stop going on dates in public so much. I also questioned our relationship when you let our team die in Apex because you’re a terrible healer,”

“It was my first time being healer, stop bringing that up!” You laughed out loud this time, his eyes opening to see your smile, still as bright and angelic as ever.

“Just think of sex like Apex; you were able to learn how to be a great healer so, if our first time isn’t that great, we can just keep practicing until you’re the best.” Your voice was a bit lower, eyes glazed over and body inching closer to his, his unconsciously doing the same.

“So what if I don’t like anything you do?” He challenged, suddenly more bold now that the situation turned for the better, the tension building around you more pleasant than unbearable, almost enticing you to continue.

You said no words as you moved away from him, his eyes watching your every move like a predator to its prey, except you were both predators, feral and ready to pounce for dominance at any moment, and this was your opportunity to strike.

You were always such an angel, always so sweet and perfect without a flaw, and somehow that statement remained, even with you sat between Chanwoo’s legs, undoing his pants with ease and pulling them down just enough (with his help of course) to release his semi-erect member. Your hands felt so soft on his thighs and your tongue moving effortlessly along the underside of his shaft, dragging up to the tip where you flicked your tongue teasingly, not breaking eye contact with the man above you. Chanwoo tried not show how much you affected him, but he couldn’t stop his underlying desires from taking over, a desperate hand moving to your hair as you took the tip into your mouth, humming playfully at his silent pleas.

You could taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue, a pulse running to your sex at the various thoughts of him. What positions he’d have you in, how his girthy length will feel once he was inside of you stretching you out, how far you can take him into your mouth as he release his load. That last thought was enough to end your teasing, head falling further down his cock until he was at the back of your throat, not wasting time bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks so your warm cavern massaged his dick. Maybe it was your oral sex skills or just the build-up of holding back for months, but Chanwoo felt like he was going to explode, body hot as he swallowed every moan and groan threatening to spill from his lips, fingers curling inside of your locks to keep you there, your hands on his thighs the only thing keeping him from thrusting further into your mouth, although it didn’t seem possible. You were taking him so well, using your tongue to swipe along his balls whenever you were down far enough, a pathetic whine breaking the silence formed around you, causing you to notice the movie had been paused all along, but you thought the way Chanwoo tried to keep his eyes open to watch your movements, lips parted in pleasure while letting you hear how good you made him feel was much better than any film you’ve seen.

“(Y/n/n), I’m-“ He sighed as you pulled back, hand slowly relaxing in your hair as he managed to gaze down at you, that same innocent look in your eyes as when you first arrived.

He wanted to stop you when you began to stand, moving away from him and heading towards the halls and bedrooms.

“You coming?” You called, grinning once you heard him rush from the sofa, your feet excitedly carrying you to his bedroom. It was finally happening.

You entered Chanwoo’s room first, eyes scanning to take in the interior. His television was on with a random Twitch stream still playing despite him being in the living room for most of the day, his bed was cleared yet there were various items of clothing strewn about, leaving you to wonder if you’ll be able to find yours once you both were done.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around your waist, lips eagerly lapping at your neck with large hands impatiently worming up your shirt. Sex was always about taking things slow, learning each other’s bodies and creating your own dance that no one else could understand but you two. But you didn’t want to take things slow, you wanted to Tango instead of Waltz, to have a taste of the best dish in the world before learning to make it. You just wanted him.

“Chanwoo, stop teasing.” You breathed out, hands trying to capture his as one began to undo your pants, the other toying with your nipple and making your chest heave in desire.

“After what you pulled,” You bit back a moan at the feeling of his hard-on pressing against your butt, eyes fluttering in his direction in an attempt to see him and the devilish smirk growing on your flesh.

“I think you can wait. Now, I need your clothes off. Now.”His voice was chilling, dominating and unsparing, an obedience you never knew existed inside of you emerging and making you follow his commands.

You listened carefully to his footsteps as he marched past you, giving you space to undress and time for you to predict his next move. You were kicking away your pants by the time he reached his nightstand, pulling out a small clear bottle of lube. You immediately perked up when he faced you, not bothering to hide your excitement while climbing onto his bed, eyes hooded with lust and hunger swirling through your irises. He was silent as he worked, squirting a stream of the clear water-based gel onto his middle and forefinger as he approached the bed. He didn’t care how messy it was, watching it drip onto both the carpeted floor and his palm but coating his fingers the way he needed before kneeling between your spread legs. Your face followed his as he leaned in to you, desperately catching his lips in a sloppy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing with one another. Your head was spinning, the air was stuffy and hot around you as you moaned into Chanwoo’s mouth, hips bucking desperately once you felt his slick fingers tracing along your hole, your body begging him to keep going and, by some miracle, he didn’t tease you too long, slipping inside of you slowly as he stretched out the somewhat virginal opening.

“Chan-“ The pathetic whimper you let out fueled him, his lips moving down to your neck as he began to thrust his digits in and out of you, not wanting to drown your sounds of pleasure any longer.

You weren’t a virgin, yet after eight months of not having sex with Chanwoo, and seven months prior to meeting him of not having sex with anyone, you felt like you were. The way you panted out whines while rolling your lower half into his hand in a haphazardly manner whereas he was curling and twisting inside of you with ease, as if he’s known your body forever, made you realize he had a lot more experience than you initially thought, maybe a lot more than you. And you loved it.

Your eyes were threatening to shut at the various sensations, a burning inside of you from the mixed feelings of his fingertips penetrating the almost hidden spot within you and his lips traveling down your body, but you didn’t want to miss the way his mouth immediately latched onto your sex, a stuttered moan echoing through the somewhat spacious room as his tongue worked against you. You couldn’t believe Chanwoo thought you’d leave him for being bad in bed, and he couldn’t believe he thought your relationship was perfect by staying at first base and that you’d leave if he took anything further, yet here you were; Chanwoo making the coil in your stomach tighten while he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head and his mouth working wonders on you. Taking this next step in your relationship was the best decision of both your lives.

“S-slow down. I’m cl- Ah!” Your legs were twitching, desperate to wrap around his head and pull him close yet your hand remained threaded in his hair, able to pull him away at any second but instead allowing him to ravage you.

You didn’t want to cum yet, you wanted to watch his face contort in pleasure as you fucked him the way you always wanted, yet you could feel the pressure in your body building, limbs tensing and convulsing as your nails clawed at his scalp, hips rolling as high-pitched warnings of your undoing left your lips, Chanwoo watching you closely as you finally released, back arching and body practically frozen as his mouth continued to ride you through your high as he swallowed your juices, mouth and fingers slowly pulling away from you as your labored breathes filled his ears.

“You okay, baby?” He asked lowly, bringing his body up until your faces were aligned again.

Your eyes peeled open, your vision crossed before you could make out his face, a bit of your essence on the corner of his lips as he smiled down at you. You leaned forward, kissing him to suck away the residue, moaning at how sweet you tasted in his mouth and he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Do you think you can keep going?” He asked, certain you’d tell him now based on the fucked out expression you had, but the way your hands pulled at his shirt and tossing it away proved him wrong, his hands moving fast to get rid of his pants and boxers as his mouth eagerly found yours again.

At this point, it wasn’t about teasing or taking things slow to see how well your bodies meshed together, it was all about instinct, and Chanwoo couldn’t ignore his any longer. He was glad that you both were on the same page as he slipped his member into your lube-filled hole, a simultaneous sigh of pleasure escaping you both as he bottomed out inside of you. He didn’t hesitate to start moving, grabbing onto your thighs to hoist them around his waist as his hips moved flush against yours. His pace wasn’t too fast but it was impactful, your body shifting along the mattress with each stroke and bouncing as he reached deeper. Your moans were breathy and gentle, only encouraging your boyfriend to pull back just enough to reposition your legs on his shoulder, his pace now faster.

He loved seeing you like this, eyes half-lidded and lips parted until you sank your teeth into them to keep from crying out any louder but to no avail, he even noticed your hand going to your groin to massage your sex, a desperate attempt to bring you to another orgasm. It was amusing to think his perfect angel was a touch starved nympho just begging to cum over and over again.

“Cute.” He cooed teasingly, smirking down at you as your eyes met, desperation and exhaustion filling your gaze.

“You were begging me to fuck you earlier, now you can’t even speak. C’mon, (Y/n/n), tell me how good you feel.” You wanted to roll your eyes at his usual juvenile behavior, but you’d be lying if you said his backhanded degradation wasn’t a turn on.

Chanwoo reached forward to cup your warm cheek, thumb brushing over your plump lips as his movements still haven’t let up.

“You’re speechless now, aren’t you?”                                                                                                

“S-shut up.” You managed to stammer out, a faint yelp leaving you as he came an abrupt stop, hips pressed to yours and cock deep inside the walls of your tight hole.

“If you can still talk, that means I’m not doing a good job.” His voice held a tone that you couldn’t quite describe yet you knew it was trouble, you were even more worried when he leaned forward until your knees were just by your face.

You didn’t have time to process his motives until his hips began moving again, this time at a more brutal pace that made your breath hitch and eyes widen, the same moans you let out before increasing in volume and coming out sporadically, his hips barely leaving yours with each thrust causing the room to fill with the echoes of skin connecting with skin. Your hand left from between your bodies as his abdomen pressed to yours, the friction against your sex more effective than your own hand and every part of your body aching for more, Chanwoo groaning at the way your hole clenched around his member. You couldn’t think straight, wanting to tell him to slow down yet needing him to go faster, wanting him to go deeper yet feeling pain with each stretch of his dick, vision blurry and the Twitch stream you had once forgotten somehow louder while your moans faded into nothingness. Both your breathing was rough, his eyes fixed on your figure and the way it fit beneath him. He waited so long to have you here, wanting this moment to last forever, but the way your head lulled against the mattress, hips eagerly rolling against his as sob-like moans escaped your throat along with his name, he knew he wouldn’t last, already feeling his member twitch inside of you and he could feel you were close to.

“Where?” He asked hurriedly, not bothering to explain as you swallowed hard, trying to find your voice.

“I-inside. Please.” Your voice was simply a whisper at that point but he heard you loud and clear, giving a few more thrust and ready to release into you until-

“Hey, did (Y/n) leave already? We got them their spaghet-“ Hanbin froze at the scene before him, his groupmates not far behind and catching an eyeful of their maknae in such a vulnerable state.

Chanwoo was red faced, eyes squeezing shut and head low as he felt himself release into you involuntarily, your eyes shut as whimpers left your mouth at the feeling of your own orgasm, throat aching from your previous moans, not noticing the group of men staring at the state of you two in the doorway.

“T-the door was open and it sounded like you were playing ‘For Honor’ so we figured we didn’t have to-“

“Just leave. Please.” Chanwoo said hurriedly, your eyes opening to see twelve familiar ones staring down at you, your mouth opening for you to scream but all you could muster was a mortified gasp.

“I’ll just leave this here for you.” He said meekly while placing the bag of food on the floor, shutting the bedroom door without another word as they all felt as awkward as you did.

You weren’t sure if it was the fact they saw you naked, or the fact they potentially witnessed you being fucked, or the fact you weren’t smart enough to close the door for privacy, or the fact they may or may not have watched you have an orgasm while simultaneously being filled with cum, but you were embarrassed. And, from the way Chanwoo tried to avoid your gaze, you could tell he was as well.

“So, you hungry?” He said shyly, your eyes wide in disbelief as he nonchalantly tried to move on, pulling out of you and making his way to the bag lying by his door.

You didn’t think you could move on so easily from a moment like this, the fear of walking out that door and facing any of them gnawing away at you as your once pure reputation with them was now destroyed but, the way Chanwoo approached you with a to-go box of spaghetti and his own of chicken parmesan, stomach rumbling in hunger, you couldn’t deny that for the moment you didn’t mind eating.

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[dingoes8myrp]

An Examination of Joss Whedon

On February 11th, Charisma Carpenter made a post on her Instagram account detailing mistreatment she experienced on the sets of Angel and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Carpenter worked on both shows from 1996 to 2004 and attributes this mistreatment to show creator Joss Whedon.

On the same day, I made a post on my Tumblr and my WordPress accounts regarding my stance on this topic. I felt it was important for me to post something quickly due to the large number of Buffyverse followers and mutuals on my Tumblr.

I was overwhelmed by the likes, reblogs, and comments this post received in less than twenty-four hours. I’m so glad so many people support Charisma Carpenter and others who are speaking out about their experiences.

Workplace mistreatment is insidious, and too often the systems in place to mediate these situations are designed to protect the employer rather than the person experiencing mistreatment. This happens everywhere in every industry. When people in the public eye draw attention to these issues it helps bring awareness to everyone and encourages societal change.

In today’s climate, social media moves faster than legal or internal HR systems. This means, more often than not, accusations spread, opinions form, and action is taken long before any investigation can occur. Because of this, it’s important for people to seek out the facts themselves in order to stay informed or make decisions about who in fandom they choose to support or not.

I’m going to go through various tid-bits I’ve seen over the past twenty-five years regarding Joss Whedon’s behavior, which prompted my quick response to Charisma Carpenter’s post. I feel it’s important to share this with those who may be new to the fandom, or those who doubt Charisma Carpenter’s claims and those of others.

The Bronze

Before there was Twitter, there was The Bronze.

The Bronze was the official online gathering place of Buffyverse fans. Joss Whedon and others involved with the shows occasionally popped in and posted, interacting with the fans. There was speculation about the trajectory of the show, discussion about lore, fan theories, and behind the scenes rumors.

I didn’t learn about these forums until I was in high school (from 2002 to 2006) and I never posted. I just read up on the fun factoids I could find. I wasn’t a heavy Internet user back then. We had one computer in my house and it was shared with my parents. I was only allowed on for so much time per day, yada yada.

I think Buffy the Vampire Slayer was one of the first shows – if not the first – to utilize this kind of creator/fan interaction. It wasn’t a regular thing back then.

The vibe of these forums was very laidback. When someone directly involved with Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel posted (known as a V.I.P.) it was with a very casual, unmoderated tone. There was no screenshotting every word to be saved for later. Someone from the media couldn’t grab a comment made and spread it across the Internet in real time. There were mailing lists – collections of email addresses for people who wanted updates on show spoilers or particular non-show activities of various actors. Fan letters were still a thing – actual snail mail letters you could send to actors and writers of the shows. Things moved slowly, and there wasn’t as much transparency as there is on the Internet today with sites like Instagram and Twitter.

In a series of posts made on November 6th, 2001, Joss Whedon reacted to the airing of the musical episode, “Once More with Feeling.” He called it “the biggest undertaking of my life,” but expressed his appreciation toward the UPN network, the cast, and crew – particularly Anthony Head, Amber Benson, and James Marsters. He calls Anthony Head “the golden throat” and writes of James Marsters, “And James, who always tells me to do everything I dream of, then brings that intense voice and those cheekbones along for the ride.”

All he writes about Amber Benson is, “Amber… just, you know… Amber….”

Alarmingly absent from his praise is star Sarah Michelle Gellar, who “went back and forth” over whether or not to sing in the episode. “I’m not a singer,” she told EW. She didn’t feel prepared enough and “didn’t feel confident.” As someone who broke out of her comfort zone and pulled off a wonderful leading performance, Gellar was certainly deserving of some acknowledgment.

Seemingly realizing he neglected to mention Marti Noxon, Whedon tacked on, “Do you know anyone that hot who can run a show? Do you? I don’t think so. What a voice.” At the time, alongside comments about James Marsters’ cheekbones and being “a little gay” for Anthony Head, this seemed to be an attempt at an edgy complement (though a little cringey). Marti Noxon was a new showrunner for Buffy, taking over for Joss. Referring to her as hot rather than praising her work is a little demeaning, in my opinion, particularly when it was up to him to make sure she was respected and taken seriously in filling his shoes.

On May 22nd, 2002, Whedon posted about “the gay thing” – probably not for the first time. Regarding some fan reactions to the death of Tara Maclay, Joss wrote, “I knew some people would be angry with me for destroying the only gay couple on the show, but the idea that I COULDN’T kill Tara because she was gay is as offensive to me as the idea that I DID kill her because she was gay. Willow’s story was not about being gay. It was about weakness, addiction, loss… the way life hits you in the gut right when you think you’re back on your feet.”

Keep in mind, at the time, Willow was one of the first gay main characters – if not THE first – on a major primetime show in the sci-fi/fantasy genre. Having a gay couple on a major show like this was not a regular thing, which made the shocking death of Tara and the dark turn of Willow particularly hard-hitting. While Whedon isn’t saying anything particularly inflammatory here, it does show a sort of crass attitude toward the removal of this representation from the show, which had become so important to so many fans – and still is now.

There’s not a lot of meaty information to be found that I could dig up, but I wanted to give people an idea of this landscape back in the day. I picked out those particular Joss Whedon posts because they show a very casual disregard for the women involved in the shows – an insidious and subtle thing, but it’s there.

Fighting with Buffy

Jeff Pruitt was a stunt coordinator on Buffy the Vampire Slayer from 1997 to 2000. He also happened to be romantically involved with Sarah Michelle Gellar’s stunt double, Sophia Crawford. Both would exit the show by its fifth season. According to Pruitt, it was not an amicable exit.

Pruitt claims he and Crawford were treated badly on the set, that Crawford was “one never ending injury” and she had “reached the end of her rope.” He said that they were threatened and blackballed when they made attempts to leave before the 100th episode. They got an opportunity to work on Dark Angel, but the people at Dark Angel supposedly received a phone call from “someone high up at their studio” and were told not to hire Pruitt and Crawford. He suspects this was to keep Sophia Crawford from leaving Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

Their firing was unceremonious, according to Pruitt. “Sophia was told point blank that she was being fired because she knew too much about things,” he claimed. He said Joss Whedon and Jane Espenson threatened Crawford, saying if she spoke about what happened on set she’d “never work in this town again.”

Jeff Pruitt spoke about “sneaky politics” behind the scenes, saying “there was something weird going on” in the months leading up to his and Crawford’s exit. Pruitt claims Sarah Michelle Gellar was a “spoiled starlett” and that she was “out to get” him and Crawford. He attributes statements he made in private emails that were later read by Joss Whedon to his firing.

It’s worth noting that many people have stated that Sarah Michelle Gellar is undeserving of a “diva” label. When asked in 2004 what it was like working with Sarah Michelle Gellar, Julie Benz said, “She’s extremely talented and generous. Her reputation is just completely untrue. Unfortunately in Hollywood if you’re young and female and you have an opinion you get labeled a diva or something…else. Sarah’s an amazing talent, but she got labeled.”

In a 2013 interview on Bravo’s Watch What Happens Live, Alyson Hannigan answered a series of rapid-fire questions about Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When asked who was the most “annoyed” by the end of the show, she said, “Sarah,” referring to Sarah Michelle Gellar. When the audience booed, Hannigan clarified, “Well, she had a big career going, and it was a lot of work.” When asked when Gellar started to “hate” the show, Hannigan quickly said season three. In a later interview for Huffpost Live, Hannigan clarified her comments further. “[Sarah Michelle Gellar] worked her butt off,” she stated. “She worked eighteen-hour days for years.” Hannigan said she wouldn’t have classified Gellar as “annoyed,” saying, “she was super professional.”

Honestly, I’m Team Sarah on this one. I couldn’t find corroborating sources for Jeff Pruitt’s claims of her “diva” behavior, but I found several sources stating otherwise. Gellar did confirm during a cast reunion that she may have oversold her stunt experience, which ultimately would have meant more work for her stunt double and the stunt coordinator. It seems to me like this set everything on a bad foot with that team. But, the reasons Jeff Pruitt and Sophia Crawford gave for their exit had little-to-nothing to do with Gellar.

Vincent Kartheiser

Vincent Kartheiser played Connor on Angel, and he did a number of interviews talking about his experience on the show. I picked his interviews because I’ve always found him to be very candid and he doesn’t seem to shy away from uncomfortable answers to questions. A few of his answers provide a little insight into the mood on the set at times, and Charisma Carpenter’s attitude.

When Charisma Carpenter was pregnant on the show, she had a storyline that heavily involved Connor, so the two spent a lot of time working together on set. He was asked about her pregnancy and how it affected filming. In a 2003 interview for BBC Cult, Kartheiser said of Carpenter, “she was a great sport and would suck up the pain even though you could see that she was in it.”

In another interview for Angel Magazine from the same year, he said Carpenter had “an abundance of energy for a working, pregnant lady who, right in the heart of her pregnancy, they put her in so much.”

It’s worth noting Vincent Kartheiser had his own issues with the show. “What really made me interested in Angel was the idea that as a show, it changed so much and all the characters could change so much,” he told Angel Magazine. “It wasn’t that clichéd kind of ‘show up, do your thing, go home’ all the time.” Unfortunately, the potential that interested him never came to fruition for his character. “As the season went on, we never really got to deal with the relationship problems between me and David,” Kartheiser said, referring to David Boreanaz as Angel. “I never really got the opportunity to bond with any other characters.” He expressed a feeling that there was nowhere for his character to go and that Connor’s motivations seemed to change from week to week. “There were parts of the season I didn’t have the opportunity to stretch,” he explained, “that it felt like I was doing the same scene over and over.”

Vincent Kartheiser did a later interview with Giantmag.com where he reiterated some of these frustrations. For him, the character of Connor started to get stale early on. “Every week I’d show up and have a scene with Cordelia,” he said, “then Angel would show up and I’d have some sort of conflict with him. There’d be a couple of fight scenes where I’d fight with them even though I didn’t want to and then I would sulk and leave. That to me was every episode.” He felt the writers had written Connor “into a corner” and that fans responded poorly to him.

When comparing his experience on Angel to his experience playing Pete Campbell on Mad Men, Kartheiser expressed a lackluster feeling on the set of Angel. “There was a real sense on Angel that people were just doing a job,” Kartheiser said of the set. “The grips, the DP, even the directors would kind of just show up, do their job and go home.” This atmosphere is a direct contrast to what had attracted Vincent Kartheiser to the show in the first place. “On Mad Men we also have Matthew Weiner on set all the time whereas Joss [Whedon] was hardly ever on Angel,” Kartheiser explained. “I think Joss was doing Firefly at that point and was in love with his next project. I had a friend who filmed a few episodes in the first season of Angel and said everyone was invested and there was crazy energy, so maybe I just came into it late.”

Kartheiser also delved deeper into his frustrations over the direction (or lack thereof) of his character. “I let them know right off the bat that some of the choices they were making [about Conner] were wrong,” he said. “I showed up to play that character and I had a lot of ideas. And they didn’t like any of those ideas.” As a result, Kartheiser said he got “jaded” and “angry” at the show. “I felt like it wasn’t a collaboration, that the people I was working with didn’t care to take risks.”

In hindsight, he went on to say, “I was never a fan of Buffy, I’ll say it straight out. I was never a fan of Angel. I always found it hard to say Joss’ words.”

From all these comments, both from the beginning of Vincent Kartheiser’s journey as Connor, and from a few years after the show ended, it seems like he was excited for the opportunity, but ultimately disappointed with the overall experience. He also revealed how uncomfortable Charisma Carpenter had to be during filming while she was pregnant, but noted her energy and attitude were never a problem.

Farewell Cordelia

Prior to Charisma Carpenter’s official exit from Angel, her character arc had taken a very strange turn and Cordelia had been ominously left in a coma. Concern grew when Charisma Carpenter was not included in the cast of season 5. In a 2003 interview with TV Guide Online, Joss Whedon stated, “The Angel/Cordelia [love story] had gone pretty much as far as we wanted to take it” and that it wasn’t popular with the fans. “It just seemed like a good time for certain people to move on,” he continued. “Not completely, obviously. I’m hoping that we’ll get Charisma to do some episodes as Cordelia sometime during the year.”

TV Guide asked, “Isn’t that a disservice to fans who invested all those years in the character and her redemption? It seems an odd thing to do to the show’s leading lady.” Whedon responded, “That’s a fluctuating concept, the leading lady thing. And it is a little odd. Some choices are ultimately kind of controversial about who stays and who goes and who we focus on. But obviously, we had to have her out of a bunch of episodes toward the end of the year because she was having a baby… so what we had [leading] up to it wasn’t a dynamic I wanted to play out that much.” When asked if things were left on good terms with Charisma Carpenter, Joss Whedon stated he wouldn’t discuss that in an interview.

From Charisma Carpenter’s perspective, she was uncomfortable with Cordelia’s storyline prior to her coma and her death. “It was creepy,” she said of Cordelia’s relationship with Connor. “Connor was Angel’s son and half my age.” Carpenter stated it was important for her to return to wrap up the character’s storyline. “We didn’t want to just leave Cordelia in a coma,” she stated. “Whatever happens after this, I’m open. But it’s just best this story be [resolved] now. Otherwise, it’s a disservice to the fans of our show.” When pressed regarding whether or not she’d return to the show, Carpenter replied, “I don’t think it’ll be necessary. You never say never. However, at this point in time, I don’t see a future for her.” She continued with, “I feel like Joss feels – the Cordelia stories have been told. There were no other directions to go with her.”

Carpenter’s final appearance as Cordelia was an emotional experience. “We’ve been crying for the last two days,” she said in a behind-the-scenes interview. “I’m so physically drained.” She wasn’t the only one affected, either. “The director was crying, the crew was crying, we were crying,” she said. She called it a sad goodbye personally, professionally, and story-wise.

Working with Joss Whedon

Over the years, Joss Whedon gained a reputation for being unconventional to work with. Many actors from the Buffyverse have said they were unhappy with their characters’ creative paths. Sarah Michelle Gellar felt season six “betrayed” who Buffy was, saying she had to be “talked off a ledge” a number of times during filming.

Nicholas Brendon felt the character of Xander was “underrated,” particularly during season seven. “Joss did have a talk with Sarah and I because he was kind of contemplating the idea of Xander and Buffy ending up together at the end of season seven,” Brendon told AV Club. “We were both for it, but then that never came to fruition and I lost my eye.”

On an episode of Michael Rosenbaum’s Inside of You podcast, James Marsters said he was “terrified” of Joss Whedon. “I wasn’t designed to be a romantic character,” he explained. “The audience reacted that way to it. And I remember [Joss Whedon] backed me up against a wall one day, and he was just like, ‘I don’t care how popular you are, kid. You’re dead! You hear me? You’re dead! Dead!” Rosenbaum asked, “Was he kidding around?” and Marsters replied, “No. Hell, no.” Marsters also said he had “open wounds” on his scalp from over-using bleach on his roots every eight days to keep the roots from growing out.

Multiple actors from Angel have talked about Whedon’s habit of making actors squirm. David Boreanaz spoke about how he learned about the Angel spinoff during a twentieth anniversary cast reunion. “I got a phone call that Joss wanted to talk to me,” Boreanaz recalled. “The only thing he said was, ‘I want you to come into my office tomorrow,’ and I’m like, ‘I’m fired.’” He described having a night of “angst” and spent the following day working on some flashback scenes. When he finally met with Whedon at lunch it took some time for Whedon to tell him his character was getting a spin-off. Alexis Denisof expressed a similar knee-jerk feeling of “uh-oh,” but had an idea the spin-off was filming. However, Amy Acker had a similar story to what Boreanaz experienced when she was told about her character Fred’s transformation into Illyria. “It seems to be an echo of, like, ‘Hey, can you meet me for coffee tomorrow?’ and I’m like, ‘Ohh, they’re firing me!’ And we sat down to coffee and he said, ‘I just wanted you to know I’m killing Fred.’ And he waited, like, really a long time.” Charisma Carpenter chimed in, “He likes to do that!” Acker was then informed she would still be on the show as Illyria.

Charisma Carpenter and Marti Noxon have shared their own stories about Joss’s “You’re fired, just kidding” stories. Seth Green quipped “He did that to me too, but it took.”

Whedon’s View of Women

While Joss Whedon considers his writing to be feminist, his portrayal of women as well as other statements he’s made contradict this. In 2013, he gave a speech for Equality Now about his dislike of the word “feminist.” While this speech earned him some acclaim, it also earned him some backlash from the feminist community. This was mainly because he claimed it’s natural for people to be equal, and to add “-ist” to the end of the word “feminist” implies that people’s natural state is to be unequal. This stance was seen as disrespectful to Feminism as a movement, for some.

Joss Whedon received wide criticism for his portrayal of women in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. One critic, Scott Mendelson, talked about Whedon’s portrayal of Scarlet Witch and Black Widow in Avengers: Age of Ultron. “Scarlet Witch eventually has to be coaxed into bravery by one of the male heroes,” Mendelson writes of Elizabeth’s Olson’s character. Mendelson was even less thrilled with Scarlet Johansson’s Natasha Romanoff. “Maybe I shouldn’t be annoyed that the only major female character’s primary arc is a theoretically unrequited pining for a nice guy with major anger issues,” he writes, “or that said character briefly gets captured by the villain in the second act and tossed in a cage for no reason other than to be rescued by her male compatriots.” Backlash over this film caused Whedon to quit Twitter. In an article for Gizmodo, writers Meredith Woerner and Katharine Trendacosta point out that Joss Whedon teased a “killer” backstory for Natasha Romanoff. “Instead of an assassin constantly struggling with finding moral lines she didn’t know existed, we got a woman who feels incomplete because she cannot have babies,” Woerner and Trendacosta concluded.

In 2017, Whedon’s ex-wife Kai Cole wrote a blog for The Wrap stating, “he used his relationship with me as a shield, both during and after our marriage, so no one would question his relationships with other women or scrutinize his writing as anything other than feminist.”

Cole alleges Whedon wrote her a letter in which he said, “When I was running ‘Buffy,’ I was surrounded by beautiful, needy, aggressive young women… As a guilty man I knew the only way to hide was to act as though I were righteous… In many ways I was the HEIGHT of normal, in this culture. We’re taught to be providers and companions and at the same time, to conquer and acquire — specifically sexually — and I was pulling off both!” At the end of her essay, Cole wrote, “I want the people who worship him to know he is human, and the organizations giving him awards for his feminist work, to think twice in the future about honoring a man who does not practice what he preaches.”

In response to Kai Cole’s letter, Laura M. Browning wrote in an AV Club article, “I was sad, but not shocked—maybe a little embarrassed I hadn’t looked more closely at some very clear problems in his work… His work has plenty of male gaze and women in refrigerators and some narratively pointless rape scenes—it’s all right there, in hundreds of hours of television and film—but boy, it sure is a lot more comfortable to listen to a guy tell you he’s a feminist than listen to a lot of women telling you he’s not.”

Whedon’s veneer of feminism has been cracking for several years.

Recent Allegations

Actor Ray Fisher claimed Joss Whedon behaved inappropriately on the set of Justice League, tweeting, “Joss Wheadon’s on-set treatment of the cast and crew of Justice League was gross, abusive, unprofessional, and completely unacceptable.” Fisher also accused Geoff Johns and Jon Berg of enabling Whedon’s behavior. An investigation was done by Warner Brothers and co-stars Jason Mamoa and Kiersey Clemons publicly supported Fisher. Ultimately, the investigation concluded and “remedial action” was taken. The action taken has not been specified.

Shortly after, Joss Whedon exited the HBO series The Nevers, which Fisher attributes to his own claims.

Team Charisma

Those who have shown support to Charisma Carpenter include: Sarah Michelle Gellar Ray Fisher J. August Richards Michelle Trachtenberg Amber Benson Eliza Dushku Jose Molina Marti Noxon Emma Caulfield James Marsters Anthony Head Clare Kramer James C. Leary Sophia Crawford David Boreanaz Amy Acker Julie Benz Danny Strong Adam Busch Tom Lenk Nicholas Brendon Jeff Mariotte

Others who have written about Joss Whedon or come out to support those coming forward:

Courtney Enlow Nell Scovell Glen Mazzara

My Conclusion

As I stated in my previous post on this topic, I stand with Team Charisma. It is not okay for a person in a position of power over others in the workplace to misuse that power in an inappropriate or abusive manner. No matter how talented that person may be and how beloved the work may be.

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #angel the series #joss whedon #charisma carpenter

[lykaokrios]

Jealous - Thane Krios x F!Shepard

My first posted Thane fanfic 💚 I’ve written fanfics for quite a few fandoms before, but never ended up posting any of my Mass Effect stuff anywhere before, here’s my first :) 

Paring: Thane Krios x F!Shepard

Word Count: 2,242

Description:  "Jealous over a magazine. They didn’t even know if they’d live until the end of this cycle, and he was upset over a magazine."

Warnings: None

My AO3

“Siha?” Thane calls out questioningly as he steps into her quarters.

“Come in, I’m over here,” Shepard shouts back from the other side of the room.

“I’m not interrupting anything I hope?” He asks as he walks further into the room, leaning against her desk when he spots her on the sofa.

“No, I’m just planning,” she replies looking up from her datapad to give him a tired smile. “When you promise fifteen people you’ll do twenty different things, the log book gets a bit messy if you don’t prioritize.”

“I see,” he nods giving her a smile back. “Don’t overreach Siha, you want to help everyone but you also must help yourself.”

“I know, I know,” she waves dismissively at him. “But things like figuring out why Grunt wants to tear a hole in my ship is pretty important. Finding data for some guy named Ish, not so much.”

“Just remember to relax sometimes,” he adds as he looks at her model ship collection over the desk.

“I do,” she responds looking back down at her datapad. “I have some down time.”

“Is that right?” He questions, his eyes drifting to the cover of a magazine laying beside her terminal. 'Sexiest Drell Men of 2185'.

Her response evades him as he wrestles with the feeling of unease in his stomach looking at the cover. Not a feeling he’s used to feeling. If he’d ever felt it at all. A mixture of aggravation, discontent, and unease all rolled up into one.

Reaching over he flips over the magazine while trying to calm himself. His eyes glossing over the back. 'Want to meet one of our models? Write into Fornax today to win!'

His fingers grip the edge of the desk, as he tries to will the annoying thoughts from his head. Lifting up the magazine, he holds it tightly in his hand before dropping it to the floor. “I… have something I must attend to,” he states before backing out of her quarters and all but running to the elevator, hearing her voice call his name after him.

Shepard could have nearly any man in the galaxy. An angel sent by Arashu to this destructive plane of existence they were sorting through. A rare light of hope in a galaxy he’d long seen dark.

It had been easy to fall for her. How could he not? Devoting her life to impossible cause after impossible cause all to save a galaxy that seemed to tear her down at every turn. Her small acts of kindness on their missions, defending those who couldn’t defend themselves. Throwing herself across the battlefield like it’s an art only she truly understood. Elegant, graceful, deadly.

And their solo talks on the ship, hours debating philosophy, trading battle tactics, enthusing over guns and books alike. That genuine smile she beamed at him, telling him she believed in him, that he was more than the life he’d destined himself to. The worry in her eyes and tenderness of her touch when he’d taken a bad hit on the battlefield. The pure kindness she showed him and the overwhelming affection in the simplest touches.

After what seemed like ages, the elevator doors finally opened to the third floor. Thane quickly exits it, heading toward his quarters, before changing his mind and turning into the men’s restroom instead. Glancing around the room to ensure he was alone, he approaches the sink to look at his reflection in the mirror.

His looks. Not something he’d ever put any thought into. Not even something he’d paid much attention to. Unlatching his jacket, he lets it fall to the floor before unzipping his top. He grimaces as he turns himself various directions. The last ten years had snuck up on him faster than he wanted to admit. He was nearly 40, and his career hadn’t exactly been kind to his body. His scales littered with scars shown under the intense bathroom light.

He sighs as he meets his gaze in the mirror and zips up his top. Jealous over a magazine. They didn’t even know if they’d live until the end of this cycle, and he was upset over a magazine. Over his age. Over his scars. Over his mortality. Over not being the young, healthy, and unscarred Drell on the cover of Shepard’s Fornax magazine. The person that could stay at her side indefinitely, not trying to outrun an invisible clock ticking closer to the end each day.

Snatching his jacket off the floor, he slips it back on before flinging the bathroom door open and storming into Life Support.

As the doors slide shut behind him, he looks up surprised to see Shepard sitting in her seat at his table. Her hands in her lap, a concerned expression across her face.

Taking a deep breath, his mind races to come up with an excuse as he slips into his seat in front of her.

They sit in silence as he grows nervous under her intense gaze, an awkward cough from him finally prompting her to talk.

“It was a joke, from Kasumi,” she says quietly, her cheeks reddening.

“What?”

Sighing, Shepard pulls the magazine out from under the table and slaps it onto the desk. Flipping to the title page, she turns it toward Thane.

Glancing at her then down at the magazine, he’s met with a bright pink piece of paper stuck to the page, “Happened to see this on Omega and thought you might enjoy this for when lover boy is too busy with his mediations, happy reading Shep.”

His mouth opens to speak, before snapping shut. His frills lifting in embarrassment as he avoids her gaze. “Oh,” he simply replies after a few moments.

“I didn’t think to hide it,” she explains sheepishly. “She’d left it there for me, and I just read the note then tossed it back on the desk to deal with it later.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide it,” he replies. “It shouldn’t bother me.”

“Well… if it was the other way around I’d be bothered,” she admits with a shrug.

“Siha I-" he begins before his shoulders slump and he stares down at the table in defeat.

Standing up from her seat, Shepard goes around the table to Thane, pulling his chair out further from the table and sitting on his lap. Her arms wrap around his waist, her legs across and over his lap, and her head on his shoulder tucked into his neck.

His body immediately relaxes into hers, and he rests his head on hers as her lips brush against his neck and frills.

“I haven’t read the thing, but if you’re in it I’m jealous, and if you aren’t I’m offended,” she says softly after a few minutes, prompting a dry laugh from Thane.

“And why is that?” He asks.

“Because if you’re not there’s been an egregious error, but if you are, I don’t exactly like sharing Krios,” she teases, her fingers brushing across his exposed chest.

“Very clearly not an error Siha,” he adds, humming slightly at her touch.

“Very much so an error,” she insists. “The blind could see that body with the way your leathers hug it.”

“Is that so?”

“Hell yeah it’s so, I about got shot the first time I put you on a mission team. You were ahead of me ducked behind a crate, your muscles on your arms and shoulders tense while you were shooting, your pants way too damn tight on your ass. Then you flipped around facing me, leaning to the side to continue shooting as your jacket fell away from your chest, your pants strained against your whole lower body, and you caught my eye and smiled. About got myself killed again, because I was distracted by you.”

“Then one day you just show up with these piercings,” she continues. “Like ‘oh yeah I already had it pierced’ and ask me if I think they suit you.”

“I was unaware you were struggling Siha,” he chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Not your fault that you’re incredibly attractive,” she adds with a shrug. “Though thankfully that battlefield gawking has gone down to a minimum now that I get to personally help remove that armor afterwards.”

“Not as tempting now that you have it?”

“Oh still as tempting, I just know the view later will be better,” she presses several light kisses along his frills, causing a shiver to go up his spine.

“You’re making it very difficult to not just lay you across this table now,” he mutters as she laughs softly against him.

The sound of the room’s door sliding open tears him from his thoughts, and he looks down quickly to Shepard in his lap. While they hadn’t exactly spoke of hiding their relationship, they tended to pull away from one another when they were interrupted.

She gives him a quick shrug and doesn’t move from her position in his lap as they wait for the person to come in.

“Need something?” Thane finally calls out to the silence of the open door.

“I’m just looking for the Commander,” Jacob’s voice responds back. “She wasn’t in her quarters, so I was seeing if she’s just making her rounds. You seen her?”

“What do you need Jacob?” Shepard replies, still not bothering to remove herself from her position on Thane’s lap.

“Commander?” Jacob questions, finally stepping into the room looking around, his eyes widening when he spots her.

“What do you need?” She repeats, turning slightly to meet his gaze.

“I- well you had said you’d let me know when we’d be able to check out that distress signal I talked to you about,” he answers, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Shit, yeah, sorry about that,” she lifts her arm as her omni-tool appears, and types into it quickly. “We’re near Tuchanka so we’re stopping there first to get Grunt checked out and rescue Mordin’s student. From there we’ll stop in the the Citadel to pick up supplies on our way to the distress signal. Did something change with the situation that we need to get there quicker?”

“No, that’s fine,” Jacob responds. “So what’s… going on Commander?”

“Hm?” she asks looking back over to him.

“You just cuddling the squad in your down time?”

Sighing, Shepard drops her feet down to the floor and turns on Thane’s lap to face Jacob, “Really Jacob?”

“I’m just surprised. Trusting a well known assassin to watch your back is already pushing it, to trust him to this extent… unnecessarily risky,” he comments crossing his arms.

Pulling herself up from Thane’s lap, Shepard crosses the room to stand in front of Jacob, her own arms crossing as she stares him down, “We have a group of dangerous people that are the best at what they do, all on a ship owned by an organization seen as incredibly dangerous by most of the galaxy, fighting impossible odds, against dangerous enemies, into a mission none of us may come back from. I don’t see how who I’m dating is a notable risk or of your concern Mr. Taylor. And if you actually took some time to get to know Thane, maybe you wouldn’t have such harsh criticism of him on our ship.”

“I- apologize commander,” Jacob responds immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Thank you for answering my question, I will be in the armory if you need me ma’am,” he finishes before backing out of the room quickly.

As the doors slide shut, Shepard’s tense muscles relax once again when she turns to look at Thane, “Sorry about that.”

“His views of me aren’t your fault,” he says simply. “You’re too kind.”

“I suppose I could have yelled a bit,” she muses, sitting on the table in front of him.

Laughing, he stands up to get in front of her, “I meant to myself, not Mr. Taylor.”

“We’ve all had to kill,” she responds dismissively. “Judging you because you’re trained as an assassin instead of a soldier that got sick of the Alliance is ridiculous. And if it’s over you being a drell, I don’t have time for racist bullshit on my ship. You also earned my trust a lot quicker.”

“So, you said we’re dating,” he says, changing the subject as he steps closer to her, placing his hands on the table beside her legs. “What does that make me to you?”

“I, well, I assumed we were,” Shepard responds hesitantly, her cheeks reddening. “I figured that was what the whole confession thing was.”

Thane chuckles, leaning in closer to her, “I didn’t disagree with you, I just want to know what I am to you.”

“My boyfriend?” she mutters carefully.

“Works for me,” he answers, bumping his hand against her leg. She wordlessly spreads them so he can press himself against the table. Her legs wrap around him as he tilts her head up to his.

“Oh does it?” she asks, her pulse quickening under his fingertips on her neck.

A smirk spreads across his face as her already dilating eyes meet his, and he leans in to feather kisses along her jaw until he reaches her mouth. “Is it still too early to admit how I actually feel?” He asks, his breath ghosting over her lips.

“No,” she whispers, leaning in closer to him.

“I love you Siha,” he whispers back before capturing her lips with his own.

---

My AO3

#thane #thane krios #mass effect #shepard #female shepard #commander shepard #mass effect 2 #me2 #fanfic #fanfiction #thane x shepard #thane krios x shepard #shrios #femshep