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tiaragqueen · 4 years

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Give and Take

✂ Pairing: Yandere! Mafioso! Park Jimin x Singer! Reader

✂ Word Count: 1,8k+

✂ Trigger Warning: Mention of abduction, obsessiveness, possessiveness, implied forced marriage, murder, blood, death

✂ This story is fictional and for amusement only. I don’t believe any of the members would do this in real life. All in all, thank you for reading and I hope you have a good day!

Do not re-upload my writing to another website or use it without my permission.

[Edited]

***

You know you’ve been out of BTS fandom for too long when you accidentally mixed Jimin's surname with Kim. Also, I nearly forgot to write this.

Part 1

If you like my writing, please support me on ko-fi!

“A hundred and five is the number that comes to my head, when I think of all the years I wanna be with you. Wake up every morning with you in my bed, that's precisely what I plan to do.” - Marry Me [Jason Derulo]

Being the girlfriend of a mafia boss was surprisingly… relaxed; or maybe because it was Jimin. When you woke up in a spacious room completed with a queen-size bed, a walk-in closet that kept lavish dresses and clothes in your favorite colors, en suite bathroom, and balcony, Jimin had barged in and immediately leaped on you. You remembered shrieking at the sudden attack of affection and tried to push him off, but he was surprisingly strong for someone so… short.

Suffice to say, he didn’t quite release you for the next ten minutes.

You’d never met a man so clingy, so affectionate except, maybe, a sasaeng. And even so, your guards never let them touch you. One or two times, yes, but their service was pretty good overall. However, they weren’t here to protect you now. You were left at the mercy of a mafioso, the boss one at that.

Now that you thought about it, what happened to your guards? You only remembered snippets of you going to a supermarket to buy snacks when someone abruptly knocked you out. You weren’t sure if your guards saw the culprit, but since the car was basically across the street, you concluded that they must have. After all, it was their job to watch over you.

But you supposed even the most experienced guards were nothing at the hands of mafioso.

You hoped nothing particularly bad had happened to them. Who knows what your kidnapper had done to them when you were unconscious. Wasn’t Mafia a cruel organization? It’d be understandable if the members were trained to act that way. Though, you prayed that they only knocked your guards out as they did to you.

And what about your manager? Oh, God. They must be worried sick about you. Well, maybe not necessarily your well-being.

However, it didn’t seem as if Jimin shared your concern. Not that you were expecting much from him, to begin with.

When you asked him about their conditions, he merely whined and proceeded to bury his face further into the crook of your neck.

“Why are you asking about other men when you already have me here? Am I not enough for you? Why do you even care about those puny men, anyway? They don’t deserve your attention. Not at all.”

You didn’t understand why he said it as though he was your boyfriend already, and that he deserved to be the center of your focus. In fact, you didn’t understand anything at all!

“O-of course I care about them! They’re my guards, after all. You can’t just…” You squirmed in his hold when you felt it tighten around your stomach. “You can’t just dismiss them like they’re nothing! And who the heck are you, anyway?”

His giggle sent an awkward vibration throughout your body. If he sensed your discomfort, then he chose to ignore it. He probably noticed, because he soon giggled again and nipped your neck playfully.

“I’m your number one fan, of course.”

It finally dawned on you that you were dealing with no ordinary fan, but a sasaeng. Out of all people, he just had to be one.

And out of all frantic thoughts that circulated in your head, the worst just had to happen.

“… But,” he continued thoughtfully. “now that you’re here, I guess you could say that I’m your boyfriend!”

You learned pretty early that Jimin was serious about this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing, or maybe it was just him drilling his affection into your distraught brain. Every gift, from big to small, and from cheap to expensive, piled on your floor. Although looking at the ‘cheapest’ present he gave you, it was probably worth a thousand dollars. Your favorite food would be served every day, and any snack you craved would be sent to your – or should you say, your shared – room, regardless of the time.

Compared to your manager who needed to watch over the finance, Jimin didn’t bother to hold himself from spoiling you thoroughly. It came to the point where you had to keep your gaze from wandering to the things that interested you in fear of him buying them with or without your knowledge, usually the former.

Obviously, he wouldn’t do anything without a price. This was a give-and-take world, after all.

Luckily, the price wasn’t that outrageous. Just the things a lover usually did; affection and attention. But, as expected, he forbade you to look and speak to other people for too long. Not even the guards that were stationed outside your room was an exception to his ‘rule’.

And, of course, they’d be more loyal to him than to you. You were just a stranger who was suddenly plucked from your vibrant yet taxing life into his suffocating hug. A weak woman who could do nothing in the face of a muzzle.

“If you talk to other people for longer than ten seconds, I’ll shoot them.” That was what he said to you one day, during one of his impromptu cuddles. Despite the guileless smile he wore, you knew that he wasn’t kidding with his threat.

He’d told you that he’d spoil you to your heart content, and he’d ordered his subordinates to kidnap you. How could you doubt his words?

But you were lonely. The life in Park mansion was generally quiet, and although Jimin liked to invite you to his office, it still wasn’t enough. Not to mention, the guards had forbidden you to accompany him to his meetings because you weren’t ‘official’ yet – not that you necessarily wanted to come in the first place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to know the meaning of ‘official’ – though, you did have an inkling – and quickly backed down. Too quick because Jimin had whined, hand outstretched to grasp even a hem of your clothes.

You were so lonely you decided to bite the bullet and greeted the servant who came to give your food.

“… Hello.”

The servant was startled at first, eyes bulged out of their pockets as if you were threatening his family with a gun instead. Once he discerned your friendly, albeit awkward smile, he relaxed slightly and nodded.

Just a nod. He couldn’t even bring himself to return your greeting. That was how much he feared you, or rather, your affiliation with Jimin.

The hesitant response you received sent a pang of disappointment in your chest. To think that one day, people would fear you instead of admiring you like you were accustomed to seeing. You might not have many fans, but you were happy and grateful for their efforts to watch your concerts. You loved looking at their glittering eyes as they followed you on the stage, their wide beams, and their boisterous cheers.

And now, people couldn’t even glance at you without flinching and recoiling. Granted, it was only the servants. The guards didn’t bother to notice your existence beyond necessary interactions, which was very rare.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” you said softly as though he was a cornered animal. “I’m not Jimin. I… I don’t even know what I’m doing in here, to be honest.”

The unnamed servant frowned, and after a moment of awkward silence, finally muttered. “Young master really loves you.”

You frowned while still smiling wearily. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear at all. The reason why you spoke to him was that you wanted to talk about anything, not him. But you supposed it was inevitable, wasn’t it? After all, you were under his ‘protection’.

“I-I see…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say next. Jimin was still in his meeting, right? Maybe you could prolong this, honestly useless, conversation. “Can you at least tell me what your name is?”

He shifted a little and looked down. Ah, you really made him uncomfortable, didn’t you?

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth. “It’s–”

Drops of blood splattered your face as he abruptly collapsed to the floor, dying with a shocked expression that rivaled yours. The bang managed to deafen your ears and froze your body momentarily. Slowly, you looked up and discerned the short figure on the doorway.

Jimin held his gun in one hand, face stony despite the death he caused and the trauma he inflicted on you.

“I really don’t want to do this because I know that not many people like to see real-life violence. But sometimes they need a lesson, don’t they?” He averted his emotionless gaze to you and smiled coldly. “I told you that I’ll kill anyone who talks to you for more than ten seconds. So why did you do it? Are you doubting me?”

“N-no, I…” You began to clamber away as he slowly advanced towards you, but the empty spot on your wrist forced you to stop. “I just… I just wanted someone to talk to me, is all.”

He squinted. “Why? Am I not enough for you until you had to go to someone else? A man at that?”

“… I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me.” you whimpered, eyes stinging from upcoming tears.

“Oh, I know!” You glanced up to him when you heard him snapping his fingers. “You must be lonely, right?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong but… you really didn’t want to hear his next words. It’d be worse, you were sure of it. There was no way he’d be lenient to you anymore after he caught you talking with a servant. As far as you were concerned, it was considered a ‘betrayal’ to him.

Jimin chuckled and swiftly locked his gun. “You should’ve told me! No need for a drastic measure like that!” he chirped despite the irony of the situation. “After we get married, I’ll definitely bring you to my meetings more!”

Your breath hitched. Get what…?

“What… what do you mean?” That was impossible. There was no way he said what you heard him saying, right? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t just–

“Get married, of course!” he beamed, oblivious to the severity of his words. “My organization only acknowledges the official members, you know? So if you marry me, you’ll become a part of us too. Isn’t that great? That way, I can freely bring you anywhere.”

No, that wasn’t great. It’d never be great. You might not see another violence, hopefully, but you didn’t want to become a part of them. People tended to lump someone with their affiliations, and that meant they’d perceive you as a criminal, too!

You slowly shook your head, the tears started to spill. “Jimin, no… I can’t. I can’t marry you – I don’t want to.”

Jimin blinked owlishly. “What do you mean? Of course, you want to! You’re my girlfriend, after all!” he chirped. “My parents have seen your pictures, and luckily, they want to meet you tomorrow!”

You could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating for a second as the news crashed your head like a brick.

“So I think we should sleep early. It’ll be bad if you start yawning in front of them.” He giggled and plopped down beside you. “Don’t worry, we’ll be eating together from now on. I’ll tighten the security so people can’t come into our room as they please. That way, you won’t be lonely anymore!”

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tokugou · 3 years

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Hi. First: I love your GIFs! They're pleasing to see on my dash (and sometimes gives me niggling ideas for creating GIFs of my own but almost never do it cuz procrastination and my creativity sucks haha 😅)! Please keep creating! <3

Second, genuine question (and out of curiosity): Why do you self reblog your posts often? People can see your posts on their dash, and even on the search thingy. The search thingy doesn't let people see your self-reblogs (just the original post). Even though I've kinda been on and off of Tumblr for years, I don't really get how it works, so I'm a bit confused as to why you and other bloggers self-reblog your/their own posts?

You don't have to answer if you don't want to, though! I'm just genuinely confused and I don't know who/where else to ask/search 😅. Thanks in advance! Have a nice day! <3

I honestly don't know what I did to get dragged into this discourse

Thank you for polite question, I honestly don't know if I can help you a lot and if my answer will explain it as you expect. I also was on and off tumblr for a long time and often, but I can answer it based on my own experience on this becasue it was confusing to me too when I first met with self reblogging.

Long reply under read more so to not trash other people' dash

first of all self promotion isn't a bad thing and i'm staring to think some of people here see it as a crime

compared to old one nowday t/mblr is a mess, lot of people left this site and most of them were content creators (either artists or gifmakers) and back then it seemd more welcoming to editors? People would rb your stuff no matter your popularity becasue hey it is content from my fav series i wanna see more i wanna keep it on my blog and show it to others so there was no need for people to self reblog becasue it circulated around a lot on its own.

new people who join this app are raised on i/stagram t/itter and/or f/book where LIKES means everything, you show your support by liking posts THIS NOT APPLY TO TUMBLR AND NEVER DID [you can check this amazing post about rebloging]. As nice as it is to get likes on your post becasue it is like a pat on a head - it is only a pat, doesn't mean anything on a long run. Reblog = spreading. If people don't spread it we stay unnoticed and we tend to self reblog more.

another thing that changed is: people no longer scroll from top to the last post they saw before going to sleep, cos why would they? You wake up in the morning open app while eating breakfast or drinking coffee and you sroll past ten or twenty post or an equivalent of hour or two of your absence - you dont go deeper cos it would be a waste of time - again, I say USUALLY, some ppl still do this and it is ok either way - which leads us to main point of self/reblog:

DIFFERENCE in TIME ZONE not all of our followers live in the same time-zone, when I post something in my free time it doesn't mean others have it too, most of them are probably sleeping or in working place at that hour. We self reblog so people who were absent (and we think might be interested in - becasue why not? they follow us for a reason right?) can see it when they get back on here. By reblogging ourself multiple times, that puts the post back on the follower’s dash and hopefully gives them a chance to see it.

most of people follow ton of blogs (one of my friend I met here told me they follow over 1k blogs) imagine even half of these blogs posting regulary, a few things per hour, the dash is messy and crowded OUR EDITS TEND TO GET LOST IN IT. Most of people follow a lot of blogs and might miss our posts becaue their dashes are WAY more active than these who follow five or ten blogs.

t/mblr fandoms aren't welcoming to new creators in my experience, to get notes you need to be popular/have lot of followers but you can't have lot of them if your posts aren't spread/seen and so on and so on it go in circle (a lot of ppl also only reblog popular posts and avoid these with litte of notes - don't know why it is like this, maybe they think these posts are suspicious?) so with self reblog we also give some of these fake notes to make a post more appealing, i guess? this one is just speculation.

the search function you mentioned is very rarely used tbh people don't go to search for things daily, they usually only do this when they join new series/ship/etc to check if there is something. People usually stick to what they see on their dashes. AND most importantly this option doesn't work as it should. It is some type of algoritm that promote post that are alive/active - even if your post is relativy new it might not show in search becasue it died quickly (as if it wasn't interacted with for some time). With search option it is 50/50 your thing either show there or not. ALSO REMEMBER search option is a terrible promoted thingy that doesn't show you everything so you better stick to /tagged/ thing you can enter manually while on dash if you are using web t/mblr.

people no longer go straight to specific blogs to check if they missed something, they might do it for their besties (as they call it) but other than that DASH is all people see and focus on, so the more often content creators self/reblog the higher chance followrs will see it.

we are not paid for what we do and it come to everything: edits, gifs, arts, writing, video and META POST we are not paid for it and no matter how many people say notes are just numbers these numbers are our motivational payment, the less you get the less you create because you just don't feel the point of sharing your creations if it is not received well or at all.

when I started posting I used to post new content daily even twice a day, nowdays seeing most of my edits not being well recieved in fandom I lost motivation to the point I was thinking of quiting because it didn’t give me joy anymore and I'm still considering it.

I personally never felt bothered seeing self rebbloged post, I follow a bunch of content creators, some of them sr twice a day some each hour, some more or less often. It often helped me to see something I would missed becasue I wasn't here and personally it often give me joy to see the post I remember seeing that had 2 notes when I rb it and now it is 500 or more.

to anyone who read it and still think self reblog is a bother: do not tell people to stop self reblogging. If you genuinely have a problem with self reblogging, just unfollow or block the person who does it and don’t make a fuss over it!

I hope I managed to answer you at least partly? I probably lost the point somewhere between first sentence and second but... well

#chloe.mailbox #long post #anonymous #i keep saying WE as in content creator but honestly i dont feel as if i was part of it

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peppusae · 3 years

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[kth] lavender honey ch. 8

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

lavender honey: kim taehyung x reader

genre: crack, fluff, college au, smut

word count: 3.6k words

lavender honey

ch 8: in which taehyung makes minji choose voilence, while jungkook makes her strip for him.

“My… my chances are rare, hyung. I might want to hold tight, the person I like, but... I can’t. Not when things are going well for her with the person she likes. I don’t want to be the person that ruins things for the one person I have the hardest time staying away from, you know?”

The person Taehyung likes?

You suddenly think about the time when you had come home and Namjoon was doing some revisions on a song Taehyung had written, about a girl. Back then, you thought he might have had too much strawberry milk and gotten emo enough to write some good shit for his assignment.

But hearing his words, you realize that he was genuine about what he was saying back then, and it makes your heart hurt a bit.

Who did Taehyung like?

Your heart hurts more as you listen to your brother’s sad little ‘oh’ in response.

Clearly, Namjoon isn’t the one you should be going to for advice.

Taehyung, for one, doesn’t seem to care.

“Like, what if Jin-hyung started dating a friend of yours? You would be sad, right, Hyung?”

“Well…. Yes, I would.”

“And if you find out that it’s someone close to you, that’s going to be even sadder, right?”

There is a moment of silence and you start to feel guilty about eavesdropping, so you decide to go downstairs to create some kind of ruckus so the two would know you were home and close the door, at the very least.

Before you’re able to go downstairs, you can hear Namjoon asking the very question bubbling in your head.

“The person you like is dating someone close to you?”

You’re not sure why, but you’re glad you didn’t wait to hear what he had to say.

---

“So. I need to survive another day with you, huh?”

Taehyung greets you the next day, and his words and actions don’t match at all, because he's holding out a cup of iced coffee for you as he takes his seat behind the library counter.

“I’m trying to finish the assignment we have due on Friday.”

“Oh? You still have a whole week for it, though.”

You open up a new tab on Google, trying to find more sites for citing purposes. “If it’s okay with you, I want to go collect the books on Friday after classes. We finish early on Fridays, remember?”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, and it’s probably the gray shirt he has on that makes him look really, really attractively confused.

What in heckles is that even.

How does someone look attractive while they’re confused?

Library duty is kinda scary, it makes you find out more stuff about the male that you need to make points for the essay you’ll be collaborating with Seokjin; about all the other-worldly features of Kim Taehyung.

It’s either the shirt, or Minji is just extra horny today.

You decide that the former is a better option, so you go back to your laptop.

“We can go on Friday. We have to go to Daegu, Gwangju, and Busan too, right? We obviously can’t finish the entire trip in a day, so we have to stay the night-”

“Daegu.”

“Huh?”

“We’ll stay at Daegu. At my house.”

That’s kinda weird of him to say that out of nowhere, but you decide that he might just want the excuse to hang out with his family.

You give him an ok sign, and you find yourself smiling a little when you find him pulling out the same assignment sheet you’re working on, from his backpack, and then starting his own work as well.

A little before the borrowing time ends, students line up to take the books they are interested in, so you and Taehyung get a little busy. When the announcement for the end of the borrowing time is announced (in Taehyung’s ridiculously deep voice), you two decide to stay back at the library to finish your assignment before going home.

In fact, you are actually so immersed in finishing your task, that you don’t notice the time until someone taps your shoulder and you find Namjoon, a smiling Jungkook standing beside him.

“Hi, Noonim!”

Jungkook actually does try hard not to call you that when the others are around, but habits are habits, and you’re glad Namjoon and Taehyung don’t make a big deal out of it anymore.

“We’re all going out to eat, Hoseokie-hyung is giving a treat because it’s his birthday! We gotta eat as much meat as we can!” Jungkook announces happily, looking at you with a big grin. You give him a smile, glancing at Taehyung who has closed the lid of his laptop as soon as the two arrived.

“I think we’ve done a lot of work for one day, right? Let’s go?”

“What do you mean, for one day? I’ve finished my assignment.”

You stare at Taehyung in disbelief.

“The fuck?”

“Oh shit.” Namjoon says, making you glare at him. Only when you see Jungkook’s slightly bewildered face, do you realise you’ve probably cursed for the first time in front of the younger boy, and it makes your face heat up while you turn back to face Taehyung.

“How did you finish it so fast? And why are you staying here if you’re already done?”

“I’m an amazing guy, [Name]-ah. You need to give me a fuckton more of credit.” He has to say, cooly picking up his belongings and throwing them all into one big salad bowl (aka his hugeass backpack). “You weren’t done, so I was waiting for you.”

What?

While Namjoon and Jungkook head outside and Taehyung follows you after you pack your belongings, you ask him how long it has been since he’s finished his work.

“I think, 2 hours, maybe?”

“Why the fuck,” you hiss, “Did you not go home?!”

Taehyung looks a bit annoyed right about now, and you want to yell because how dare he have the audacity to look annoyed?!!!

“Like I said, I was waiting for you!” He yells, this time making Namjoon and Jungkook who are walking ahead of you also, to turn around to look at Taehyung. When he sees the two looking at him, Taehyung takes a deep breath and glances at you.

“Leave me alone and go with your little boyfriend.”

Then, he storms off, and Jungkook looks as blank as you feel like, and you don’t know how long you’d have stayed, watching Taehyung walk through the length of the hallway and disappear if Namjoon did not snap you out of your trance and asked you to hurry up.

Who pulled Kim Taehyung’s panties into a wad today?

---

Taehyung colors his hair black for the next day.

It’s so out of the blue, and the incessant way everyone makes a big deal out of it seems a bit understandable.

It really isn’t fair, how good the guy looks.

Yoongi hasn’t even finished that song he says he’s writing about a really stupidly attractive man, yet, and it isn’t fair because you really could use a listen to that song right about now.

Even while Jungkook - a really hot kid - sits right beside you, you can’t help but just stare in awe because honestly, there is nothing - human or extra-terrestrial creature included - that could beat the beauty and attractiveness that is Kim Taehyung.

Minji is shaking her head because a) How dare you say two words like ‘hot kid’ that should never be even put together in the first place, b) Because Jungkook and you are dating, right? Or is it pre-dating? Does that exist? Wait a second-

“Noonim, I’m going with Jimin-hyung and Taetae-hyung to the arcade after classes are over,” he says, “Can we go on that date I mentioned tomorrow, instead?”

“What date?” Seokjin butts in out of nowhere, in the middle of taking a bite out of his grapefruit tart. “Is this why you asked me to stay out of the house until late at night tomorrow?!”

Seokjin, obviously, is a meathead, and a really dumb one, at that.

Multiple things happen at once.

The first one is Jungkook standing up from his seat so fast that he almost spills the bean sprout broth bowl on his tray.

The second one is all eyes turning to Seokjin, which in turn, makes the elder male’s ears turn bright red and him starting to mumble nonsense to himself like a lunatic.

The third one is Jungkook getting off from the bench and dragging Seokjin away from the lunch table, all while Hoseok, Hani, and Hyojin seem to be enjoying the entire ruckus.

Only when you glance at Namjoon do you remember that Jungkook had mentioned he has a roommate… and that roommate was Seokjin, himself.

“You’ve started doing what with Jungkookie now?”

“Shut up! He just asked me to go see his animations and paintings, what are you talking about, Namjoonie?!” You protest, eyes turning to Taehyung, who runs a hand through his hair, takes a final sip of his cola, and then heads out of the cafeteria - a pastel pink-haired Jimin running after him.

Namjoon blinks, and then continues to eat his food, much like Yoongi who sees and hears nothing because of the radio show he’s busily listening to while he gobbles up his lunch.

If only everyone was like Min Yoongi.

It’s ten minutes later when both Seokjin and Jungkook return, the younger one apologizing to you like crazy, even when Jimin comes back a while later, saying Taehyung had some assignment to complete beforehand.

“I don’t know about you guys, but didn’t I bet these two will get it on within a month?”

Apparently, Seokjin doesn’t know when to shut up, and you’re very glad Namjoon has already left by then and that Hoseok does the honor of punching the elder male in the back for spewing nonsense - which he claims is the truth.

This is going to be a long day.

---

You’re driving to college the next day with Namjoon only, for the first time in what feels like ages.

You’d been dreading questions about Jungkook that he might have, but it isn’t about the date you’ll be going on after classes today that worries Namjoon, but something else, entirely.

“My precious sister. We did promise that we would share our secrets with each other, did we not?”

“We did, my precious brother.” You play along, watching the little koala keychain hanging from the mirror inside the car.

“I am not going to question you about why or what you’re going to do with Jungkookie, that’s none of my business,” he starts. You shake your head, mouthing ‘It is, Namjoonie’, which makes your brother smile a little.

“Thank you. I’m not going to question it, because I know my sister well and I trust my little sister. What I’m only going to question is one thing. Are you sure of the choices you’ve made, till now?”

“What do you mean, Joonie?”

You watch as he scratches his head a little, not saying anything for a while as he steers along a few curves and stops at a red light.

“I’ve noticed that your thoughts have been wandering a lot recently.” He points out.

“I don’t get what you mean.”

“What I mean is, your mind seems like it’s always somewhere else, and that has not been the case when you first started going out with Jungkook.”

Has Namjoon been watching over you enough to notice that your mind always wanders all around the place, eventually landing on some stupid thought of Taehyung, in the end?

“It seems to me like you’re not really in love with Jungkookie, but someone else.”

You could swear you felt chills run down your spine because of the absolute bingo he had managed to make; Namjoon had a high IQ for a reason, that you realize then.

You manage to chuckle, shaking your head and waving it off. “That’s ridiculous, Joon-ah, I had a crush on Jungkook ever since we got introduced to each other by Jiminie.”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, as if he doesn’t believe you - but this was the truth, even if your fraying thoughts only began much much later after that.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve arrived at the parking lot at college, that Namjoon decides to drop the subject, giving you a nod in response.

“Well. It turns out Kookie also liked you since back then. You’re my sister and I just want you to be happy, with whoever.”

It moves you, hearing that. You know that it must have been hard on Namjoon who not only finds out things easily, but over analyzes things he finds as well. It makes you smile, going around to Namjoon’s side of the car when he gets out after parking, and then giving him a big hug, right in the middle of the parking lot.

“Yah, Kim [Name]-ah, what are you doing?!”

“You don’t have to worry about Jinnie wondering if there’s something between us, he knows we’re siblings now!” You say, giving him a wave and running inside the campus before he can say anything else.

---

“And that’s the project I’m working on right now, Noonim!”

You can’t help but to give a big grin to the boy who looks very pleased with your positive reaction after he showed his animation work. Jungkook really wasn’t called the Golden Maknae for no reason, his animations were realistic and flawless, at least from your - a complete amateur’s - point of view. After you say this, Jungkook laughs, thanking you and saying that that is a very lovely compliment to receive considering most of the people who would consume whatever he produces would also be amateurs too, in the end.

His literal statement makes you laugh, and you enjoy the time with the male, your mind definitely not wandering as much as it did on your previous date. You’re glad it doesn’t, and you enjoy eating chocolate pudding and having the banana milk Jungkook prepared for you, while you go through all the lovely paintings and digital art the male had created.

“By the way, Noonim, can you take a seat over there?” He asks, pointing at the center of his bed. Minji has started to strip out of nowhere, and when you glance at Jungkook with wide eyes, you’re very surprised to see that he has taken a digital camera.

So he wants to take a picture of me sitting on the bed, not to start-

Okay, Minji, you need to get a toy or something because you’re being way too horny and there’s no other way we can calm you down.

You find yourself awkwardly waddling and taking a seat at the center of Jungkook’s bed - and gosh does it smell like a very boyish citrus over here - allowing the male to take a few pictures of you which he wanted.

“Okay, I got them. I can’t wait to start drawing you!!” He says, much like a little kid, and it makes your heart swell, holding your hand out towards him and watching him raise a surprised eyebrow, doe eyes wide while he slowly walks up to you. You can tell he is nervous by the way his ears have become a little red, and the fact that he had dimmed the lights and turned on a warm light for your picture does not help.

“Y-Yes?”

You give a smile, watching him place his camera on the side table carefully before he walks back, slowly intertwining your fingers. His nervousness shows in the way he looks down at your hands every three seconds, unable to keep eye contact for long. It’s so adorable that your heart becomes warm, mumbling a little ‘Jungoo?’ barely enough for him to hear.

“Yes, N-Noona?”

“Why did you ask Seokjinnie to not come for a while?”

Now, Jungkook refuses to look you in the eyes even for a second, his cheeks turning beet red.

“Jungoo?”

“I… I never get to hold your hand like this unless we’re on a date…”

You can’t help but to smile up at him, tugging at his hand so that he bends down a little, coming to face-level with you. Even before you put a hand on his face, you could tell that his cheeks were burning, and it makes your heart race because you simply can’t get over how adorable he is.

Jungkook closes his eyes and you kiss him on the nose, gently, and that makes him open his eyes a little startled.

When you end up bursting into a smile, despite the serious look on Jungkook’s face, it seems to make the boy less nervous, chuckling a little before he sits down beside you on the bed.

“What did you expect, Jungoo?”

“You enjoy teasing me a lot, don’t you, Noonim?”

“That’s what you get for calling me Noona.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “I shall not make that kind of mistake again.”

You find yourself smiling, and your heart has stopped racing, now feeling more comfortable around Jungkook. Even when he smiles and leans in to kiss you, you close your eyes, kissing him back, so, so comfortable that you don’t even notice until Jungkook leans away, that one of your legs have gone over his thigh and he is looking at you with wide eyes.

Holy shit . You’d always know Jungkook was a muscle-y kid because his jeans always fit him in all the right places, but it’s a different thing when you can actually physically feel that under your own thigh-

“You did lock the door, right?”

Jungkook looks baffled at your question, his jaw dropping open, but he still nods in response.

“No one else will come, right?”

The male closes his mouth, still very startled but nods again.

“Then we could do this a bit more, right?” You ask, and his response is faster this time, nodding once again, a hand going behind your neck and pulling your face to his. You can feel his tongue on your lips, and you part and let him in, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable sitting with one leg over his. It felt like Jungkook felt the same way - and this is where you learn about the mighty strength he has - when he wraps an arm around your waist, completely pulling you onto his lap.

Not only has Minji finished stripping by now, but she has also put on her finest lingerie now.

You’re actually very, VERY startled by this action, so much that you break away from the kiss, looking at Jungkook with wide eyes.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, you look away from his eyes, a down at his neck. There is a sheen of sweat forming on his neck, and his white shirt has stuck to his skin a little by now.

Oh God save me.

“Noonim…”

“Mmm?”

“Should I let you go?”

The way he says that, the way he words it, sounds so, so sad and you wonder how you can tell him that you were simply embarrassed, nothing else.

And you can’t think of anything to say, so you close your eyes, grabbing his face and kissing him on the lips, heart racing at how brave you were feeling out of nowhere. Was it because this was Jungkook’s room, because you knew no one else would be around?

Or is it because it was Jungkook, both his hands hugging your back, pulling your body so close to his that it’s almost too embarrassing to bear, kissing you like this might be his last chance to do so?

Whatever it is, you find yourself opening your eyes, slowly pushing him back and watching the way his eyes go wide when he falls back down on his bed, pulling you along with him.

For a minute, neither of you do anything, and it looks like Jungkook took a minute to get over his initial surprise, because he wraps his arms - which are already around you - much tightly, rolling over so that he’s the one looking down at you while you look up at him.

And this is so much more embarrassing, because now you don’t even have anywhere else to look, because Jungkook is just so, so, so damn close, and you find yourself closing your eyes, not knowing what else to do.

“Noonim.”

“Mmhmm?”

“Look at me for a bit.” Jungkook whispers softly, and you open your eyes, to see his face a little further away, eyes closed while he takes in deep breaths.

“Noonim. I like you so, so much.”

#lavender honey #bts #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung college au #bts college au #bts fanfic #language major vs music major

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 4 years

Note

can I pls have some hcs of the Papas/Copia what they'd be like parenting a son?

You got it, fam!

Also just a quick note that in my writings Copia is not related to the Emeritus. :) So it will show in how he interacts with Nihil and vice versa!

Papas/Copia Parenting a Son

Papa Nihil:

~Well, it would definitely be vastly different from how he raised his current three if he had a fourth! Unfortunately, with his current brood he wasn’t the best father. Not by any means the absolute worst... just not the best at all.

~Nihil was a very inattentive parent who let the rest of the clergy raise his heirs. He was always sure that his sons didn’t need him the way normal children would. They had a lot more to learn than the average child, and would constantly need teaching only the ministry can provide. Not cuddles, or fishing trips, or bed time stories- or whatever it is that real dads do!

~Not to mention, during that time Nihil was off chasing pleasure as a Papa deserves. But it’s not like the boys didn’t have nannies, mentors, and ghouls to watch them! Nihil was content to occasionally visit his sons in their childhood with some gifts and asking about their growth. It’s all they needed right?

~When he sons were older and graduated seminary, that’s when he was usually more involved. “Mentoring” them in the ways of Papacy. His eldest didn’t need as much attention, as he was a natural progeny of the clergy... but his other two needed his guidence- even if they didn’t want it!

~With a fourth heir? He might be old, but he is attentive and present always! This is a new chance to succeed where his others have failed. Not to mention, a way to put the Cardinal in his place! Nihil will be the most annoying father and mentor the child has ever seen. Drilling into them how to be the best papa, son of Lucifer, and force the Clergy has ever seen!

Papa I:

~Takes to Fatherhood like a duck to water! Very few people know that Papa pretty much raised his two younger brothers from a young age. Being about ten years their senior, Papa stepped up when his own father was rarely present. So he already knows a thing or two about raising sons. Plus, Papa knows an heir of his own is an unblessing from Lucifer, and it’s not one he would ever take for granted.

~Papa is not one to be especially emotionally, but he is very caring to his son. Papa knows the importance of being emotionally available to your child, and will do his best to offer his support and love. It’s very odd to many to see the old, scary Papa help calm his crying son down during a bad day.

~Tries his best not to put crippling pressure on his son, but does have many expectations about how his son is taught as he gets older. To be a Papa, one must apply themselves above everyone else. You should always be expected to know as much of Lucifer’s teachings as possible. A Papa needs to be well educated,well rounded, articulate, passionate, and above all- versed in everything that is unholy.

~Despite being one of the most qualified to teach his son personally, Papa goes out of his way to make sure he’s not the only one around for his child. It takes a village to raise a child, isn’t that how the saying goes? Papa wants his son to meet others and learn from every willing teacher he can! That and, should his son be more sociable, make as many friends as possible.

~Determined to raise a great Papa and make Lucifer proud. But also raise a son that will feel loved and, in turn, spread that love to others through Lucifer’s light.

Papa II:

~Actually not that cold hearted bastard everyone thought he would be if he had a son. Because of his mix of wild, night escapades and bitterness many thought Papa would just be like his father. Indifferent, cold, and absolutely uncaring as to what happened to his spawn. But it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

~If it’s one thing Papa prides himself on it’s not being as idiotic as a man as he regards Nihil to be sometimes. True, he wouldn’t be the emotional or cuddly father type like Papa III or Copia. But he would care and he’d make effort to be in his son’s life. Even if the child was born from a prime mover he had no emotional connection with.

~Deep down he has always resented his father for treating him like a burden to be shipped away and then molded to the ministry’s liking. So he would never put his child through that, especially with them being a son and heir to the Emeritus bloodline. Of course he’d want the best education and teaching and luxury... but nothing like treating his own child as a pawn or puzzle piece.

~Very firm, has high expectations, but very fair to his son. Papa will raise his child to be strong, level headed, and dedicated to their Unholy Lord.All he wants is for his heir to not fall into the same despair he has thanks to the Clergy and it’s manipulative ways.

~To many, even his own son, he will sometimes come off as emotionless and uncaring... but truthfully, he’s always been that way. He’s just prickly. But he cares about his son and their well being. Papa will still praise them in his very subtle and almost cold way, and give them proper recognition when they earn it. But he’s also quick to correct them and help them improve. Seems like he’s too harsh in getting his child to succeed but it’s because he wants them to be their best and not settle for anything less.

Papa III:

~It actually depends on who is the one who mothers his child. Papa is not a cruel man, but he is very cautious on where his emotional investments will go. So if his son is born of someone he isn’t involved with, like a fling or a prime mover forced upon him by the clergy, he is more indifferent.

~That isn’t to say Papa would completely ignore his child. He wouldn’t want to be like his father (entirely). But a heir born to continue his bloodline is a ministry pushed endeavor, and he feels like he was just the breeding stud to get the next Emeritus. Honestly, he would be more afraid of being shut out of the child’s life if he interfered too much with the will of the Clergy.

~If this was a son born out of love or a prime mover he cares about, Papa is way more involved. Almost to an alarming degree by High Clergy standards. Granted, he’s not sure even how to be a father and it scares the all mighty Hell out of him! But he tries his best! He wants to be a better father than Nihil ever was.

~Makes it a point to be personally involved in raising his son, like a normal parent would be. He can’t always be there daily thanks to Papal duties, but damn it if he isn’t going to try! Papa knows how important it is to be active in his son’s life if he wants them to grow up feeling secure, loved, and emotionally stable. Truthfully, he always worries his child will grow up feeling abandoned or unloved like he did. As much as he loves himself, Papa doesn’t want a mini version of his emotional baggage walking around.

~Many were taken aback when Papa is so proud and boastful about his son! He likes to show his child off and talk about what a proud father he is. Will go on for hours about how he has the next great Papa under his wing, and how amazing his son is. Actually keeps pictures and documents all the big milestones. You can even find him playing or reading to the little one. Tries to be every bit of a “normal” dad as he can in this Clergy lifestyle.

Papa IV/Cardinal Copia:

~An almost comical mixture of excited new father and hovering mentor figure. On one hand he was an Orphan of a child, and wants his son to be raised with the love and guidance Copia never received as a boy. On the other, he wants his son to be thick skinned and ready for all the challenges of being the first heir to a new bloodline!

~When his child is smaller he doesn’t want them to be too overwhelmed with being raised as the next future Papa. He wants them to have a good childhood with many happy memories and not too much pressure. At the same time, when his son is older he will press harder for him to study and to take his legacy seriously. Copia often worries he’s either pushing too hard or not hard enough for his son to achieve papacy!

~Personally wants to mentor his son as much as he can. Copia had to learn a LOT and fought very hard to become the next Father of a bloodline. So Copia always had to know more than everyone, be smarter than everyone, work harder than everyone, AND be more alert than everyone. All traits and values he pushes onto his child.

~Copia does have such a soft spot for his son, as he just wants his son to be happy in the end. So he may or may not let the boy get away with some things, depending on what it is! Copia is weird in that way where he would gladly sneak his son extra dessert when his child knows he can’t have anymore... yet he would turn around and scold his son for not finishing his homework in a timely manner.

~Despite his power and knowledge, Copia can still be the embarrassing dad. Making crappy dad jokes that embarrass his son. Accidentally ‘ruining’ dates, not even realizing his teenager was in the middle of flirting. Or Hell, even showing off the various giant portraits he had painted of his heir. All in the life of a #1 Satanic Dad!

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost headcanons #papa nihil #papa emeritus i #Papa Emeritus II #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iv #cardinal copia

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allsassnoclass · 3 years

Text

my only weakness (you know all my secrets)

I have had the great fortune to participate in @ashesonthefloor‘s Halloween fic event this year! Honestly it was a blast and I’m super excited to see everyone else’s creations!

Event Masterlist

For this event, we all were assigned a pairing, then got to choose from a list of prompts. My prompt was as follows: “You’ve told me three separate times now you have a vampire kink and I’m starting to wonder if you know I’m a vampire.” Or, pretty explanatory. One person is a vampire. The other has a vampire “kink”. (Can also be them saying they like the aesthetic, or trying to hint that they know and don’t mind. Literally do what you want with it) I strayed a little bit, but the prompt idea is still there! Hope you enjoy!

Michael is having a hard time figuring out if the amount of vampire jokes and references is due to Ashton knowing his deepest, darkest secret, or if that's just his sense of humor.

Read on ao3

The first time it happens, they’re heading to their first date.

Michael hasn’t really dated anyone since the 90s, because dating is complicated. He doesn’t age. He can’t eat regular food. Going out in the sun is dicy at best and results in extremely painful sunburn at worst. He shows up in most mirrors now, because they rarely have silver backing anymore, but pictures are a no-go because his eyes cause a lens flare.

The last person he went on an actual date with was Calum, because they’ve been friends for centuries and figured they might as well give it a go. Michael wishes they could have worked, but it took some making out before they both agreed that, as much as they love each other, it’s all platonic. The date itself was fun, but there were no romantic butterflies to be found. Michael has seen Calum naked many times before, and while he can appreciate a handsome man, when it’s Calum it does nothing for him.

Ashton is very handsome. He’s also funny, and passionate, and he’s got more than enough snark to speak Michael’s language. He’s got tenacity and determination, and for some reason part of that determination got directed towards getting Michael on a date with him.

He didn’t have to work very hard. Michael said yes at the first opportunity.

For the first date, Ashton asked if he could pick him up, so Michael waits nervously in his living room, listening to his grandfather clock ticking. (He’s had it since 1733. It was made specifically for him by the clockmaker, a parting gift because if Michael stayed in the area for too much longer, his lack of ageing would get suspicious.)

(This is such a bad idea. Even if this date goes well, Michael can’t be in a relationship with a human for very long before his secret will slip.)

His phone vibrates with a message, and he nearly jumps out of his skin before he realizes that it’s just Calum, not Ashton about to cancel or spring a sudden change of plans.

Cal: have fun on your date ;) wow him with your Biting sense of humor

Michael: i hate you the puns got old centuries ago

Cal: you love them

Michael’s doorbell rings, startling him enough that he fumbles his phone and effectively cutting off any sort of argument he may have started to get into. Michael stands from the couch, takes a deep breath, and answers the door.

Ashton looks really fucking good. Michael has only really seen him in their work clothes, when Ashton is writing up articles about the local music scene and Michael is busy approving things to put on the website, but he dresses up very nicely. His hair is artfully tousled in a way Michael knows must take a little bit of time, and Michael thinks there might be just a hint of glitter under his eyes that would make his heart palpitate if it still did stuff like that. His shirt is short sleeved, showing off his arms nicely, and there are roses printed against the white fabric that match the ones in the bouquet in his hands.

Michael doesn’t know the last time someone gave him flowers.

“Hi,” Ashton says. “You look amazing.”

Michael feels like he’s underdressed now. He’s got on a black long sleeve, because the sun hasn’t fully set yet and he’s trying to cover as much skin as possible, and a pair of black jeans. It’s a nicer shirt of his, something name brand that he can afford due to decades of saving here and there, but he’s well aware that his overall style leans more casual than dressy.

“Thanks,” he says. “You look absolutely fantastic.”

Ashton glances down and smiles, pleased. Michael likes that he can make him react like that.

“I got you flowers,” Ashton says. “I hope you aren’t allergic. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but I’d feel silly.”

“I’m not,” Michael smiles, taking them from him. There are a few sprigs of lily of the valley tucked in amongst the roses and ferns, and he takes a deep inhale. He loves the sweet scent of roses and how lively fresh flowers can appear to be even when they’re dying. Maybe it’s self-centered, but he likes to think there are some similarities between him and the plants. They’re not alive anymore, but they’re still going, and they can still bring people a little bit of joy for a few impermanent moments before moving on.

“I’ll put these in some water. You can step in for a second, if you want.”

He had excessively cleaned the entry and living room earlier in the evening, paranoid in case something like this forced Ashton inside. At least now he’s certain that there’s nothing incriminating lying about.

“Nice place,” Ashton says.

“Thanks,” Michael replies, already booking it for the kitchen to grab a vase. Once he gets there he takes a moment to try to stop the slight shake to his hands and compose himself.

You are an ancient, immortal being who has lived through the fall of empires, he scolds himself. You can handle one date with a cute boy who brought you flowers.

Ashton beams when Michael says he’s ready to go.

“I was thinking we could walk, if that’s okay,” he says while Michael locks the door behind them. “It’s not far.”

“Are you going to tell me where we’re actually going, yet?” Michael asks. Ashton mimes zipping his lips. The only information he gave Michael was that it’s going to be a pretty casual setting (and yet he showed up to Michael’s door looking like that) and that Michael won’t have to eat. That’s something he specifically requested, making up a bunch of excuses about being gluten free and severely lactose intolerant and giving a list of other allergens a mile long.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” Ashton laughs when he pouts. “Come on.”

He grabs Michael’s hand to start leading him down the street, and Michael absolutely will not admit to himself how nice it feels, warm and alive against his.

They go through some basic small talk on the way there, touching on current work projects since they’re in different departments and learning a bit more about each other’s families. Michael makes an excuse about his being in Australia and tells Ashton about Calum instead, and Ashton fills time by describing his mom and siblings. It’s cute to see the way he lights up, seeming radiant in the light of the setting sun that Michael has to squint harshly against.

“Wow, you really don’t like the sun,” Ashton says eventually.

“What? Oh, not really, I guess.”

“I should’ve known, but I wasn’t sure if all of you are fully nocturnal or not.”

“What?” Michael asks, alarm bells ringing. “Why would you--what makes you say that?”

Ashton shrugs nonchalantly.

“You know. You’re just so pale and pasty,” he says, obvious tease in his voice. “Definitely closer to a creature of the night than an early bird, I’d guess.”

He’s joking. Ashton has not, somehow, discovered his secret ten minutes into their first date.

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs. “Not all of us can have perfect natural tans. I burn really easily.”

“Do you glow in the dark, too? Turn fluorescent under blacklights?”

“Shut up,” Michael says, but he leans a little into Ashton as he says it to let him know that the banter isn’t unwelcome.

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Michael doesn’t have a chance to ask what he means before Ashton is pulling him towards the doors of a large building. He holds it open for him like a gentleman, and Michael misses the contact of their hands but appreciates having all of his senses free to process the new environment, which is full of a plethora of new sights, sounds, and smells.

“Roller skating?” Michael asks, looking around the large arena. It’s dim, but his eyes adjust immediately to take in the wondrously tacky carpet outside the rink, highlighted in brief bursts by rotating colorful lights. Loud music plays over the speakers, and in the arena people in small groups or pairs are making their way around the track. He can smell fried food and various types of beverages coming from a bar in the corner, mingling with the scent of unfamiliar people. He takes it all in for a moment, then dials back his senses to make it more bearable.

“It’ll be fun,” Ashton says. “Willing to give it a go?”

“Definitely.”

They go get their skates, and Ashton pays for the shoe rental and the entrance fee. Michael hasn’t been roller skating in probably around a decade, and he’s excited Ashton picked this as their date location. So many date ideas these days have to do with food, the only thing Michael absolutely can’t participate in, but Ashton found something that will hopefully be fun while still allowing them to talk and get to know each other better.

“Ready?” Ashton asks. Michael nods, and then they step out into the rink.

Ashton, it turns out, is worse at roller skating than Michael is. That makes sense, because Michael did it a lot in the 70s and 90s and has gone a few times since to keep it fresh, and Ashton isn’t awful, but there are a few instances where he wobbles and his hand immediately reaches out to grab at Michael’s arm before he rebalances and apologizes. Michael laughs at him good naturedly and does a few circles around him until Ashton huffs and Michael slips an arm through his.

“Come on,” Michael says. “Once you’re used to this in about fifteen minutes, I’ll race you around the track.”

Michael wins the first race, but Ashton wins the second, although Michael is giggling too much for it to count, in his opinion. They spend a lot of time making laps and talking, and Michael skates backwards to show off at every opportunity while Ashton dances to the songs that come on over the speakers to make him laugh. It’s one of the best nights Michael has had in a long time, and by the time they leave they’re both walking slowly, stretching their time together as much as possible.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Ashton says when they finally reach Michael’s door. His front light makes the glitter under Ashton’s eyes sparkle, and Michael technically doesn’t have to breathe, but his breath still catches.

“Me too,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So...do you want to do this again?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot. I’ll take you out, next time.”

“Okay,” Ashton smiles, ducking his head. Michael catches a faint blush on his cheeks, blood rushing up to color them, and he loves that he sees Ashton like this. At work, he’s always cool and level-headed, confident in what he says and strong in his opinions. Michael has managed to turn him bashful, and that is possibly the best thing to come out of the date.

“I should let you get on with your night,” Ashton says eventually. Michael tries to find some sort of excuse to get him to stay, but then Ashton leans forward and presses his lips to Michael’s cheek, soft and lingering. When he takes a step back, Michael wants to pull him in again to memorize the scent of his skin and feel of his warmth.

“Good night,” Ashton says.

“Night,” Michael makes himself reply. Ashton smiles again, then sets off down the street. Michael watches him, smiling when he glances back and waves again, and continues to stand on his front stoop until Ashton is fully out of sight, even for him.

His phone buzzes as soon as he steps inside, and Michael pulls it out in case it’s something important or work related (or Ashton).

Cal: how was the date? or are you two still going…?

Michael: really fucking good

On the third date, Michael gets to see the inside of Ashton’s apartment.

Michael took them stargazing for their second date. There was a meteor shower he wanted to try to watch, anyway, and he found a good spot outside the city where it would be mostly visible. Ashton likes being outdoors, and Michael doesn’t mind it at night, so he drove them out of the city, made the trek up a hill, and laid out a blanket for them to cuddle up in. All in all, it was a great night. Even the car ride to and from the location was amazing, because Michael told Ashton to make a playlist for it and they spent the entire time discussing favorite songs. Ashton is such a snob about it sometimes, since he’s a music journalist and is always evaluating in his head, but there were a few surprises that he put on there simply because “good music doesn’t always have to be good music, Michael.”

Ashton kissed him on the cheek again when Michael walked him to his door. Michael thinks that something so simple shouldn’t occupy so much space in his thoughts, but he’s been replaying it in his head over and over. It’s a little distracting at work, especially when he gets one of Ashton’s articles to upload to the website.

They head to Ashton’s right after they both clock out. Ashton doesn’t live far and typically walks (he really likes walking places, Michael has noticed), but Michael drives them so he’ll have his car handy at the end of the night. It’s a relatively nice building, and Ashton holds the lobby door open for him, which counts enough as an invite to allow him to enter. They take the elevator up to the fifth floor, then Ashton unlocks his door and steps in.

From what Michael can see, it’s a nice apartment. The entry, kitchen, and living room flow easily together, and there’s a hallway off to the side that Michael assumes leads to the bathroom and bedrooms.

He can’t step over the threshold. He hasn’t been invited in this time, not explicitly enough for him to freely enter despite knowing that Ashton wants him there.

“My roommate is out for the night. I swear I cleaned before I left for work today,” Ashton says, puttering around the living room and picking up what looks like a stray sock, righting the pillows on the couch and straightening some books on the coffee table. Michael leans against the doorframe and watches him. Fluffing the pillows doesn’t really matter to Michael, but if it makes Ashton feel better it’s no hardship on him.

Ashton finishes, then glances around until he spots Michael still in the hall.

“Oh. I didn’t really invite you in, did I.”

“It would’ve been the polite thing to do,” Michael teases. “I’d hate to intrude, you know.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Ashton says, coming forward and taking both of Michael’s hands in his. “Michael Clifford, I formally invite you into my home. You are welcome here whenever you’d like.”

“A simple ‘hey, come in,’ would’ve been sufficient, but thanks,” he laughs, stepping forward.

“Absolutely not,” Ashton says. “If you’re going to be vampiric about entering my home, I’m going to treat you with the proper respect, Count Clifford.”

Apparently the vampire jokes are going to be a thing. Michael can work with that, instead of panicking over it. If he turns it into a bit, maybe Ashton will brush things off longer.

“Thank you, mortal. Now, I vant to suck your blood,” he says, exaggerating the awful stereotypical (absolutely false and insulting) accent. It gets a laugh from Ashton, though, which is what he wanted.

“If you manage to beat me at chess, I’ll let you,” Ashton says.

Michael hasn’t let himself think about Ashton’s blood. He can control himself very easily around humans, and bloodlust isn’t really a thing with him unless he hasn’t eaten in over a week. He has a specific concoction that he picks up from the magic shop like clockwork, a mixture of animal blood, some herbs, a few drops of human blood (humanely donated), and whatever the fuck is the flavor for that batch, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely forgotten how amazing it tastes to drink pure, living blood. It’s incredibly intimate, and Michael hasn’t been that close with a human in a very, very long time.

“Okay,” he chokes, once the silence has stretched on too long. Ashton quirks an eyebrow at him, but moves to get the board games without comment.

Michael loves board games. He loves all games, really, and he mostly deals with video games now to keep as up to date as possible (and because he doesn't have to invite friends over to play most of them). What’s nice about games, though, is that they can change every time. Michael has been playing chess since it was invented, but he’s never played against Ashton, and it’s going to be an entirely new experience.

Unfortunately, Ashton is extremely good at chess.

“What the fuck,” Michael says, king toppling after a five-move checkmate.

“Darn,” Ashton replies, faux innocent. “I guess there’ll be no bloodsucking tonight.”

“Wait, I want a rematch. I’m good at chess, I swear.”

Ashton wins twice more before they move on to another game. They cycle through a few before landing on a card game from Ashton’s family, one that Michael hasn’t heard of or played before. It has a lot of complicated rules, and Ashton walks him through it slowly. If Michael feints misunderstanding more than necessary just to have Ashton’s focus on him, leaning close to look at his cards and explain the best moves, then that’s his business.

Michael doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Ashton’s stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear.

“How is it already nine o’clock?” he asks. “Shit, you haven’t eaten yet. You could’ve had something.”

Ashton just shakes his head.

“I’m not going to eat in front of you if I don’t have anything to feed you, too,” he says. Michael wishes it were possible for him to digest human food, because while Ashton does have a nice amount of blood he could tap into with permission, somehow Michael doesn’t think that’s on the table

“I have a weird meal schedule, anyway,” he says. “I eat a really big lunch, then only something small late at night. I really don’t mind.”

“I’ll remember that for future reference,” Ashton says. “Although someday I hope you let me feed you.”

It is such a good thing that breathing is an option for Michael, rather than a requirement. Ashton may not have any clue how what he’s saying sounds, but that doesn’t mean Michael isn’t affected.

“We’ll see,” he says, although there’s no chance that’ll ever happen. “I should probably head home, anyway.”

Ashton checks the time.

“You can stay longer if you want. My roommate will be back soon, but he wouldn’t mind.”

Michael wants to stay, but he’s not sure he’d ever leave if he did.

“I think I’ll go. I’m not sure we’re at the “meeting the roommates” stage yet.”

Michael stands, and Ashton follows to walk him out.

“I had a good time. Again,” Ashton says as they walk down the stairs.

“Me too, even if I think you were somehow cheating at chess.”

“Hey,” Ashton complains, then pauses. “I was going to say that jealousy isn’t a good look on you, but everything is a good look on you.”

“Shut up,” Michael says. “That’s not true at all. I have made some bad fashion choices in the past.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Ashton says. Michael wishes he could show him the pictures from the 80s, as embarrassing as they are. They reach the bottom landing entirely too soon, but Ashton walks him out to the parking deck until they’re standing next to his car.

“So,” Ashton says, squaring his shoulders. “We’ve been on three dates so far, and I really like you, Michael. Hanging out with you has been some of the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I was wondering if you wanted to officially be my boyfriend.”

Fuck. The smart thing would be to cut this off now, before either of them get too attached, because Michael already thinks it would absolutely shatter his non-existent heart if Ashton found out and thought he was a monster.

“Absolutely,” he says instead, because he’s an idiot who wants what he can’t have. “These past few dates have been the most fun I’ve had in a long time, too.”

Ashton beams, like the sun breaking through clouds. He has dimples, and Michael really wants to press his fingers into the divots. He just wants to touch Ashton everywhere, really, to feel the soft skin and know that there’s blood bringing heat to it from his heart to every corner and crevice.

There’s something so absolutely tantalizing about how alive Ashton is. Michael knows that he can’t be more like him, not even if he was actually alive still, but he’s content to have him near. He’d be content to watch from a distance, honestly, but if Ashton wants him close then Michael is going to stay close.

He should not be this whipped after only the third date.

“Well,” he says once they’ve spent too much time grinning at each other silently.

“I should let you go,” Ashton says. “I’ll text you.”

“I’d like that,” Michael says. He goes to open his car door, but Ashton’s hand on his wrist stops him. He leans forward and to kiss Michael on the cheek, just like the past two dates, but this time it lands a bit lower and closer to the middle. The corner of his mouth hits Michael’s and lingers there for just a second longer than he can bear.

“For fucks sake,” he breathes, then slots their lips together properly. Ashton smiles into the kiss before he can get it under control and properly kiss back. Maybe it’s dramatic to say that this kiss feels like it’s filling some hole in Michael that he didn’t know was vacant, but Michael is a dramatic guy, and there’s something special about the way their noses bump and how instinctual it is to shift closer. Michael doesn’t really want it to end, so he gives Ashton another peck before pulling away fully. Ashton’s eyes take a moment to flutter open.

It’s definitely far too early to be in love, but Michael is very self-aware after being around for so long, and he knows he’s going to have to actively try not to fall head-over-heels for Ashton.

“Have a good night, Ashton,” Michael says.

“You too. Drive safe.”

Michael keeps his composure as he pulls out of the parking space, aware of Ashton’s eyes on him. He manages to keep it together all the way home, actually, but the moment his door shuts behind him he’s leaning against it, giddy with a crush and wondering what he’s just gotten himself into.

Movie nights become a bit of a thing. It’s a low-maintenance way to spend time together, and sometimes they’re both too tired after grueling work days or hard weeks to be around a lot of people. Michael’s house has a pretty nice tv, and he has an extensive movie collection, including some horrible b-movies on VHS that Ashton finds endlessly amusing. A lot of Michael’s favorite moments are spent snuggled up on the couch under Ashton’s arm or with his feet in his lap, watching the way the light from the screen plays off of his face more than the movie itself.

Ashton hasn’t seen the Twilight movies, which is almost a travesty. Michael watched all of them in theaters with Calum, both of them weirdly captivated with how completely bonkers and inaccurate they are, and they’ve seen them often enough to quote them almost completely to each other at the drop of a hat. Michael is tired today, and he wants something he doesn’t have to pay much attention to.

He sleeps significantly less than humans do, but that doesn’t mean that staying up for the past week and a half straight was a good idea. He was also on his feet more than usual at work, and everything is hurting a little. His body has better-than-average healing, but it’s also over a few centuries old. Today, he’s feeling it.

Edward has just gotten the first sniff of Bella and looks like he’s about to puke when Ashton turns to him. Michael is leaning against the corner of the couch, head lolling to the side and feet tucked up next to him. He’s been looking at Ashton and letting his thoughts drift, and he should probably be more embarrassed than he is that he was caught at it.

“What’s up with you today?” Ashton asks. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“Tired,” Michael says. “My feet hurt.”

“I can help with one of those things,” he says. “Give me your feet.”

“What?”

Ashton gestures until Michael uncurls, stretching his legs out until his feet land in Ashton’s lap. He starts at Michael’s ankles, gently rubbing and then moving to the bottoms of his feet. Michael jumps when he presses down on a particularly tight tendon, but it’s already feeling leagues better.

“I can’t believe you’re touching my feet,” he groans as Ashton presses a knuckle into the center, making his toes curl. “That’s so gross.”

Ashton snorts.

“I don’t mind, but I’ll wash my hands after if it makes you feel better. I just want to make you feel good.”

Michael’s face would be completely inflamed if he had the blood for it.

“Shut up. This better not be a fetish for you.”

Ashton laughs this time, a full belly laugh that Michael would enjoy hearing more if it didn’t make him stop the massage.

“Would that be a deal breaker?” he giggles when he’s calmed down enough. Michael takes a moment to evaluate if he’s actually joking or not, because he really likes Ashton and has loved being his boyfriend for the past couple of months, but feet might be where he draws the line.

“No, I don’t have a foot fetish,” Ashton says after a moment of Michael staring at him like a deer in the headlights. Michael lets out a sigh of relief. He can be adventurous about stuff like that, and he’s been around long enough to try basically everything, but someone being aroused by his feet will always be just a little too weird.

“Do you have any embarrassing fetishes or kinks?” Ashton asks conversationally. “Just… for future reference, if that’s something you want.”

They haven’t done anything besides some lazy making out, which Michael is grateful for. He likes that they’re taking their time with it. He doesn’t want to rush this, but the thought has crossed his mind before.

He swallows. Ashton’s alternating between glancing at the tv and paying attention to his massage, and Michael doesn’t know if he should be grateful that he’s not trapped under that gaze or upset that he doesn’t have Ashton’s full undivided attention.

“Nothing embarrassing,” Michael says. “I’m open to a lot of things, but I really like being taken care of. I’ve been told I can be demanding and needy. Sometimes I like… being held down, I guess. Nothing excessive, but…”

He’s an extra-strong, extra-resilient being. Every time he feels like someone else has the control, it’s a special kind of rush.

Ashton glances at him from under his eyelashes, the blue-green light from the tv casting strange and otherworldly shadows over his face. Michael swallows thickly again.

“I like taking care of my partner, so that works out,” Ashton says. Michael nods. Ashton turns back to the tv and tilts his head in consideration, putting his neck on full display.

“You know,” he says, “I never really was into biting, but now…” He trails off, then brings a finger up to his neck, tracing along the length of it subconsciously. At least, Michael hopes that it’s subconscious. The air is thick with tension, and if Ashton is doing this on purpose than he knows a lot more about Michael than he’s let on.

“It might be nice to be marked up a bit,” Ashton says. He glances at Michael, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. “Maybe Bella had the right idea, going after a vampire.”

Michael snorts and the tension dissipates like a balloon popping.

“I hardly think anyone in this movie counts as a real vampire.”

“You don’t think real vampires sparkle in the sun?” Ashton asks. “Darn. What’s the point of vampires if you have to dump glitter on them for the sparkle effect?”

“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs.

“I’m the idiot? You’re the one who’s all the way over there when you have a perfectly good boyfriend right here who’s ready to cuddle you.”

Michael rolls his eyes and shifts to tuck himself against Ashton’s side.

“Happy?” he asks.

“Very,” Ashton says, taking a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over them. It’s cozy. Michael sighs in contentment.

“Do your feet feel a little better?” Ashton asks, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“If you want to take a nap now, you can.”

Michael hums and seeks out Ashton’s other hand, tangling their fingers together sloppily. He’s tired, but he probably won’t drift off. He has all night for a power nap, and right now he doesn’t want to miss a second of his time with Ashton.

The door bangs shut behind them, and Michael doesn’t have a moment to reorient himself before Ashton is on him again, lips incessantly seeking his and body caging him against the wall. Michael’s own hands are already slipping under his shirt, desperate to feel the warm expanse of his back and pull him even closer. He’s always run cold, even before he was turned, but right now he feels like he’s burning up from the inside out, flames igniting with every point of contact between them. Ashton gets a hand in his hair and tugs, and Michael makes a noise he wasn’t expecting to come out of him.

Don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, don’t drop your fangs, he repeats to himself. It’s typically effortless to keep his fangs retracted and unnoticable, but he hasn’t done this with someone he truly likes in a very, very long time. He can’t allow himself to get so mindlessly overwhelmed that they slip down.

Ashton detaches their lips to take a breath, and Michael takes the opportunity to trail kisses over his jawline and down the column of his throat. Ashton hums into it, the sound reverberating through his vocal chords, and Michael nips at his throat to turn the hum into a groan, sucking at it again to ease the sting.

There’s a particular feeling of satisfaction at leaning back briefly to take in his progress, knowing that the blood is pooling just under the surface of Ashton’s skin. When he returns to his ministrations with a slightly harsher bite, Ashton jolts, rocking into him.

“Fuck, Michael,” he breathes.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Michael asks between kisses, trailing over his collarbones now because Ashton never buttons his fucking shirts.

“Anything. Everything. I--” He’s cut off by another groan that dissolves into a breathless laugh. “You’re so fucking distracting; get back up here.”

He tugs on Michael’s hair again, guiding their mouths together. It’s easier than breathing to let Ashton take control, and Michael could stand here all night and let himself be kissed against the wall if there weren’t other things he wanted to be doing in the bedroom. Still, he whines when Ashton pulls away.

“I know you don’t sleep, and I’ll keep up as much as I can,” Ashton pants. “I can’t fucking wait to take you apart.”

“So do it,” Michael says, not able to care about how desperate he sounds. “No one’s stopping you.”

“You’re such a mouthy little shit,” he says, leaning back in for a kiss that Michael feels all the way down to his toes. They don’t part again until they’re in the bedroom and falling onto the mattress.

-/-

Afterwards, Michael watches, amused, as Ashton fights to keep his eyes open. They never turned on the lights, but Michael can see just fine with his vampire eyesight and the early rays of sunshine beginning to paint the sky outside in pinks and oranges.

“Just go to sleep,” Michael laughs, tracing another mindless pattern onto Ashton’s ribs. “We’re done. I can’t handle anything else.”

“Weird to sleep when you’re not,” he mumbles, eyes already slipping closed again. “Can feel you watching me.”

“I won’t watch you,” Michael says. “I’ll probably fall asleep right after.”

Ashton snorts halfheartedly. Michael rolls his eyes, then nudges Ashton onto his side and fits himself behind him. Ashton sighs and relaxes again almost immediately, a heavy weight at his front while Michael slides one arm under the pillow and anchors them together with the other. He gets a great view of Ashton’s sweaty and tangled hair, and that’s about it.

“There,” Michael murmurs. “Now I can’t watch you. Happy?”

Ashton hums. He’ll be out in less than a minute.

Regardless of all of Ashton’s jokes about Michael never sleeping (he resents that he looks tired enough at all times for that to be an assumption), Ashton managed to tire him out. He doesn’t need to sleep right now, but there’s no harm in it. He lets the steady push and pull of Ashton’s breathing and the heartbeat he can barely feel under his palm lull him, and he drifts off soon after.

“You want me to meet your family?” Michael asks, eyes wide in the face of this new information.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Ashton says nonchalantly, but the way he’s avoiding Michael’s eyes tells him this conversation is anything but casual. He’s focused on throwing things into a blender, raspberries and peaches joining ice cubes and yogurt for a smoothie that Michael has watched him make dozens of times before. Michael can drink smoothies if they’re blended enough, and honestly he’s got a bit of a blood hunger going on because the last batch of his concoction from the magic store tasted gross and he’s supposed to go in today to get the new one. Still, a smoothie wouldn’t help with that, and he turned down Ashton’s offer in favor of a cup of coffee, wanting a warm mug in his hands. He’s glad to have something to keep his arms from flailing at this new curveball, in any case.

Ashton turns on the blender, the angry sound filling the previously-serene morning.

He can’t meet Ashton’s mum and siblings. He’s a vampire, and he’s already entirely too attached to Ashton as it is. It’s easy to fantasize about revealing his secret and Ashton being okay with it when it’s just the two of them, but there’s no way he can get to know his family only to break their heart when he has to leave Ashton for his own good.

Michael can’t watch Ashton grow old without him. He could do it for a few years, maybe a few decades, and he wants to spend as much time with him as possible, but eventually it would get too hard. Michael’s good at running, and he’s good at being alone. It’s harder to do both of those things with a family involved.

“That’s a big step,” Michael says once the blender stops.

“I’ve met Calum, and you said he’s closer than your family.”

“Against my will!”

Calum had insisted on meeting “the guy who’s got you wrapped around his finger,” and Michael had been powerless to stop it. They get on like a house fire and Michael gets teased about five times more than he used to, but he secretly loves it. Calum and Ashton are by far the two people he loves most in the world, and it’s nice to see them also enjoy each other.

“Michael,” Ashton says, pouring his smoothie into a glass and still refusing to look at him, something unfamiliar in his expression, “I’ve never gone this long without introducing them to someone I’m serious about. They really want to meet you.”

“I--I want to meet them, too, but…”

Ashton sighs and finally faces him head-on. Michael has never felt this small.

“Are you serious about us?”

“Of course,” he says, but it comes out more like a question, and he watches something shutter in Ashton’s eyes. He turns back to the blender, starting to dismantle it so he can rinse it properly, always trying to keep the kitchen neat, and Michael knows that he has to say something to try to fix this, anything to stop the sad slope of Ashton’s shoulders and that hurt look in his eyes.

“Ash, I have to tell you something,” he says before he can think twice. Ashton hums, and Michael steels himself for whatever reaction is about to occur, whether he has to bolt for the door or not. “I--um, well, I…”

He hasn’t had to confess to someone in over forty years. He doesn’t know how to do it anymore. He swallows and tries again.

“I don’t really know how to say this, but… I mean, I--”

“Shit,” Ashton exclaims, something clattering in the sink.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asks, and a second later the metallic tang of blood reaches his nose.

“Cut my thumb on the blender blades,” Ashton says, turning around and sticking the pad of his thumb in his mouth. Michael stares at him, unable to move.

The thing is, Ashton’s blood smells really good. He knew it would, because if he loves everything else about Ashton it makes sense that he would love him down to the blood in his veins and the DNA it carries, but this is the first time Ashton has split skin in his vicinity, and it’s more to handle than Michael thought it would be. He’s hungry, and he’s upset, and Ashton is right there in front of him, bleeding.

He shakes himself from that train of thought.

“Are you alright? How bad is it?” he asks. Ashton takes his thumb out of his mouth to check, and that just makes the smell intensify. Michael feels a bit of saliva pool in his mouth and swallows it back.

“It’s not too bad,” Ashton says. “It mostly just hurts, but once the bleeding lessens I’ll put a bandaid on it and it should be fine.”

He goes to put it back in his mouth and glances up at Michael, freezing at whatever he sees there. Michael doesn’t know what his face is doing, or why his posture feels so stiff, or what the fuck he’s supposed to do with Ashton just standing there with a bleeding thumb, and for a long moment they just stare at each other. Michael forgets to breathe.

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a startled animal towards him, Ashton reaches out his hand towards Micheal. A drop of blood drips off his thumb and onto the floor. Michael couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

“You know,” Ashton says, low and calm, “you could help me stop the bleeding, if you wanted.”

Michael stares at him, not comprehending the words, when he feels two pinpricks on the inside of his bottom lip.

His fangs dropped.

“I have to go,” he says, scrambling out of his seat and hastily putting his coffee on the table. He probably spills some, but he can’t look back to check, shoving on his shoes and sprinting out the door, Ashton’s questions echoing behind him.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

He’s scrambling for his phone as he tries to unlock his car, tears starting to cloud his vision with the panic. He presses Calum’s speed dial as soon as he gets the door open, tearing out of the parking space without putting on his seatbelt.

“Hello?” Calum finally answers.

“My fangs dropped,” he says, consonants coming out in that strange way they do when his mouth has more teeth than usual.

“What happened?” Calum asks immediately. He knows how serious something like this can be, especially for someone like Michael, who tries so hard to avoid it. He sniffles and blinks the tears out of his eyes so he can see the road better. Calum’s house is close, and he just needs to get a few more blocks before he has backup.

“I was with Ashton and he cut himself on a blender. I--we had a fight, or--I made him feel bad, in any case, and I haven’t eaten enough, and then he cut himself and I felt the fangs and ran out of there with no explanation. He’s going to hate me. I’ve ruined everything!”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Calum says, but it’s not like Ashton is his boyfriend. Michael doesn’t know how to recover from something like this.

Calum tries to console him for the rest of the short car ride, stopping once Michael pulls into his driveway to turn an assessing gaze on him instead. His expression tells Michael that he’s leaving much to be desired right now.

“Alright, Mikey. Let’s get you out of the sun, yeah? We’ll figure this out.”

He holds out his arms, and Michael falls right into them, letting Calum lead him into the house. His fangs still prick at his lips, a sharp reminder of everything he ruined due to one second of lousy control.

The bell to the magic shop digs as they enter, and Michael pulls down his sunglasses. Calum got him to stop crying and gave him a bit of his own leftover concoction, because he hadn’t drunk all of it due to the taste, either. It was enough for Michael to be able to get his fangs back under control, but it doesn’t stop how miserable he feels about the way he left, or the conversation they were having beforehand.

He can’t let himself be around Ashton if his fangs are going to drop like that. He would never hurt him, he knows that, but there’s still the potential that he can’t ignore. Ashton’s safety and comfort isn’t something he can risk. Even if Ashton was somehow okay with him being a vampire, they wouldn’t work.

Michael has known this since the beginning. He let himself fall in love, anyway.

There are three missed calls and over a dozen text messages that he still has to try to answer on his phone. There’s no way to do that without breaking both of their hearts, but Calum told Ashton that Michael is physically okay and that he’d talk to him tomorrow. For now, he needs to sort through his own feelings and calm down, and for that they need to pick up the weekly blood supply.

“Hi!” the witch at the counter says. His name is Luke, and Calum’s been flirting with him ever since he started working there. It would be cute if it didn’t make these excursions so tedious, and if Michael himself wasn’t currently mourning what is soon to be the end of an absolutely spectacular relationship.

“Our usual, please,” he says curtly. Luke glances between him and Calum, who gives a beaming smile, then heads to the back storage room.

“Maybe it’ll taste less like shit this time,” he mutters. Calum nudges him, but doesn’t get the chance to say anything before the bell over the door chimes again. Michael knows who it is before he turns around, the scent and rhythm of his heartbeat as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Ashton freezes in the doorway. He has changed into a sweatshirt, the one he wears when he’s having a bad day because it feels like a perpetual hug without having to be touched, and Michael is probably going to cry again. Out of the three of them, Calum pulls himself together first.

“Hello, Ashton. I didn’t know you frequented this shop.”

“Ashton!” Luke says, returning from the back with their order in a crate. “Did you bring it?”

Michael finally notices the tupperware in his hands when he hands it to Luke, who opens a corner and sniffs.

“You know each other?” Michael asks.

“Oh, sorry!” Luke says. “This is Ashton, my roommate. I’d never eat lunch if he wasn’t there to bring it to me.”

“You’re the roommate?” Michael asks. In all of their months of dating, he never managed to meet the roommate, even though Ashton has known Calum for weeks. Weird schedules and Michael’s aversion to meeting and possibly getting attached to more people prevented it. Luke looks between Michael, Calum, and Ashton, and then a lightbulb hits.

“You’re Ashton’s Michael!”

“How many other vampires named Michael do you know?” Ashton asks, and Michael reels back, Calum’s hand on his spine the only thing keeping him upright.

“You know?” Ashton frowns.

“Michael, I’ve known since the first day I met you.”

“Wh--you never mentioned it!”

“I made some references, then figured it wasn’t something you were comfortable talking about.”

“Wait,” Luke says. “You know Ashton is a minor deity, right?”

“What? ”

Michael turns desperately to Calum, because none of this makes sense, but Calum is having some sort of silent conversation with Luke.

“You two need to talk,” he says eventually.

“I need to show Calum something in the back, anyway,” Luke says, grabbing Calum’s sleeve and tugging him around the counter, shutting the door to the storeroom behind them. It’s not the slickest move that Michael’s ever seen, but he’s having a crisis and can’t be bothered to laugh at Luke for it.

“So,” Ashton says. “It seems there’s been a bit of miscommunication here.”

“You’re a deity?” Michael asks. Ashton starts to blush, which is cute. He clasps his hands together and nods once.

“Yeah, my entire family is. The religion died down centuries ago, so it’s mostly our belief in each other that’s keeping us alive. I’m basically just an immortal human now, but I’ve been around long enough to recognize other non-humans when I see them.”

“And you’ve known I was a vampire the entire time?” he asks. Ashton nods. “Oh.”

“I thought that you knew that I knew,” he says.

“I didn’t,” Michael says. “I thought you would hate me when you found out.”

“I could never hate you,” Ashton says, taking a step forward and reaching for him before he aborts the movement. Michael looks at his feet and wonders if what he says next will change that.

“My fangs dropped earlier, when you cut your thumb.” His voice is steadier than anticipated, but he can’t help but brace himself for Ashton to back away or run screaming. He doesn’t do either of those.

“Is that why you left so quickly?”

He nods, shame pooling in his stomach.

“I was offering, you know? I wouldn’t have minded if you had a taste.”

“But I didn’t know that at the time,” Michael says, focusing on the shame so he doesn’t do something horrible like start thinking about what it would really be like to have some of Ashton’s blood. “I just… lost control. I can’t do that. I won’t let myself.”

“I think you’re being a little hard on yourself,” Ashton says gently, stepping closer until he can put his hands on Michael’s arms, then sliding down to grasp his hands. “Can you look at me?” Michael tries, then shakes his head. “That’s okay, and your fangs dropping earlier is okay, too. You had a lot on your mind, were probably a little hungry, and I was waving my bloody finger under your nose, even if you didn’t recognize it as an invitation. What’s important is that you didn’t try anything without asking. You didn’t hurt me; you removed yourself from the situation. I would say that that’s keeping things pretty under control, wouldn’t you?”

“But I could’ve hurt you, even if I didn’t.”

“Michael, you’re not a mindless beast,” Ashton says. “The fact that you’re this upset about your body’s natural physical reaction shows that. You’re not going to do anything to hurt someone else like that. You have to trust yourself.”

Michael wrinkles his nose, then finally makes himself meet Ashton’s eyes. There’s nothing but compassion there, no fear or disgust.

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Ashton repeats.

“I’m not going to hurt anyone,” Michael agrees. “I can trust myself with that.”

A grin breaks out on Ashton’s face.

“Good,” he says. “I trust you, too.”

“And, about meeting your family,” Michael starts.

“Don’t worry about that,” Ashton says. “I was a little pushy. We can talk about it and figure out something that works for both of us.”

“I was going to say that I’ll do it,” Michael says. “Half of my worry had to do with me being a vampire and you and your family being unsuspecting humans, but that’s not an issue anymore.”

“What about the other half?”

“Just normal meeting-the-family jitters,” he says. “They’re really important to you, and I don’t want them to hate me because I didn’t meet them earlier.”

“They won’t hate you,” Ashton says. “You’re a delight.”

“I hope they share that thought.”

“They will. I love you, so they will, too.”

Michael feels like he’s going to burst. He also feels menally exhausted from this entire affair and the emotional whiplash it’s giving him.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Ashton answers by leaning forward, and Michael sinks against him, melting into the feeling.

“So,” Calum says loudly, startling them both. “Are you guys good now?”

“What do you think?” he snips.

“I don’t know, Luke,” Calum says, turning away from Michael and towards him. “Do you think that they’re good now?”

“They did look rather cosy,” Luke says. “In fact, I’d say that Ashton looked ready to pledge himself to Michael as his personal blood bank. His little ketchup packet, if you will.”

Calum bursts out laughing. Michael tries to be affronted, but Ashton starts laughing incredulously next to him.

“Ketchup packet? Is that what I’m reduced to?”

“There are worse titles,” Calum says between bouts of laughter. Luke looks ridiculously pleased at this development.

“Please never refer to him as my ketchup packet again,” Michael says. “I’m begging you not to.”

“If the fangs fit,” Luke says, which makes Calum dissolve into laughter again. It’s not even funny. Honestly, they deserve each other.

“Come on,” Ashton says. “Let’s go back to my place. I want to hear all about your vampire antics from the olden days, now that I know you’re okay with talking about it.”

“Only if I get to hear stories about being a minor deity,” Michael says, grabbing his part of the blood order. “Cal, you’re paying for this one!”

They’re out the door before Calum can protest, and Ashton puts an arm around his waist as they walk. It’s uncomfortably sunny out, but Michael feels no rush to get back inside. They’re both immortal, and they’ve got the rest of their lives.

#5soshalloweenevent2020 #my writing #mashton #5sos fic #this was super fun #I had a great time tbh #I like being forced to write au fics because I do so many canon-verse ones #disclaimer there is a joke at the end that I felt compelled to include #due to it being so ridiculous #but it is ainslee who originally said it. I cannot take credit :)

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lokidiabolus · 4 years

Text

The Deal - Chapter 2

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: I think Cajun Alastor is wonderful but for the love of god I can't write that shit, so I apologize in advance. Please pretend it's readable.

Unbetad!

2020, January 16th

“Mamaaa, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he’s dead~.”

Alastor raised his head from a book he snatched from Anthony’s poor excuse of a collection and narrowed his eyes. Anthony could see him in the corner of his eye, even though the demon excused himself to the living room because Anthony insisted on playing his music and not Alastor’s radio, and he couldn’t help it was Nicki Minaj for the first three songs. He even put it on shuffle too!

I’ve already died once, don’t need to repeat the experience, Alastor rudely scoffed at Anthony’s phone and left the room, even though he was bragging just night before he’d totally help with cooking. He didn’t even touch the knife before storming out rather than listen to anything modern.

“Mama, life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away. Mama, ooh, didn't mean to make you cry~,” Anthony singsonged with the melody while grating cheese and could literally feel Alastor’s eyes stabbing the back of his head. Probably not a fan of Queen either.

“If I'm not back again this time tomorrow, carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters~,” he twirled around the counter to get plates out of cupboard, “Too late, my time has come, sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time. Goodbye everybody, I've got to go, gotta leave you all behind and face the truth~.”

He made a pirouette and his voice skipped an octave when he almost crashed into Alastor suddenly standing in front of him, right in Anthony’s personal bubble, just looming (which was strange he could, since he was half a head shorter than Anthony, yet it couldn’t be described otherwise). He didn’t say anything, just watched Anthony handle the plates clumsily until the human finally managed to put them on the counter without incident.

“See something you like?” Anthony batted his eyelashes while making a pose with pursed lips and Alastor looked him up and down and smirked:

“Not really.”

“Ouch.”

“What is this song about?” the demon ignored him and nodded towards the phone in the middle of Bohemian Rhapsody, surprisingly sounding curious instead of displeased like before (but alright, it was fair of him to be put off when Anaconda was the first thing he heard, Anthony didn’t blame him).

“Don’t have Freddie in hell?” Anthony chuckled and returned back to filling the plates with Carbonara. It wasn’t like he wanted to fall into an Italian household stereotype but Alastor seemed to like Italian cuisine and it was something Anthony was confident in anyway. Also the praise was always a pretty nice bonus and Anthony might have been fishing for it a little bit.

“Not that I know of,” Alastor hummed. “So what is it about? Murder?”

“I mean… I guess? Sorta?” Anthony shrugged and pushed a plate of steaming food into Alastor’s hands, then gestured towards the table. “Should be about a man who accidentally killed somebody and then sold his soul to the devil.”

“How intriguing!” Of course Alastor would like that topic, grinning like a loon. “You knew the lyrics by heart.”

“It’s a famous song,” Anthony stuck out his tongue. “Everybody knows the lyrics. It’s like an anthem, ya know. Great song.”

“Likeable,” the demon admitted and sat at the table while Anthony handed him a fork and a spoon. “Thank you, dear. Looks splendid as always.”

“I try,” Anthony beamed while sitting down as well. “Oh. Actually, what if I killed somebody too, like, in the future-,”

“Now that would be an adventure, would it not?” Alastor interrupted him with even a wider smile, while the invisible audience cheered, like the idea of murder appealed to him. Why wouldn’t it, as a demon of course he wouldn’t go ew, don’t.

“I’m too pretty for jail, ya know,” Anthony gave him an unamused glare. Alastor hummed in agreement and started eating, his eyes lighting up happily. For a hell person he sure was such a foodie.

“Aww, so you think I’m pretty?” Anthony cooed at him and Alastor glared. It was a thing with this guy – he handled flirtations very badly. Either he got angry or super frustrated, and the latter was honestly so adorable Anthony risked the wrath too often for his own good. “So, what do you like about me?”

“When you don’t talk.” Came a curt reply and Anthony snorted and let him get off the hook.

“What I meant was – what if I killed somebody but didn’t want to go to jail. And wanted to make a deal with you about keeping me safe from them? Would it work?”

“Why wouldn’t it work?” Alastor glanced at him from the food. “Safety is nothing difficult to achieve.”

“I mean,” Anthony leaned against his palm. “We already made a deal. Can you make two deals with the same person?”

“I can make as many deals as I want with the same person,” Alastor answered while twirling his fork in spaghetti. “Why would you think I could not?”

“Not that ya couldn’t but… more like it’s not worth it for ya anymore, right?” Anthony suggested and it seemed like he made an interesting point, since Alastor stopped eating to fully concentrate on the problem. “As in, ya already have my soul-,”

“Heart.”

“And undying love, of course,” Anthony winked at him, earning an eyeroll. Fair. “But another deal would not give ya anything else. Ya already have what ya wanted.”

“Oh, indeed,” the demon nodded thoughtfully. “Obviously true. It depends on the individual. Some demons can take years off the remaining life of the mortal, or actually only state the remaining years for their service, then come collect the life once the time is up.”

“Like they give ya an amazing painting skill, but you have… ten years to live and enjoy the fame?” Anthony prompted and Alastor nodded in agreement. “That sounds… pretty rough. Why would anybody take that?”

“Why would anybody do anything? Mortals are greedy. They want to be acknowledged. Or they fight sheer, absolute boredom and want to elevate it by any means necessary,” the demon tapped his claws against the table in quick staccato. “You think it is not worth it?”

“I mean maybe when I’m fifty, sure, ten years sounds fine,” Anthony shrugged. “But ten years from now? I guess I’d be bummed.”

“Maybe you are not thinking big enough,” Alastor gave him a wide smile. “Not all demons take remaining life force though. Everybody has different methods if necessary. Though the heart is usually a priority.”

“Not for everybody though?”

“Some don’t want underlings,” the demon opposed. “Some only work for Hell itself and don’t take anything, only assure the soul will belong to Hell once the mortal die. Some actually feed on the life force of humans. Hell is having all kind of horrors you can think of, you see.”

“At least yer a daydream,” Anthony winked and Alastor’s smile twitched. Easy. “Building your own harem down there, ya kinky bastard.”

“And here I thought we’re having a meaningful conversation,” the demon sighed and returned to the food, which made Anthony snicker.

“I mean… what do I know, it could be,” he teased him. “What else would ya need some poor bastard’s hearts to do your bidding?”

“To tell them when they need to close their pretty mouths shut if they want to keep them,” Alastor smiled at him sweetly, his crimson eyes shining, and alright, okay, threats on Thursday evening were a thing now. Anthony imitated a zipper on his mouth and quieted down, but still, it was kind of hilarious. Maybe a week ago he’d still be afraid of Alastor pouncing at over the table and slashing his throat but now it was more like no talk, I’m angy sort of meme.

The silence didn’t last very long when Alastor set the fork down and looked at Anthony with curiosity.

“You are full of vigour today,” he observed. “Something good happened? You seem to be in jolly mood.”

“Just glad ya could make it,” Anthony grinned. Alastor became very reliable when it came to the dinner dates and weekend plans after the New Year’s fiasco, never missed one when he promised to come. They found a certain rhythm in the cohabitation and Anthony got used to his presence maybe a little too fast. The man was an enigma with the way he behaved – they slept huddled together no problem, Alastor could be super clingy when he wanted to (rarely though, usually more like only when somehow too tired), but once they were out of the bedroom, any contact was met with stiffness or a five foot rule. The latter became a thing about a week after New Year’s thanks to Anthony’s inability to keep his hands to himself when it came to Alastor’s fluffiness. The hair, the ears and the tail that wagged when he liked something enough, which obviously couldn’t leave Anthony calm, right? A damn cute fluffy wagging tail just… there, for touching.

Well, Alastor wasn’t amused, not by a long shot. The moment Anthony gathered enough courage and touched the thing, the edge of Alastor’s microphone was pushing against his chest to keep him away, and he would have sworn there were creepy symbols flying all around the demon’s head like he was ready to let Anthony get swallowed by some Eldritch monster. Therefore five foot rule became a thing unless it was Alastor who initiated the touch – which was another weird thing about the man. He had no respect for personal space whatsoever, like at all, when he wanted to point out something, make a statement or just felt like it, but once somebody else breached his personal bubble, he bristled like a cat with murderous intent. So Anthony kept his hands to himself but started flirting. Honestly kind of expected a five words rule to happen at some point, but until then he just wanted to have his fun.

“I see,” Alastor watched him carefully and then picked the fork again. “And here I thought you won a lottery or maybe fell in love.”

“Yer the only love of my life, don’t ya worry,” Anthony winked because he could and Alastor let out a sigh that honestly didn’t even sound that fed up, more like just out of habit. “But like. It’s kinda convenient. If somebody confessed to me, that is.”

“Oh?” Alastor’s eyes were sharp.

“My heart belongs to another!” Anthony stated dramatically and then let out a small laugh. “Not even lying? Like. My heart is taken, literally, by the deal we made, it would be like an ultimate move.”

The demon seemed to ponder it, then said nothing. Probably didn’t want to rain on Anthony’s parade on shutting him down needlessly. Naturally, Anthony didn’t think any romance was possible, or even vaguely interesting for the demon, so all his jabs were good-natured but without seriousness.

Or almost all of them. He would be lying if he didn’t admit at least to himself he liked Alastor as a person, not only as a convenient body pillow with Bambi tail he didn’t even let him touch. But such thoughts were private, and he kept them hidden and locked inside of his mind. He learned well enough not to hope to protect himself, and the only relationship there could be was a master and an underling – eventually. Once Anthony die.

Though… who knew when he was going to die. Was Alastor willing to do this his whole life? What if he was going to live to 80? Was he going to cuddle with him and eat dinners every three days in a week for 49 years?

But then again… what is time for a demon? He didn’t even know how old Alastor was. By appearance he’d say maybe around Anthony’s age, but then again, he was never half deer so… could be different. Did deer age count the same as dogs?

“If you ever needed an excuse for that kind of thing,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his voice staticky as always, a weirdly comforting noise lately. “I would recommend saying your husband has a wide collection of knives. It usually scares people away.”

“Pfff.” Husband. “Would need a ring for that, ya know.”

“Mhm,” the demon hummed, not adding anything else. Seriously. He just kept leaving so many openings, there was no way Anthony would not use those when he had a chance.

“So how many knives you have, husband?” he sent him a bright smile and Alastor carefully twirled carbonara on his fork before putting it to his mouth primly, chewed and then gulped down, as a show of how not amusing the jab was, Anthony thought.

Then, after another moment: “About twelve.”

Anthony made a croaking noise and completely missed a smile Alastor hid with another bite of food.

***

“Anthony.”

“Mmmm?”

The clock showed 1 in the morning and Anthony couldn’t fall asleep, no matter how hard he cuddled Alastor under the blanket. He tossed and turned and Alastor had to pull him back to him about ten times, but sleep eluded them both, even with the white noise of Alastor’s static floating around that usually lulled Anthony well enough.

“Can you play the murder song again,” Alastor requested from under Anthony’s weight, sprawled around the middle of the bed.

“Hah, sure,” the human reached for his phone resting on the nightstand and almost blinded himself when the display lit up. He clicked few times until Bohemian Rhapsody broke the silence of the otherwise quiet flat before returning back to lie on top of his demon.

“Sing with it too?” another request and Anthony prompted his chin on Alastor’s chest.

“Can’t sleep either?”

“You keep tossing and turning,” Alastor said simply. “Not me. Sing?”

Anthony raised an eyebrow, but there was no reasoning for the request, so he just softly sang along with the music, looking at Alastor with half lidded eyes until he couldn’t hold them open anymore. The song eventually ended, and Anthony finally felt sleep tugging on his consciousness like he just performed a lullaby that worked a bit too well.

“You asked about more deals for one person before,” he distantly felt a hand going through his hair and only hummed. “For you, my dear, I would close more deals if you ever asked me.”

“Aww,” he chuckled sleepily, his arms circling Alastor’s torso with possessiveness.

“The happier you are,” he heard, “the better your psyche becomes. The stronger the demon you’d be down there.”

“Boo, how cold,” Anthony pouted. “And here I thought ya actually liked me, at least a little.”

“You are… tolerable.” Anthony missed the small smile playing on Alastor’s lips, his face buried in the man’s red shirt. “But I am a professional, you see.”

“A professional dealmaker,” he yawned.

“Quite so.”

“Ya have that in your resume too?” Anthony couldn’t stop the tease. “Ya know, next to professional cuddler?”

“Probably as much as you have an immense tease in yours,” the demon uttered and his voice was thundering in his chest, which was weird, because it sounded like a completely different person without the static echo. Anthony liked it though.

“Sure, but also a good cook,” the human chuckled, “and a quality wife, ya see.”

A hum, then silence. Anthony considered the conversation closed, until Alastor spoke again softly: “There are always ways to get something in return for another deal, beside the servitude or life force.”

“Mmmlikewhat.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

And with that Anthony fell asleep before any kind of dirty joke could come out.

***

2020, January 17th

It stayed in his head the whole next day. He kept thinking about it at home when getting ready to go out, then at work when taking orders and wondered, if a favourite dish made for dinner would be a possible kind of payment for the deal in Alastor’s book. What a demon like him could possibly want beside the heart he already got? He knew Alastor enjoyed good food, but was that actually something that could be exchanged for a supernatural request?

Or was it something kinky, like that in hell the only title Anthony would be able to use when talking to him would be Master? Or My Lord? Anthony could see himself do that, sure, though only in a joke to rile him up a little.

Funny how any fear of the guy went down the drain after the Bambi revelation, no matter how scary Alastor tried to be sometimes.

“Love, this is the third time you messed up an order, are you okay?” his colleague patted his shoulder and he blinked at her in confusion.

“Oh shit, did I?” he realized, after a long loading screen in his brain completed, what she just said and snapped back to reality where the demon in red didn’t bat his eyelashes at him. Not that he ever did. But he could dream. “I’m so sorry, my mind is in a gutter.”

“Yeah, can see that,” the girl patted his arm this time. He wasn’t sure why she was so touchy-feely all of sudden, but didn’t comment on it. “Something on your mind?”

“Weekend plans,” he shrugged and well, he wasn’t even lying, really. This was their weekend together and since Alastor didn’t mention any kind of obstacle in attending, it was Anthony’s turn to think of something to do. The forecast looked glum though, so going outside was probably not the best choice of outing, unless it would be short, so indoors activity sounded a little more satisfying. Maybe they could order some good food home, rather than cook this time. Or drink. Oooh, they could actually drink! He wondered if Alastor even liked alcohol.

“Man, Tony, are you in love or something?” the girl sighed, snapping her fingers in front of him. “You keep spacing out!”

“Well,” he glanced at her with a grin. “My heart has definitely been taken-,”

“In which gangbang this time?” another colleague cut in, smiling at him with fake sweetness while putting empty glasses in the sink with a loud thud. He didn’t even see her coming. “Did they pay you enough to buy you completely? Or just a quickie outside like always?”

Ouch.

“Don’t be salty just because nobody would fuck you even for free,” he cocked his hips. “Heard duster is good for cobwebs though.”

“Whatever you say, slut,” she made a face at him. “I’m not being the one spreading STD.”

“Good at spreading bullshit though,” he shot back, making her give him an uptight smile and a smack of her ponytail when she dramatically turned away and left for the kitchen. He decided not to comment on that and was kind of glad the other girl kept her mouth shut too.

Obviously, everybody at work knew about the New Year’s and his fall from grace – though that would indicate there was grace to begin with, which honestly was not. Maybe he should start looking for another job with how bleak things looked in this pub. The whole week after New Year’s random guys kept making pass at him even in his regular waiter clothes, like somebody just decided to advertise the pub as fuck-to-go eatery and it made his skin itch, especially when some of them were more handsy than others and didn’t understand no sent their way. A slap on his butt there, a grope here, hey cutie called from another table, and the girls he worked with either glared at him or had nasty remarks he should have already been able to deflect, but sometimes he just could not. He wasn’t made of sugar, some bad words and pointed fingers didn’t make him cry, but they didn’t add to good mood either.

He was always relieved if that evening Al showed up and took his worries away with the well-known staticky voice and invisible audience cheering at some of his bad dad jokes. Honestly, he had lots of bad dad jokes it was almost unreal, and the saddest thing was he unironically liked them while Anthony groaned every time he told some. He was just glad so far Alastor didn’t use those cringe worthy abominations against the flirting, because that would definitely shut Anthony down fast.

There were still four hours to his shift and for the first time since he knew Alastor he regretted the demon didn’t have a phone, so he could hear his voice while he locked himself in the bathroom stall with knees under his chin and quivering lip.

***

Anthony still didn’t know what to do over the weekend. It felt like he should have a plan, like there should be a diary or something, with post-it notes and differently coloured entries, but all he could do when he got back home was to sag down in the living room like a bag of potatoes on the couch and open a bottle of tequila. No limes, no salt, just the bottle and big gulps of it. He chugged it several times until the annoying tightness in his chest slowly eased off, until he could breathe normally and the bitter words he heard every time he turned his back towards the bar dissolved in burning taste of alcohol.

Who cared. People were mean and greedy, and he was broken and rotten to the core. Those things usually never combined well together, and he was a living proof. When was the last time he even had a friend? When did somebody expressed concern for him? Damn, when even was the last time somebody held his hair when he threw up?

Self-centred bitch. Show-off. Attention seeker. Dirty slut. A whore.

All fun and smiles and oh, I will do your make up, sweetie, oh, let me do your hair, honey, oh, this costume looks so cute on you, and oh, was it just a quickie outside or you fucked the whole train station? Did he just give you a ride home or you sucked his dick for it? Oh, new shoes? Which sugar daddy’s money was it today?

“Nobody’s fuckin’ money!” he yelled at nothing, swinging the almost empty bottle of tequila around. “None of yer fuckin’ business!”

Maybe we should do next costume event BDSM themed, our little darling angel Tony would love to lick somebody’s boots again.

“Fuck off!” A loud shattering noise when the bottle hit the wall felt like his sanity was breaking to pieces. “Just leave me the fuck alone…”

His brain was so hazed he barely registered arms circling around him, pulling him into a hug. He was swayed from side to side with a soft, crooning noise above him, and thought damn, how bad is it I even hallucinate? Up until he finally focused enough to realize he was engulfed with blackness without any real warmth, just suddenly there, holding him.

“Oh…” he chuckled pathetically. “It’s you.”

The Shadow nuzzled his face but didn’t say anything, just continued to hold him. Frankly, Anthony had no idea what day it was, even what time or where exactly he ended up, if he moved at all, if Alastor was supposed to come but couldn’t make it, so he sent Junior instead, or if this was some kind of weird, alcohol induced vision of much needed comfort.

“Whacha do’n her’, big boy?” The words were slurring together, the alcohol was doing its magic. “Al’s busy busy busy?”

Another nuzzle. Was that a touch therapy? Nobody touched him so readily before. Not even Al who cuddled him at night, but usually touched him only in two prime locations – his waist and around neck and head for pats, but otherwise kept his hands to himself. The Shadow on the other hand just pawed at him pretty much like a big dog wanting to rub all over and Anthony blearily wondered how a man and his shadow could be so different.

“Th’re, t’re,” he patted the Shadow’s head, a strange ghost-like tingling going through his hand. “Ar’ ya sad too?”

The hold remained and the dark tendrils from the shade were covering half of the couch like an expensive Persian rug. That mental image made Anthony bark out a drunken laugh. Could somebody’s shadow be sad? It was clinging to him like a lifeline and Anthony felt the tequila churning in his belly as if it were trying to burn its way through.

“Ah,” he finally realized what the shadow was doing. “Yer tryin’ t’ comf’rt me.”

A hum, clearly agreeing. It made Anthony relax into the hold, feeling a little like floating and not sitting on his tequila-stained couch, and yeah, it was relaxing, it was nice, it was… different.

“Wond’r how Al’s hugs ar’,” he sighed then giggled stupidly. “Prob’ly warm an’ nice. D’es he ev’n hug pe’ple?”

Maybe he did hug people. Just different people. Not Anthony, at least. Touching only when necessary. Maybe he could make a deal about hugging, Al said more deals are possible. Maybe he could ask for one hug a week or something, like one full body hug and then wait for seven days for Al to get his barriers back… or whatever he had. Human contact aversion, probably. He just wasn’t sure what to give in return. Being a personal cook? Not flirting at any point ever again?

Would Al even want shit like that? Or would he want some of his life force? Years off his back? He would give them… for Alastor. If he wanted his life force, Anthony wouldn’t mind if it was him. His life was not worth much anyway.

Would Alastor want something as rotten as his life energy though? Sure, he wanted his heart at least, but it just meant to have a servant later on, nothing he would feed himself with.

Unless he ate his servants. That would kinda suck.

“I k’nda like ‘im, y’kno,” he confessed quietly, slowly slipping lower in the hold. The anger he felt was already gone, now the tequila tried to pull at melancholy, and he didn’t like it. Didn’t need to be sad over the fact the only person at least vaguely resembling affectionate concern was a demon from hell that got paid with his soul and heart for acting out of his character three times a week. “Path’tic me, huh.”

Nuzzling ensued. He liked Al’s shadow. He was like a big animal soaking up bad vibes and making Anthony calmer.

“Wish I c’n talk to ‘im when I feel sad,” he mumbled to himself and barely registered the shadow pulled them both down to the cushions. “’s he French? He sounded French ‘nce…”

“Cajun,” rang through the room and Anthony attempted to focus, but his vision kept on blurring. Maybe he drank too much after all. “Louisiana.”

“Bayou boy?” he giggled anyway. “That’s cute.”

“You drank too much, cher,” rang through the room again and then another sigh came, and radio static buzzed to life. “And you. I was wondering where you slithered to.”

There was a rumble from under Anthony and he felt the force supporting him up to now disappearing until he only felt the couch around him and nothing else. He blinked in confusion before his vision cleared enough to realize all the darkness around him was gone, but legs clothed in red were standing next to him instead. They definitely weren’t there prior to his meltdown, he remembered as much.

He rubbed his eyes and attempted to look up before it finally dawned on him that this was Alastor standing here, flesh and bone and he didn’t even need to get all the way up to his face.

“Look at you,” the voice sounded a little exasperated and human. There was no static whatsoever. “Dat’s da second time you did somethin’ like dis.”

“Hi, Al,” Anthony tried sheepishly, and a clawed hand pushed him back into the cushions when he tried to sit down. Maybe for the best, the floor seemed to wobble more than usual.

“Hi yo’self,” the human voice was so warm. Or maybe he was drunk enough to imagine it that way. “How’s dat you make my shadow to just go and disappear from ‘ell just fo’ you?”

“I guess he likes me,” Anthony slid down the armrest and finally took in the whole Alastor’s height, gazing at his face he couldn’t read even if he tried to. He watched the demon look around until he stopped at the corner where the bottle landed and fell apart and his eyebrows knitted together.

“Hey Al,” Anthony raised a hand and tried to grab at something of the mans’ but missed. He tried few more times but couldn’t decide which of the three Alastors were the right one, so he just fumbled around until Alastor took a pity on him and grabbed his hand in his, stilling him. Also, warm. So, so warm. “Do you ever hug people?”

“No,” the demon answered back simply. “Do you?”

Anthony took a breath with sure answer, then stopped and thought about it.

“…I guess not,” he conceded momentarily. “Nobody t’ hug, really.”

“D’you wanna hug?” came a question and Anthony looked at their joined hands and let out a long, tired sigh.

“Ya,” he croaked out. “I wanna hug. I dun even rememb’r who or when I hugged someb’dy last.”

“I think I hugged ma mum last,” Alastor slowly lowered himself on the couch, sitting at Anthony’s feet, his hand still gripping his prey tightly. “Long time ago.”

“Was she nice?” the human whispered softly.

“Very nice.”

“Do ya miss her?”

“Ev’ry day,” Alastor had the softest expression Anthony ever saw on him. It was almost painful to see and yet somehow beautiful it would be a waste not to look. He wondered if Alastor was ever in love with somebody other than his mum.

“She in heaven?” he asked gently and only got a nod as a response. He felt his head clearing a little and hoped he would remember this tomorrow as clearly as he saw it now. He tried to scramble up, though it probably was the least dignified climb he ever did and then shuffled close to the demon, sitting down with his knees almost touching Alastor’s thigh. Almost.

“Tell me ‘bout her,” he nudged him gently.

The demon tilted his head, the buzz of the static coming to life all of sudden it almost startled him. Probably not the best topic to breach, he realized and looked down at the clawed hand that was still holding his with surprising gentleness.

“Your shadow is pretty independent, huh,” he changed the topic for peace of mind of both of them, and the buzzing intensified. Fuck, not that either.

“My shadow has no filter,” the static voice rang out, the tenseness of Alastor’s smile indicating the situation bothered him more than he let on at first. “He does what feels right.”

So, it felt right for it to come here and comfort Anthony when he felt like shit and wanted to drink himself into stupor?

“It’s nice sometimes,” Anthony tried carefully. “To do what feels right instead of worryin’ ‘bout consequences.”

The static picked up in obvious disagreement and Alastor was glaring at him, his eyes redder than ever.

“Like you do all your miserable life?” the demon uttered venomously, and Anthony felt his heart drop into his stomach and dissolve. When Alastor let go of his hand and abruptly stood up, it felt so far away it could have been considered out of body experience for how cold it suddenly became.

“Well,” his mouth moved by some miracle, though he felt his lower lip quiver. “Some days are hard and lonely. And then I get called a slut at work and groped by random guys because they think they’re allowed, and I feel like I need a hug and safety, but nobody can give me what I want, so I cling to somethin’ that feels right at least a little, even though it’s not good… or healthy… or… “

Sincere and not a lie.

“Or I just wanna forget all that shit by doin’ more dumb shit, because… why not. At least it makes me free for a while, other than just… surviving,” he tried to take a breath but it came in wet and hiccup-y and he realized he was already crying like a pathetic fool thinking a demon could give a shit about anything more than the end of the deal and one more chess piece on his black and white board.

Fucking, stupid idiot, like always. Even though he knew. He knew.

The static was so loud now it made Anthony cover his ears and shut his eyes and he felt sick in the stomach and the fucking tequila wanted to fuck him up now, because why not now, at this exact moment, when everything else was falling apart.

Just go away, go the fuck away, leave me alone.

Then everything stopped. When Anthony opened his eyes, he was alone.

***

2020, January 18th

Anthony woke up on the couch with a crick in his neck and stomach unstable like nitro-glycerine ready to explode. The room smelled of tequila shots and vomit and heartbreak and his whole body was in weird, gut wrenching spasm.

He stared into the ceiling with a splitting headache and wished he’d draw a blank about last night, because nothing about this situation gave a merciful vibe, only bad, bad consequences.

Like Alastor leaving, angry and staticky and cruel.

“FUUUUCK!” he yelled into silence and then grabbed a pillow so he could shout in it again as loud as he could. Regret immediately followed, but he probably deserved to suffer a bit more than usual after a vicious hangover and a dealmaker break up.

Obviously Alastor thought Anthony’s life was miserable. Even Anthony knew it was miserable, he was living it, and he got it. He even made a deal with a devil to make himself less miserable which only added to the pathetic part of the diagnose, so in the end there was nothing much left of him but a huge, pitiful mess.

And Alastor got dragged right into it – a failure after failure, just picking him up with all those fake smiles to keep the deal going because at the end the reward was guaranteed, but it was pretty apparent the equation was not adding up and the result could never be good enough for the demon’s standards.

He just wondered if there was a way to break the deal anyhow, from the demon’s side. There was no way Alastor was coming back after all that, and if he was by some miracle, then only to deliver a killing blow, collecting the soul at least and then leaving him to get eradicated in hell like any other lesser shade.

He managed to drag himself to the bathroom and sat on the toilet lid for 27 minutes before deciding to make himself throw up rather than wait if it would come by itself. It didn’t make him feel any better, sadly, so he just took a shower to get rid of all the sweat and guilt (sadly didn’t work for that one) under streams of water and remained there with head pressed against tiles in hope he would melt through the drain.

Would be honestly quite helpful.

“Anthony?”

He blinked. Did he just hear his name or…?

“Anthony, my good fellow, are you still alive?” Again.

That was Alastor‘s voice. Anthony stared at the door of the shower stand, afraid to even make a sound until he heard his name called once more and that couldn’t be his imagination anymore, right?

“…yeah?” he made himself talk but refused to step out.

“Good! You are still here,” Alastor’s voice was closer now, probably in the hallway. “I am taking your kitchen for now, but please do join me at your convenience!”

Happy, loud voice. The fake cheeriness he heard few times and learned how to recognize – he usually acted like that when he was mad at Anthony for needless flirting but refused to show it.

It made no sense. Why was he here?

The water started to run cold and Anthony gritted his teeth and turned it off, just to carefully step out, bundle up in a towel and added a fluffy bathrobe before cautiously leaving the bathroom. Jazz was playing through the radio in the kitchen and Alastor was humming along while the sound of cutting and simmering added to the ambience.

Was he cooking?

The human stopped near the entrance to the living room and took a deep breath. He wasn’t ready to face him just yet, he still felt like a raw bundle of nerves on two wobbly feet. It was ridiculous – Alastor didn’t exactly do anything wrong. He just stated how things were, Anthony hadn’t been told for the first or last time in his life for sure. He had no right to be mad about the truth.

It was just… such a bad timing. After having a bad day, after going through a depressive episode where the self-loathing starred in the main role, then get this thrown in his face like a hot potato just hurt. Rightfully. But still hurt.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” the staticky voice interrupted his thoughts and the tone was much less cheery now. It made his stomach drop and he unconsciously took a step back. There was a clink sound of a knife being put down and then steps leading towards him, which immediately made him panic and he shut the door to the living room with a loud slam.

The steps halted.

“Should I leave?” Came a question from the other side of the door, loud and clear and scary.

“I don’t know,” Anthony answered back, his hands shaking. It sucked. He should not be this way; he didn’t make a deal for feeling worse than on his normal bad days. He made a deal to be lied to, to be coddled, and then to die and suffer for being a coward, and that was it.

“I will if you want me to,” Alastor said quietly. “I am not here to torture you. Or make you feel bad.”

Too late, bucko.

“I crossed a line yesterday.” It sounded suspiciously like an apology, Anthony thought. “I apologize for saying what I said.”

“What, the truth?” Anthony snorted and leaned against the closed door, eyebrows knitted together unhappily. “Ya don’t need to worry about that one.”

“It upset you.”

“That’s what the truth does.”

“Yes, agreed,” there was a hint of guilt in Alastor’s voice, no matter how he tried to hide it with his radio nonsense. “I was upset too. But still… I should not have lashed out like that.”

Upset?

Anthony turned his head, partly facing the door. What was even Alastor upset about? He just suddenly got all staticky in there, just because Anthony asked… about his mum?

“Because I asked about your mum?” he tried and Alastor on the other side sighed.

“I am going to open the door now,” he stated instead, and Anthony immediately caught the handle in refusal with an immediate no. “Anthony.”

“I don’t get ya,” the human groaned, holding the door closed like it was a lifeline. “I just don’t get ya, why are ya even here? Why were ye so mad yesterday? For a while ya were the nicest person in the whole fuckin’ world and then ya kicked me when I was already on the fuckin’ ground, so why now? Why pretend yer a nice guy when ye don’t care?”

Silence.

“Just because I asked ‘bout her? Ya think it’s somethin’ I can hold against ya in hell or what?” He had no idea if Alastor was still even there. It was deadly silent on the other side, he probably just poofed out of thin air again rather than listen to this.

“No,” sounded behind him all of sudden and it made him curse loudly when he suddenly faced Alastor in his red shirt, with coat nowhere to be seen, his sleeves rolled up and his face not smiling at all. If anything, he actually looked quite hurt.

Fucking filthy lying bastard, that one. Actor worthy of a Golden Globe.

“That’s cheatin’,” Anthony scoffed but Alastor didn’t seem to mind it. He wasn’t immediately in his personal bubble, but he wasn’t far either and it made Anthony unable to collect his thoughts properly. All he wanted was to shout and maybe smack him a bit too. But the demon could bite his arms off, so he refrained from doing anything but glare.

“You seem to like my shadow much better,” Alastor said evenly.

Anthony didn’t get how that was relevant to anything.

“He likes to hug,” he said lamely.

“You like him because he hugs you?” Alastor’s expression morphed into a surprise and Anthony really didn’t get why was he asking about his shadow now of all times.

“Wha… who cares?” he stared at the demon, hating he felt cornered like an animal. “How’s yer shadow even relevant to this conversation?”

“I thought you were asking why I was upset,” Alastor looked away for a while, a strangely nervous gesture. “Therefore, I’m telling you.”

“Because I seem to like yer shadow better?” Anthony almost lost his jaw for how low it dropped and holy fucking shit, was Alastor fidgeting? Was he for real? Was it some refined plan for Anthony to drop his defences again? To act cute as fuck?

His fucking ears were droopy too, Anthony realized, his eyes glued to the top of the demon’s head. No. no no no. This couldn’t be real.

“Are you fuckin’ with me?”

“Since I made a deal with you,” Alastor ignored the question, but still avoided his eyes. “I felt like I lack complete control for some reason. It makes me uneasy when things do not work the way they are supposed to. The way I want them to.”

At that moment it finally hit him.

“You didn’t order yer shadow to come here even once,” Anthony stated, and the static crackled again until Alastor shook his head to get rid of it. Oh. He really didn’t like when things were out of his reach. And his shadow just fucking off to visit the human must have been one of them, especially yesterday.

“But… but you can’t blame me for that?” the human insisted, his eyes wide. “It’s not like I called him here or…”

“Of course not,” Alastor let out a sigh. “He just acts on his feelings.”

“Your shadow likes me?”

“You keep referring to him like he is a completely different person,” the demon crossed his arms on his chest. His forearms were scarred and for some reason showing that bit of skin now seemed like a big step for the man, though Anthony wouldn’t really call him vulnerable. Still scary as fuck.

Silence. Alastor tilted his head to the side, then pursed his lips and looked away again.

“He is not,” he added for good measure. “We are the same being.”

Anthony gaped.

“He has no filter,” he repeated, the conversation yesterday so clear even despite his drunken state, and the more he was staring at Alastor in front of him, the more the demon in red seemed to fluster.

“I, for one,” the demon finally spoke, “have tons of filters. We seem to disagree when it comes to you. On how to… handle you.”

Full body hug versus five foot rule is a pretty wide gap, Anthony mused, still gaping.

“I was unfair yesterday,” Alastor cleared his throat. “You are not… well, of course you are pretty miserable, honestly,” he looked him over, and yeah, okay, fair. He must have looked like complete shit with the hangover, now bundled up in fluffiness of the bathrobe. “There’s no denying it, and you are at least aware of it. But that was not supposed to make you feel bad. It is why we are going to fix this. Eventually.”

“Fix…?” Anthony repeated, not being able to get his expression under control.

“Yes. And then you will die and that would be it, but that is not important right now,” Alastor shook his head again, his voice softer. “Now… you are alive. And you need me.”

“Cocky, aren’t ya,” Anthony sniffed a little. “Mr. Control Freak.”

“At least I don drink tequila like a savage,” Alastor scoffed, the static dropping from his voice like a curtain. “No class at all, cher.”

“Bite me,” Anthony flipped him off and finally opened the door to the living room. Somehow it felt like a gateway where his insecurity had no way to pass and when he walked through, his chest was not so tight anymore.

Then he realized there was a dead deer in the living room, and he hurled out the rest of his stomach contents.

“Tu as fait un gâchis,” Alastor said and went back to the kitchen.

No. No nice things. Alastor was a fucking freak.

#hazbin hotel #radiodust #alastor x angel dust #au #the deal series #human!Angel Dust

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shadowthrone-ammanas · 4 years

Note

Prompt request: hatkid is upset about snatcher not wanting to play with her so the subconites,spiders and statues cheer her up with tickling and then snatcher joins in later

Thank you for the request! This doesn’t exactly follow the prompt in every way but I had this idea while writing and had to roll with it because I liked it.

Play

“I don’t have any more contracts for you kid. You got your reward now leave me be.” Seems like Snatcher was still salty after she’d beat him at his best despite the fact she’d provided him with a place to rest and recover afterwards, how rude.

“I know,” Hat Kid said. She was satisfied for now and very pleased with the shadow puppet costume. “I was thinking we could play a game instead.”

He frowned at her. “Why?”

“Just for fun. It can be any game you want to play too. You might have to teach me the rules but I don’t mind, I’m a fast learner.”

“No, go away.” He picked his book back up and lifted it in a way that made it clear he was blocking his line of sigh on her.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow then?”

He ignored her. Which wasn’t a ‘no’ per se. So…

She came back the next day and found him in one of his other reading spots. “Do you want to play now? I even brought a ball.” She held it up for him to see because it was the one with his face on it.

He scowled at it. “Real funny kid. Where did you get that?”

“The cruise ship.” She tossed it at him, hoping he’d at least whack it back. He didn’t, instead he let it hit the side of his face, making his scowl deepen to one of true anger. Whoops. “Sorry,” she said as she caught it on its bounce back.

“If you don’t leave within the next five seconds, I’m going to destroy your stupid ball.”

Hat Kid ran out of the hollow, clutching the ball to her chest. Rare was the day she came across a ball that bounced this good, she couldn’t let him destroy it.

Showing it to Snatcher maybe hadn’t even been a good idea though since he seemed to have been displeased by his likeness imprinted upon it. Why though? Hat Kid would’ve loved to find a ball with her face on it. Whatever either way Snatcher clearly didn’t want to play today.

He didn’t want to play the next day either. Or the day after that or the day after that. At which point Hat Kid decided to give up because he only got increasingly angry and annoyed when she asked. So let him be salty, she didn’t care. She didn’t need friends anyway. She did just fine without them.

“You okay kid?”

She looked up to see one of the Subconites approaching the bench she was sitting on. “Uh… yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Why?”

“You look sad. Is it because the Boss is being a jerk?”

“Hmm… yeah. I keep asking him to play with me because I’ve done all his contracts now but he won’t. He’s a big meanie and he reads too much.”

“Oh, he gets like that sometimes, especially when it’s been a while since he’s had a chance to eat. Which is kind of the case here but most of it I think is that he spent a lot of magic on the Death Wish contracts and fighting you. So it’s probably going to be a while before he’s in a good mood again. Try not to take it too personally, okay?”

Hat Kid shrugged. Taking it personally or not didn’t change the fact that she was bored and wanted someone to play with. The directors were both busy, Mu was guest starring on Cooking Cat’s show, she couldn’t bear to play with the Walrus Captain or his seals after what she’d done to his ship, and Snatcher was being a salty grouch because he apparently needed to eat something. Which left her with nothing to do but go back to the search for the last few Time Pieces which she wasn’t in the mood to do because as much as she wanted to go home she was also going to miss the friends she’d made here so she was delaying for a little bit. It’s why she’d wanted to play with Snatcher because she wasn’t sure how soon she’d get a chance to come visit again.

What about… “You,” she pointed at the Subconite. “Will you play with me?”

“Uh… me?” He glanced around as if hoping she was pointing at someone else. “I’m not really…”

“Of course you and you’re perfect.” He couldn’t escape her. “Let’s play.” She jumped up to her feet and grabbed his hand. It squeaked like a cartoon sound effect of a plush toy. She tightened her grip for a second, checking to see if… yep, it squeaked again. “Why does your hand make that sound when I squeeze it?”

“Uh… it just does.”

Well there was only one thing left to do now. She let go of his hand to poke his shoulder instead, getting another squeak. She then poked his chest, getting yet another squeak. Poking his middle got a laugh and a squeak.

“You’re ticklish?” she asked, unable to hold back a mischievous grin. “And squeaky?”

“No, I’m…” he cut off as she poked him again and then again. It wasn’t long before she had him doubled over on the ground giggling while she poked and tickled him, getting cute squeaks out of it as well. Honestly, because of what she knew about the Subconites’ past, it was nice to see one so happy for a change. She would have to find out if they all squeaked though or if it was just this one.

***

When Snatcher teleported into Subcon Village to check on them – something he did fairly regularly mostly due to years upon years of it being a habit – he was greeted by chaos. Hat Kid was chasing a group of Subconites around while some other stood by and watched. Overall, almost everyone was out of their homes, something that happened most often because something bad was happening.

Snatcher swooped in and grabbed Hat Kid by the cloak. He lifted her up and to hold in front of his face. “Are you terrorizing my minions? Because if you are…”

“I’m not,” she said with a laugh, unintimidated as always. “I’m playing with them you silly noodle. I’m trying to find the ones who squeaky and/or ticklish. So far, I’ve found three squeaky one and like ten ticklish ones.”

“Then… why are you chasing them?”

“It’s more fun that way.”

Snatcher glanced down at the Subconites. They hadn’t scattered like they would’ve if she was truly terrorizing them or causing some real problem. Instead they’d gathered closer to watch his interaction with her. Meaning they were safe. Meaning he could get annoyed with her for calling him a ‘silly noodle’. But…

“Why did you make some of them squeaky though?” Hat Kid asked before he could bring it up.

Because some of them wanted and asked to be made squeaky. “That’s none of your business.” And he might as well just drop it and let it go, he wasn’t in the mood for this. “But now, if you aren’t hurting them, then I suppose I can allow you to continue whatever stupid game you’re playing.” He was tempted to drop her but didn’t and lowered her safely to the ground instead.

“You want to play with us?” She looked up at him again.

“Hmmm… maybe later.” He did want to stay and watch hidden in the shadows though because the Subconites didn’t play very often anymore. All of them coming out to do so was even rarer these days. It was nice seeing them happy for a change. So… maybe later he’d teach Hat Kid how to a play board or two and maybe they could hold another game night here in the village. It had been a while since they’d had one.

“Okay. I’ll hold you to that.” Hat Kid gave him one last bright smile that contrasted with his not bright mood before running off after the Subconites again.

For this drabble event.

#My Writing #Ahit #A hat in time #snatcher & hat kid #hat kid and the Subconites #Fluff #drabble event

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our-heroes-rise · 5 years

Note

Maybe some Todoroki headcannons for falling in love with young s/o and how he tries to woo her?

sure thing bb. since you weren’t too specific with your request, i took a few creative liberties. and, maybe, might have strayed a bit from the prompt…? but i hope you like it! this was also another one that i had SO much fun writing, and, honestly, might write my next fic on this au, haha. *whispers* oh, and please forgive me for the terribly long wait.

(they’re both over the age of 18 to make my life a little easier)

———————————————————————

Pro-Hero Todoroki:

Shoto meets you during an evacuation mission. In the aftermath of a terrible earthquake, he finds you struggling to lift a fallen support beam off of your unconscious friend’s leg, crying for help. Honestly, he hardly pays any attention to you, he’s in full Pro mode and only calmly asks you a few evaluating questions of your friend’s current state before he sets into action, firmly ordering you to evacuate with everyone else. The job is quick and he has your friend’s leg free in less than a minute, handing them off to another Pro while he goes to respond to another cry for help.

And he doesn’t think of you at all until almost a month after the incident. At just the age of twenty-one, he leads a very busy life, already ranked as number ten in the nation and number seventeen worldwide. He’s saved a lot of people and seen millions of faces, you can’t blame him for letting one slip his mind.

It’s one of his rare days off and he decides to meet up with Yaoyorozu for coffee before she leaves for an intel mission in Europe. The cafe isn’t anything fancy, a small low-profile place in downtown Hosu where he knows they’ll be capable of having a peaceful meal to catch up. But there’s something about the barista that takes his order that seems oddly… Familiar, and he can’t for the life of him place what it is.

He’s about to give up trying to figure it out when you approach the table he and Yaoyorozu are sharing.

When you speak your voice is soft and your gaze apprehensive, cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink that has his heart fluttering in a way that’s new and confusing to him. “I-I - uh - I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you two, but I just wanted to thank you, Sh-Shoto, sir, for saving my friend a while back. I’m sure you don’t remember, but you freed my friend’s leg during that earthquake a couple weeks back, a-and I just thought I should thank you for that since they never got the chance to.”

She called me sir.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” he says, mind drawing to a brief stall as he takes you in for maybe a moment longer than he should. He’s received many thank you’s from fans and people he’s saved before, that isn’t what currently has his tongue it’s just - had you always been this pretty? “I thought I recognized you earlier. I’m - I’m glad that I was able to help you and your friend, is their leg alright?”

And that interaction is just the first (or second, really) of many more that follow.

Shoto visits the cafe more frequently now. It still isn’t often, considering his hectic schedule hardly allows enough time for him to sleep and eat on a regular basis, but whenever he gets the chance he goes to that small cozy cafe in downtown Hosu. Because the coffee is good, he tells himself the first few times he goes, even though he spends most of his time sitting at the breakfast bar doing his best to strike up a conversation with you.

Because the barista is beautiful, he finally admits to himself as he sets eyes on you for the umpteenth time during his too-far-to-count-anymore visit.

Shoto is still very much the emotionally clueless boy he was in high school and although he understands his attraction towards you, that doesn’t mean he knows exactly how to go about it. So, for a while, he simply makes it his goal to learn everything he can about you through his visits.

And that goal doesn’t really change when he figures out you’re a nineteen-year-old college student. Sure as hell makes him question his decision for a second, but he ultimately decides that your age had nothing to do with his judgment of your character. Honestly, the fact that you hadn’t ratted him out to the press was enough to tell him you were more than just trustworthy. He still loved talking with you, listening to you go on about what you wanted to do with your life, learning about your passions, your likes and dislikes.

However, it is one of the things that makes him hesitate in asking for your number. He didn’t want you to think he was weird and scare you away or anything. But when he hears he’s going to be leaving the country for a couple of weeks, unable to see you at all, he forces himself to ask during his last visit to the cafe.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him, a small frown pulling at the corner of your lips, and his chest grows cold. He opens his mouth to mumble out an apology when your face breaks into a shit-eating grin, “I wouldn’t want to be a distraction to the great Shoto Todoroki while he’s on the job. Not trying to be blamed as the reason the world’s precious Icyhot hero never came back home.”

He doesn’t feel much pressure to act older around you, since, for the most part, you two seem to share the same maturity level. You joke around a lot more than he does but he’s decided that has more to do with you not your age. He would be lying if he said he disliked that part of you though. (He loves it.)

Shoto coughs half a laugh and rolls his eyes, “I think I’m more than capable of handling myself at this point. You don’t have to worry about me, especially not when - uh, nevermind, sorry,”

“No, what were you going to say? Especially not when what? You can’t just leave me on a cliffhanger like that!”

He casts a half-hearted glare at you over the lid of his coffee as he takes a long sip, trying to hide his flushed cheeks. “Especially not when I have a reason to come back.” It’s muttered in a low breath, but you still manage to hear it all.

And that’s all it takes for you to scribble down your number on a napkin and shove it into his hand, flushed cheeks puffed out in a pout, mumbling something about how he should warn you before saying stuff like that.

Your relationship progresses slowly, but he admits that he has more to do with you this time than his busy schedule. He just wants to take it slow, he’s still unsure of many things and he understands how different the lives that you lead are. Also, that nagging worrisome feeling that he’s going to scare you away if he moves too quickly is still there, yet he’s still scared you’ll lose interest in him. That you’ll turn him down because you’ve found someone who’s your age with more time to give to you, so he does everything he can to keep you interested and to show that he cares without being too forward about it.

Shoto makes it a point to text you at least once a day to check in on you during his breaks at work and his heart sputters like a choking car engine whenever he sees your name flash across his screen.

He tries his hardest to facetime with you too, that way he can see your face and hear your voice. However, most times it’s really late at night and feels bad for keeping you up when he knows you have school in the morning. Oddly enough though, it’s also when you have your deepest conversations. He’s not sure what it is about the night, but he finds himself opening up to you more, telling you things that he hasn’t told most people he’s close with. And it scares him a little.

That is until one certain late night facetime while he’s away in another country on a mission that has his heart doing a complete 360.

“You’re such a good guy, Shoto. A good hero, not just a good guy. I wish you hadn’t had to endure so much when you were younger, but, I guess, that’s what makes you such a strong and passionate hero. This world is lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have you - uh - In my life, I mean! I-I know we’re not together or anything but - uh - I-It’s just, well, it’s crazy to think that out of all the people you’ve met, that you decided to keep me close to you. And even though you’re only, like, three years older than me, you don’t make it feel that way. I-I mean you make me feel comfortable and I enjoy talking to you, and I appreciate it a lot, really, I do. And I cherish our relationship, w-where-wherever it goes. Always.”

Shoto doesn’t know what to say. You’ve snatched the breath from his lungs and all he can do is stare at you with the most adorably love-stricken expression on his face.

You look away from the phone half a second later, pretending to find something in your lap, that’s out of sight, extremely interesting, but he can still see the red that’s stained your cheeks. At that moment, he wishes with every fiber of his being that he could reach through the phone and kiss you. That he could hold you close and confess every love written thought that’s running through his head because, shit, he hadn’t realized how hard he had fallen for you until now.

“Th-Thank you, Y/n, you don’t know how much that means to me.” He takes a moment to compose himself as you give him a small nod, still embarrassed apparently about what you said. That doesn’t deter him though, in fact, it drives him forward towards his next few words even faster. “When I get home,” he starts again, normally cool voice shaky with apprehension, “will you have dinner with me?”

“You mean, l-like a date?”

Shoto sucks in a deep breath before he nods, “Yes, a date.” He adds quickly, “If that’s alright.”

You look back at the phone looking utterly relieved and taken aback and he’s once again struck with the overwhelming want to kiss you. “Y-yes.” Your grin nearly blinds him. “Yes, Shoto, I would love to have dinner with you.”

Oh, do the tabloids have a field day with that headline. “Pro-Hero Shoto Spotted At Dinner With Young College Student; Should We Be Concerned?” “Shoto’s First Date? She’s How Old?!” “Pro-Hero Shoto Has Discovered His Type”

You especially find the tabloids amusing, taking to occasionally calling him “old man” or “old timer” as a joke. He pretends to be annoyed by it, but you know he thinks its just as funny as you do. Leave it to the press to blow a three year age difference way out of proportion. It’s fine by the both of you though because you have each other, and you both know the true nature of your relationship, which is all that matters.

———————————————————————

✨ written 10/12/19 ✨

#shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki imagines #todoroki headcanons #bnha #mha #bnha headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha scenarios #shoto todoroki bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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mssr-moony-esq · 3 years

Photo

Remus J. Lupin ~ A Christmas Story in Three Acts

Act I

Christmas Eve - 2001

He is six years old and everything hurts. It's the day after the first full moon after his father left, and it's been the worst one yet. The scar across his nose that becomes the most recognizable aspect of his body is fresh and new, loaded up with a ton of muggle antiseptic and the smell is stinging his nose. Mum is in the kitchen and she keeps crying. Remus does not. He's a big boy and daddy is gone so he can't cry. He has to be strong. Mum wants that from him.

Remus sits by the Christmas tree and fiddles with the lights strung across it and looks down. He sees the meager collection of presents under the tree and scowls when he see the one marked "Daddy" in his uneven letters. It's a book and he picked it out himself, with Mum at the bookshop. It's Call of the Wild and Remus had liked the dogs on the front cover. He liked the idea of a story about sled dogs, he likes them being free in the wild. It calls to something new inside of him. He doesn't know enough to feel bad about being a werewolf, and maybe if his dad can read a nice book about sort of wolves he'll stop being sad all the time.

But it's pointless now, his father is gone and mum won't stop crying and every part of his body hurts and hurts and hurts. Remus picks up the package and and tosses it into the fireplace with a kind of recklessness that he would only very rarely display. It's still burning when his mum comes back into the room with a fakely cheery "Happy Christmas" and holding a plate of cookies and hot chocolate. Remus is six but he knows how to lie already and he smiles at her and listens to the crackle of burning paper behind him.

Act II

Christmas Day- 2008

He is thirteen years old and he's at Hogwarts for Christmas. The moon had fallen on Christmas Eve exactly this year, and there was no way he could have gone home, even if his mum was desperate to have him. It was two year away from knowing exactly why, his mum didn't want him to grow up quite that fast, regardless of the fact that he already was quite grown up. He might be more or less alone on Christmas, but he doesn't mind, so much. Hogwarts feels more like home than any other home ever has. He has friends here, people that make an effort to understand him, that care about him. They may be home with thier families, but they love him anyway, he knows because they send him letters and gifts. It's new. Remus feels like it will never stop being new.

Like always, Madam Pomfrey is there when he wakes up, standing at the door of the shack with her medical bag and a robe. Today she's wearing a little Santa hat and smiles brightly at him, like he's not a naked, gangly teenager with blood dripping down into his eyes and a gash torn deep into the flesh of his right thigh. "Happy Christmas, darling," she says brightly and wraps him up. She chatters on while she tends to the worst of his wounds talking about how cheery the castle looks this morning and the fine feast waiting. When Remus doesn't respond, she falls silent and and just hums under her breath, some half remembered Christmas carol from before life went upside down.

He doesn't know he's crying until Madam Pomfrey wraps him up into a tight hug and runs her fingers gently over her hair. "No, no I'm fine," he says a few moments later, and it's true. He's just realized that he'd never felt more accepted, more himself in his entire life. There is no judgement, there is no hiding, not in this moment, not with his friends and when he goes back into the castle there will be medicine for the pain and there will be meals and there will be owls from his friends and it will be the best Christmas yet.

{ Madam Pomfrey stays the whole day with him. First it's just medicine and breakfast, and then it's her singing softly while he plays Christmas tunes on the violin. She watches him open his Christmas letters and presents, fondly and easily, with none of the caged anxiety his mother always watched him with. Later, they have spiced hot cider and and Remus tells her secrets that he always wanted to but never felt like he could tell her mother, fragile as she was. He cries again, several times, but when he's tucked in at the end of the day, he has a smile on his face. It was a good day. }

Act III

Christmas Night - 2015

He is twenty years old. Mum had a bad reaction to the current course of chemo overnight and she had to be admitted. The hospital is all fake cheer and brightly painted horror. The nurse gives his mother another dose of the Zofran, and she stops vomiting a few minutes later. She looks pale and wan though, and the nurse says its because she's dehydrated and that's what the fluids are for. Remus knows. It's not magical medicine, but he still knows. He did the research, he knows how it works. He used magic to look into his mother's chart earlier, the things he wasn't supposed to see. He knows her white blood cell count is low, too low. They will give her CSFs for that. Her red blood cell count is low too, and soon they will be hanging bags of blood and plasma and platelets so she doesn't bleed out the new blood they'll be pumping into her. He knows that every progress note the doctor writes ends with PROGNOSIS POOR. Remus has met with a Dr. Golden who works for the palliative care department and he talks about quality of life and pain control and time frames with and without treatment. He is twenty years old and he is an adult, but this feels too much for him, to be asked to make decisions for his mother who can't do it herself because the metastasis and the drugs make her hazy and forgetful and not herself.

She goes to sleep around ten pm and Remus knows he should stay with her, but he also can't. He feels like his skin is too tight and it'll start spilling out his insides on to the cold white tile.

So he leaves. He goes to James and Lily's first. He talks to Lily in halted tones about what he knows, what he fears, how impossible it is for him to know what to do. He doesn't cry then, but his fingers tremble and his voice feels like cut glass crawling out of his throat. Lily wants him to stay and he almost does, but their house is almost too bright and too happy and he loves them so, but he can't take it anymore, he can't be a burden on a happy day for them.

He goes to Sirius then, wanders outside his window and refuses to say anything until he's spotted because of course he is, who paces back and forth in front of someone's window like that in the middle of the night? Remus doesn't tell Sirius anything at all. He sits down on the curb out front and Sirius sits next to him. Eventually Remus pulls out a cigarette and hardly smokes it, watching the ash burn down to his fingers. At some point he leans his head on Sirius's shoulder. It's everything and not enough all at once.

He leaves when dawn starts to light the sky, and everything cuts at him like knives, the cold that's seeped down into his bones, the ache of his heart that feel fractured. He goes back to the rundown cottage he and his mother share, and knows then on some level that it will be his alone soon. Five years they say, five years at the most and they will be painful they will be hard. One year without treatment, but kinder and maybe Remus is a monster, but he want's everything done, he can't lose her too not now. Not ever, but especially not now. But nothing will change the fact that she's going to die. And soon, sooner or later.

He thinks about screaming, watching the snow melt off the windows from the kitchen sink. But then he remembers Lily and the soft way her hand clutched his, and James with his awkward but endearing concern watching from the doorway, knowing well enough not to intrude on the world that Remus and Lily could so often create around themselves. He remembers Sirius who just lets him exist in the quiet fucked up way that he is, even though it probably killed him not to try and fix it.

It occurs to him that if (when) his mother dies he won't actually be alone. It's a strange thing, a strange gift as Christmas Day faded into the odd time after Christmas and before the beginning of the New Year. He has people. He has family. It's something he probably ought to have known already, but this is honestly the first time it's occurred to him.

He's twenty years old, and he is old and young and alone and more connected than he has ever been in his life. It's everything and he looks out at the snow falling around him and smiles through tears.

#~i long for the raised voice the howl of rage or love~remus lupin #headcanon #luxrpchristmas

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plutodexay · 4 years

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For the first time in years (6)

Chapter 6, (What next) Ao3 (1796 words)

It took him over a week to owl me. With anybody else this wouldn’t have been that big of a deal, but this is Draco Malfoy. The guy who would throw out his robes if so much as one stitch came loose. Last time he owled me it took 8 hours, maybe even shorter because I woke up with his owl already waiting for me.

I was terrified that he wasn’t going to owl me. We didn’t exactly leave off on the best note. So maybe he was embarrassed he cried in front of me? Or that he opened up to me? Relatively there could've been hundreds of reasons as to why it took him so long. Hell, maybe he just wanted to keep me on edge, another one of his tricks. I can’t imagine he’d let those go as easily, it was almost like the twins giving up pranking.

…

The owl came at 10pm, on a friday night, while I was entertaining friends. About anyone you’d expect was there. The twins had brought a whole trunk full of prototypes to hopefully only show people and not actively use in my house. Now that I think about it, I think they closed the trunk a lot easier at the end of the night then earlier in the evening.

Ron had showed up early, bringing twenty times more candy than I needed him to. I don’t really know why, but he was convinced that everyone that would be attending would need two bowls of candy to themselves. Which goes to show why I’m the one always hosting the get togethers. My poor coffee table had at least ten bowls on it alone, that left hardly any room for people to actually put their drinks on the damn thing.

Neville came in shortly after, who surprisingly was only fifteen minutes early as opposed to his usual thirty. He’d walked in apologizing for being late, of course it was only late on his terms. Ron acted surprised and accused him of forgetting about us, he even did this whole monologue about lost friendship as he was putting his candy into all my clean bowls. He told us matter of factly he’d been late because he’d been on a walk with the Ravenclaw he’d been talking too and he’d simply lost track of time. Next thing I know there's candy on my floor and Ron is standing right infront of him trying to pry the details out of him.

Seamus and Dean showed up about ten minutes later, Ron making me go answer the door while I was still cleaning up his candy on my own floor. They very quickly went straight to the muggle recliner beside my couch, not even a minute into being here and they’d managed to find one chair to “share”. They always do, sit in the same chair that is. They’ve done it ever since school, even when there was more space they were always practically on top of one another. Most of their night was spent laughing at me and whispering to each other, so really it was just like any other night.

Hermione was right behind them, seemingly on an important phone call with someone in the ministry. I’ll always be grateful she convinced Kingsley to allow muggle technology into the ministry. Ya know? Cause what else would allow my friend to work 24/7 and ignore me for an hour at my own event? Definitely one of her better achievements.

Luna had shown up late, mumbling something about her earrings not wanting to work, still haven’t got the slightest clue what she meant by that seeing as she was wearing earrings. She’d brought Ginny with her, who was also mumbling about quidditch. The both of them and their constant mumbling, if you;d ask them to elaborate they’d act as if they didn’t say anything. They had taken up comfort on the stairs, then the floor, then the guest room, and quite honestly the farthest they could get from the twins that my house would allow. Over the years Ginny slowly started getting annoyed by their pranks, preferring to be able to ride her broom during practice than have it explode ink into her face the moment she got off the ground. I believe she regrets telling them that she’d test some of their products, none of them specified when and where. Half way through the night Luna had fallen asleep on Ginny so Hermione had to help keep the twins away, one of the few things she can’t really do.

…

Time had seemingly stopped when that owl came. It was like everyone had noticed the random owl at my window, at the exact same time. The owl was almost as composed as Draco, it just waited there, as if it had all the time in the world.

The room had gone quiet, nobody really knowing who’s owl it was, or why I was getting an owl this late in the evening. It felt like hours before I slowly walked over to the window. The owl was simply waiting for me to grab the letter. Moments after doing so it found its way to Hedwig's treats.

I unraveled the parchment slower than I walked over here.

Dear Harry,

I’m sorry this letter was later than the last, I’m afraid I was called away on business shortly after our walk. You’d be shocked how quickly you must move in the potions business. I do hope this finds you at a somewhat reasonable hour, but knowing my owl I will be sorely mistaken. Acts like a child really, does what he wants when he wants without my supervision.

Sadly it will be a few more days before I can return to London. This business truly takes a lot of attention, as annoying as it is.

If it is all the same to you, I would truly enjoy ‘hanging out’ once again. This time rather, how about you pick the time and place? Maybe then you wouldn’t fumble your words as much.

I’ll be awaiting a letter back, but please let my owl rest for a bit before doing so. If not he’ll tear up the parchment the moment you give it to him.

Best regards,

Draco Malfoy.

“Well who’s it from?” Shouted Ron from his seat on the floor. Everyone humming in agreement.

“Draco Malfoy.” Gasps came from all around the room. Murmurs from Ginny barely resonated in my head. The sheer fact that he actually wrote me all I could think of. His reasoning makes much more sense than ignoring me. He’s the one who started all of this, he’s the one who wanted this, right?

“What in the hell is Draco Malfoy owling you for?” Seamus asked, way too loudly. I could feel everyone staring at me. There eyes not moving as I slowly turn around, ready to face the wrath of the age old Gryfindor vs Slytherin rivalry. Just because he helped us doesn’t mean everyone forgave him.

Just as I go to speak, Neville does it for me.

“They’ve been talking recently.”He paused, smiling at me before he continued. “Draco came to him and asked for a second chance, and unlike most of us in the room, Harry is giving him that opportunity.”

“But why?” Dean asked, almost sounding annoyed.

“Why not?” Ginny cut him off.

Nobody said anything. Everyone was conflicted. Some of us managed to forgive people quicker than others. Death eaters and the War were never really brought up anymore, so I can imagine some people weren’t particularly happy with tonight's events.

“I think it's quite mature of Harry, I always thought they’d have been a very good pair.” Luna said out of the blue. Her words seemingly shut everyone up. Mere seconds later everyone had gone back to what they were doing beforehand.

Walking back into my kitchen, Ron and Neville followed.

“So?” Ron said, sitting in the chair I was going to sit, grabbing a drink off the counter and taking a sip.

“So what?”

“What did he say?” Neville asked, leaning against the wall.

“Does it really matter?”

“Does it really matter?” Ron said, obviously mocking me. He jumps out of his seat to stand right in front of me, his drink disregarded. “Of course it matters!”

“We’ve been waiting just as long as you, we want to know what he has to say for himself.” Neville was now in the seat Ron was. Looking between Ron and I before Ron seemingly continued his thought.

“We need to know his excuse for leaving us on edge!” He said exasperated, acting as if he might faint. “How dare he leave us waiting this long for a letter!” Nevilles laughter could be heard all throughout the kitchen. Ron slowly joined him. Shortly all of us were laughing at ourselves, the whole situation seeming ridiculous.

Managing to catch my breath, I answer.

“He got called away for work, apparently the potions business is very demanding.” Both of them looked at me, Neville still catching his breath before grabbing a drink. Ron nodded, before speaking up.

“Mione told me there was a huge potions raid a few nights ago in France, both their and our ministries are freaking out. If anything that’s probably why he got called away.” It’d make sense, some potion ingredients are so rare that the ministry will launch undercover missions to find them if they so much get out of place.

“Did she tell you what was stolen?” Neville asked.

“No, you know how she is with that stuff.”

“Well I guess you can ask Draco next time then?” They were both looking at me.

“I guess, I don’t know if he’ll tell me.”

“Worth a shot” Ron laughed, patting my back before walking back into the main area. Neville getting up too.

“I hate to leave, but I’ve got to go. She invited me to a muggle movie and I don’t want to be late.” So the movie probably started in three hours then.

“It’s alright.” I tell him, patting his shoulder before walking him to the door. “I’m glad you guys are getting along, you seem to really like her.”

“Yeah it’s going great.” We're standing in front of the door now, I open it for him and he walks out half way before turning around. “Make sure you write him back before you sleep, otherwise you’ll forget.” He says before walking down the street.

Shit. Now, how does one respond to Draco Malfoy.

#for the first time in years #writing #drarry #drarry fandom #drarry writing #Harry Potter #harry x draco #harry/draco #harry and draco #drarry fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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itszephoria · 3 years

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Saw this pop up and your followers ask you which ones they’re interested in. But people don’t really ask much when I post or they don’t ask the ones that might make you feel uncomfortable. And well, honestly I’m so bored that I’ve decided to break all the damn rules and just answer all the questions because I can. *shock horror*

So information dump on the ‘Be nosy’ that popped up in my feed today. If you’re interested.

Be nosy

1. What’s your sexual orientation?

Straight. But maybe for the right woman I could sway but wouldn’t go so far as to call myself bi or bi-curious though.

2. What are you obsessed with right now?

Obsessively obsessing about my health and how to get well and failing it all. Oh and anime movies on Netflix.

3. Ever done any drugs?

I do drugs everyday. But I assume this is referring to illegal. No and was strictly no up until recently. I now take marijuana oil on a regular basis for pain management. Also being stoned/high is not pleasant and I don’t understand why people would enjoy that as a leisurely pastime.

4. What piercings do you want?

I want to get my ears pierced again. Holes have closed up, but currently due to my health that’s not possible. I can’t even enjoy clipons :(

5. How many people have you kissed?

The massive number of 5.

6. Describe your dream home.

It’s tiny in the sense it has all the space I need. A cosy tiny-like home. But not one on wheels, fixed to the ground. And it would be made of all natural materials, stone and wood. It would be unique and resemble something out of a fairy tale. It would sit a beautiful clearing with only nature to view in the distance and all the animals and wildlife would stay well away because I’m pretty much terrified of all it,

7. Who are you jealous of?

Healthy, painfree people. I am jealous of past me who didn’t realise how lucky she was and miss her.

8. What’s your favorite show to binge?

I don’t binge any show on repeat. I’d rather look for a new show to watch or enjoy, there are so many. The last shows I binged in two days was Queen’s Gambit and Emily in Paris.

9. Do you watch porn?

Yep. But struggle with it because it’s overdramatic, unrealistic and would kill or someone to make porn with a decent storyline with people that can act.

I prefer to read it if I’m honest or maybe just write it for myself.

10. Do you have a secret sideblog?

Sort of? More like my other one I used I was known for all my slash writings in F1. But now I just hang out here.

11. If you could teleport anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?

No where. The world is riddled with co-vid and well, I’m probably in one of the safest countries and I’m at risk of death should I catch it. So I’ll stay here in my safe bubble.

12. What’s one of your fantasies?

I wake up tomorrow and I’m not me. I wake up and I can take a deep breath without gasping for air, I wake up in no pain, I wake up and my body isn’t terribly scared, I wake up and can have a ‘normal’ life.

13. Do you have/would you get your nipples pierced?

Nope and no desire too. Won’t that just hurt?

14. How would you spend a million dollars?

I’d by that dream house I described, set everything up to be self sufficient. Pay and travel to try every cure available for my diseases. And then bank the rest and live off interest. Or maybe donate it. I don’t want money and I don’t really want a lot of things.

15. Are you in a relationship?

Yep and it’s a struggle and am constantly fighting to prove it’s worth continuing. Oh and that’s a relationship with myself.

16. Do you follow porn blogs?

No.

17. Are you angry with anyone right now?

No, I suppose it’s more disappointed and let down by people more than angry. I’m working everyday on letting it go but it’s not easy.

18. What tattoos do you want?

I have always wanted one, but have never found something that I really loved and haven’t been imaginative enough to create something unique. The older I get though, I’m not sure I want one. I did for the longest time though think about getting a Ferrari tattooed on my inner wrist, but pleased I never did that. I don’t love the sport or Ferrari enough anymore to want a permanent reminder of that.

19. If you could change your name, would you? What would you change it to?

I am changing name actually. Hoping to action that in the next two weeks. I would have done it earlier but they closed the borders. I have a dutch sir name that has two words. It confuses every one, systems don’t get it, it has caused issues with plane tickets. And well I’ve decided no more and am dumping a portion of it.

20. What is something you’re obsessed with?

This is a duplicate. Skipping.

21. Describe your best friend.

When you meet her for the first time she can be a little crazy and wild, and she kind of scared at me first because she’s so unlike me. But as you got to know her, the *real* her she doesn’t let people see, you realise how kind and soft she is, and she’s the most empathic person I have known. She gives so much of herself to everyone, thinks so little of herself and her needs because she’s one of the most selfless people I know. I love her more than most of my family and would do anything for her.

22. Tag someone you think is hot.

Is this followers? Uh most I don’t know what they look like? I assume they’re all hot!

23. Who are five of your favorite bands/musical artists?

Don’t have any really. My music is varied and is based on my mood and really changes around. And with most bands, I generally lean towards one or two songs. This is one of those questions I really struggle with whenever I see it. Will say however, have been enjoying The Beatles recently and a bit of old school stuff.

24. What are three places you want to travel?

Japan. Norway. Canada.

25. Describe your perfect Friday night.

Generally hanging out with people I like. Enjoying a good wine, some cheese, either playing some board game or dungeons and dragons, or watching a really good movie. Good company makes any night a good night.

26. What’s your favorite season?

Autumn. One because I think it’s neglected as a choice and every season should be loved, and two because I love the colours of autumn and the colours associated with autumn.

27. What’s your pet peeve?

I’m sure I have a heap of them, but currently it’s people that have an issue with you and instead of being an adult and talking to you about them choose to silence and blank you. I’m so tired of it, I’ve quit being peacemaker in those situations, those people are no longer worthy in my book.

28. Who is the funniest person you know?

Uh... I don’t think anyone I know is super funny. Friends and family all have a good sense of humor. But out of my circle of life people I’m always told I’m the funny one, which I find the biggest joke ever.

29. What’s the most overrated movie?

Can not think of anything off the top of my head. I will say if I think a movie is getting too much hype I refuse to watch it, whether all the reviews are raving or not. It’s why I didn’t watch Harry Potter for like ten years or any of the new Star Wars movies. I just refuse to be apart of all the hype and jump on bandwagons.

30. Tag someone you want to talk to but have been too shy to message.

I’d love to talk to everyone. I’m shy to start any conversations to be honest and I think all the people I talk to regularly were the first to message me, and I love them for it.

31. Do you like paper books or ebooks better?

100% love an old fashioned paper book. The texture of the paper. The smell of a book. That being said, I don’t think I’ve picked up a proper book to read in years. I live in fan fiction more than anything or am busy writing myself.

32. If you could live in a fictional world, what world would you pick?

Any of the disney worlds, anything from the past, or verging on fantasy like. I want a simpler time not full of technology which I grow to hate more each day. The older I get the more I’m pretty sure I’ve been born in the wrong decade.

33. If money was no object, what would your wardrobe be like?

I’d build the perfect wardrobe capsule. Everything would be of high quality, not necessarily brand name and all the clothes would be sourced from ethical businesses or be handmade.

I like classic pieces, love the fashion of the 50′s and 60s and while stylish it would be comfortable to wear and everything could be worn in public (sorry comfy tracky pants).

34. What’s your coffee order?

There ain’t no coffee order. I don’t drink it. Sorry @leoni-speedyf1 I know how addicted you are to it, happy to buy you anything you like though :P

35. Do you have a crush on anyone?

In real life? No one.

36. Do you still have feelings for any of your exes?

Not romantic. I have feelings in that I hope they’re doing well, achieving what they want and they’re all happy. I didn’t have any ‘bad’ breakups and all my relationships ended very amicably.

37. Have any tattoos?

No. See above for more on this.

38. Do you drink?

Rarely. Can’t with medication and condition. But on occasion I do enjoy a good glass of red. Pinot Noir is my preference.

39. Are you a virgin?

Nope.

40. Do you have a crush on any of your mutuals?

Not in a romantic way? The ones I talk to regularly I love immensely though.

41. How many followers do you have?

42. Describe the hottest person you know.

Uh all the men I know I am not attracted to. Probably a good thing as they’re either family or partnered with a friend or family member.

43. What’s your guilty pleasure?

Can’t think of anything. I try not to feel guilt for anything I enjoy to be honest, whether it’s food or an activity. Life is too short for that.

44. Do you read erotica?

Yep. Even write it.

45. What’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?

It was a few years back. I met this guy online and we went to the city and spent most of that time just strolling next to the river for our first meet up. Why was it the worst date ever? Well it wasn’t the location that’s for sure.

The guy had two kids, and I’m a firm believer all parents have favourites, though I have yet to meet a parent that will voice that aloud. This guy, had no qualms with telling me about this favourite kid, and that wouldn’t be a problem if didn’t spend just as much putting down his younger son. It kind of left me reeling and wondering how his son felt if his dad didn’t hide just how much he didn’t like him as a person. The kid was four and the reason his dad didn’t like him was because he didn’t like bikes.

And so the guy was a bmx rider so he spent the rest of the time on our walk just pointing out all the tricks he could do. He didn’t ask about me, only talked about himself. It was also lunch time and assumed we would get something to eat together, but nope, no food was offered. And when I suggested to get something to drink because it was so hot and we’d been out in the sun for like an hour, he just took me to a subway and told me to get a drink and waved me to the line. No offer to join me, no offer to pay (which doesn’t bother me btw, but this was capping off a terrible day), no offer to get food.

I was so happy to get out of there. Didn’t speak to him again once I had left.

46. How many people do you follow?

I currently follow 59 people. I don’t follow anyone that creates drama, and try and follow only people that post about F1 as that’s all I use tumblr for now.

47. If you could marry any celebrity, who would you pick?

Either Sebastian Vettel or Ryan Reynolds. Both are married though, so I don’t think that’s going to turn into a reality anytime soon.

48. Describe your ideal partner.

I want someone that shares the same core values as me. Doesn’t want kids, isn’t super religious (grew up in a cult like religion so I avoid it now), is on the minimalist side and isn’t someone that needs new things things all the time or is desperate to replace something the moment they deem it out of date. Someone that doesn’t live their life on social media. Someone that prefers simple things, someone who is kind and giving, and someone that truly loves me - and it’s the last part that I struggle with finding more than anything with all the guys I have dated.

I am currently not looking for a partner, I am not in a place for a relationship and am fully focused on myself. And I am very content with that decision.

49. Who do you text the most?

Currently my bestie.

50. What’s your favorite kind of weather?

Clear blue skies and a warm day to enjoy the sun. But there are times when I simply love the rain, hearing it on the room, watching it fall endlessly and knowing that everything will be green from it.

#all about me #long read #tried to be open and honest

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