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collectivecloseness · 1 year

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what’s Steve like when you accidentally get a bit of an injury?

(Long post so under cut)

Steve’s mama bear mode gets activated. He worries, but like he always is when he’s protecting his friends, or you guys are fighting upside down monsters, he’s remaining controlled enough to get what needs to be done, done.

“No, no no babe- BABE! Hold my shoulder, please, come on.” Steve tries to get you by his side without sounding like he was snapping. You bumped your head after falling because Robin was chasing you around with a worm on a stick. A bit childish some could argue, but you two were having fun, well, Robin more than you. Even Steve was laughing, while chiding Robin for being stupid, until you tripped over your leg, and a THWAP sound made everyone’s heart freeze.

Robin stood still, and Steve felt like it took him an eternity to get off the steps of his front lawn, even though it only took a full second, before he was walking over to check up on you. He could see your hands pushing up against the pathway surrounded by grass, of course your face had been the part to fall on the concrete, so he knew you were okay, even as you groaned. But as you managed to flip yourself over, holding your stomach, Steve’s eyes shot white when he saw the trickle of blood on your forehead.

He ran the rest of the way then, an “Oh my God!” From Robin behind him as she ran into action too, landing by your feet, while Steve skidded his knees falling to your head. He was too afraid to pick you up, blood running cold, but he placed his hands over your shoulders. “Oh God y/n. Where does it hurt?!” While his body was working on autopilot, shaking fingers moving your hair slightly out of the way to look at the cut on your head, shaking because he was scared to touch or infect it, his other hand worked on stroking your cheek. Even in his subconscious, Steve cared about comforting you.

You swallowed thickly, before moaning, your hands still clutched at your middle. “My stomach. My stomach hurts Steve.” You whimpered, and his eyes and hands ran to it. “Think I winded myself.” You spluttered a little.

An almost splutter of his own left Steve’s lungs, one hand gently on yours atop your tummy, as his other kept a grounding touch on your shoulder. His voice soft as he checks you there. “Your stomach baby?” He gently looked over it, even though there was obviously nothing to see, his hand soft on yours that laid atop your stomach, watching you stay grimaced on the ground. That trickle of blood above, slow. “You’ve got other things to worry about. How’s your head?” He winced, going back to check on it. Steve felt his cheeks twitch at how he hollowed them in a hiss, that cut was going to be surrounded by a big bruise very soon.

“Oh god. Y/n I’m so sorry.” Robin starts up from behind you. Steve can feel her grabbing your ankles, but when you move your neck to try and see her, Steve moves you back.

“I didn’t mean to! Are you-“

“Not now Robin.” Steve flatly interrupts, keeping his eyes on you. Partly feeling bad because he knows he shouldn’t snap at Robin. He can feel her shrinking behind him. It just came out a bit more... rushed, than he meant. He was just worried about you. Especially when your eyes began to widen worriedly. “My head? What’s wrong with my- oh... Owwwww Steve!” You grasped your hands out to his now, panic clearly turning into tears in your eyes as you realise. You almost wish he hadn’t said it, because now your head hurt.

Steve nodded, taking in deep breaths as he watched that pain start to fall over your face. You clearly weren’t immensely injured. You only had tears pricking in your eyelids, you weren’t crying yet, but every time Steve looked at your cut, it worried him. He just kept his reassuring look on you, looking into your eyes and encouraging you to do the same, having to breathe steadily because hopefully then you’d mirror him. Steve always had to stay the strong one. “Okay baby, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You think you can stand up?” He asks unsure. Really he just needs to know if he can lift you, if he’s okay moving you.

“Yeah.” You nod, Steve nodding back, and your assurances helping calm each other. “Yeah I can, my back doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“Okay. Okay great. C’mon then.” Steve wraps his arm underneath your neck, his other around the crook of your back. Steve gives you a second, before slowly lifting you. Knelt at his knees as you sit up, he waits another second as your arms wrap around his neck, and he sees you’re okay. Then he stands, trying not to jiggle you too much as he readjusts you in his arms, cradling you to his chest, bridal style.

Robin’s close behind, shadowing Steve as he lifts you to his car, grateful to be useful when he asks her to grab his keys from his pocket. Unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for you two. Instead Steve shakes his head, and Robin feels her throat tighten and get watery, like it does when she thinks someone’s disappointed with her. “No, Robin you sit in the back with y/n. Help keep them alright.” Steve plans out, and Robin nods happily, rushing to open the back door, where Steve starts laying you inside.

She can’t hear every well, but gentle words reassuringly spill from Steve’s throat, as he ducks his head in the car while he gets your seatbelt on for you. “Yeah!” Robin gladly adds on, shuffling into the middle seat on the other side, closing the door behind her. “I can make sure they don’t vomit or anything.” She says, more to Steve than you, but clearly you’re not that out of it, by the fact you groan and clutch your stomach again. “Robin, don’t mention throw up.”

“Sorry! Sorry.” She quickly responds, taking your shoulder and asking if you’re okay. When you choose not to respond, in favour of clenching your eyes shut to try and stop a moan, Robin tilts your chin up with her fingers, lightly. “Hey? You gonna pass out on me there?”

“Robin do not let them pass out!” Steve works with her as he gets into the drivers seat, taking a big breath as he starts the ignition.

“Yeah yeah, I’ve got it.” Robin promises, knowing that, as she presses the back of her cool hand to your cheek. You open your eyes, meeting Steve’s worried ones immediately in the rearview mirror, before they flash quickly into those determined ones again, trying not to worry you. Then you look to Robin, feeling a little bad everyone was so worried. “Guys, I-“

“Hm?” Steve interrupts quickly, looking at the rearview more than the road, as he pulls out of his driveway. You shake your head, only a little. “Guys I really think I’m okay.” You swallow, noticing the pain isn’t actually that bad. You think it was more the shock. Steve remaining controlled as ever as he acted out his plan, probably helped you a little too. “I really think I just might’ve cut my head as I fell. You know, I don’t think I like, cracked my skull open or anything.”

You couldn’t see the corner of Steve’s mouth twitch as you said that, but you could see the veins on his hands as he crushed the wheel, turning in the road on his way to the hospital.

Robin nodded beside you, taking your hand up in her own. Wondering if she should get some tissues or something for your head, or leave it to the doctors. You noticed she was staring at it more than you, her worried smile not as easily hidden as Steve’s looks. “Okay. Well that’s good.” She smiles again, very very tenderly stroking your hairline, to clear up your marking without touching your cut. “That’s great. But we’re still gonna take you to the hospital, just to check you out. Right Steve?” She looked up to her best friend, able to see him as he briefly turned his head back, noticing that his smile remained worried when he looked back at his own best friend, although his true nature got smoothed out when he looked back at you. Who he was obviously not trying to show that he was a little scared. “Yeah. No exactly, Robin’s right. I’m still gonna take you to the hospital y/n.”

There were a few more seconds of silence as Steve had to stare at the road, his hand remaining on the headrest of the opposite seat, so he could turn and look back at you whenever he needed. Which he did after those few seconds, only calming as you nodded back at him with an “Okay.” At least your voice sounded steady.

Robin desperately wanted to tell Steve that the bump on your head was swelling. It was turning into a proper bump. But she was worried about freaking you out. Until you asked for air. Clearly you were just a tiny bit out of it, even if it was only because you were freaking out a little at the situation, because you thought to ask instead of doing it yourself. But Robin leaned over your lap to wind your window down anyway, of course. Stroking the back of your head soothingly, as she watched you breathe in the cool wind, the sound surrounding your ears as Steve was going fast. Even though you didn’t stick your head out the window. Dustin did that once, and Steve shrieked, so none of you have tried it again. But as Robin watched you, she took the opportunity to use her spare hand that wasn’t in your hair, to rest it on Steve’s shoulder. And she leaned forward a bit while you had the wind in your ears, to whisper to him “Y/n’s head has a bump.”

She didn’t want to freak him out. But she knew he had to know. And she watched her friends arms tense, as he gripped the steering wheel, before he turned his head to nod, close by her own. Both able to read each others eyes, and they knew they’d be okay, that you’d be okay.

Steve gave a quick look to you, able to see the red discolouration not from blood, marking your bruised bump now. And he saw your eyes open, but tranquil, as you just took in the air. Knowing your head wasn’t out the window, he could go back to the road. Stepping on the gas just the tiniest bit more. His chest was pounding, he couldn’t help it. It wasn’t just you being injured now, it was remembering you injured in the upside down, thoughts that it’ll probably happen again, that it may be worse, even though he doesn’t know how bad things could be right now, one day you could be hurt worse. It made a sort of anger thud in his chest. He never wanted to let you get hurt.

As Robin moved back, she could see that some of your hair wasn’t blown back by the wind, but that’s because strands were stuck in your bloodied cut, even though it was only a smallish cut, as it was starting to dry. Robin just kept stroking the back of your head, her ringed hand tender as she watched the road. Trying to read the signs just like Steve. She knew you’d be fine, so did Steve. But it didn’t stop them worrying that an mri machine was going to prove them wrong, or that you were going to pass out any second, then never wake up.

Steve’s worried boyfriend mode doesn’t quit when you’re in the hospital though. Robin and Steve both try to get their arms around you when you’re in the parking lot. Even when you assure them you don’t need it, you really just think it’s only a cut, you still let Steve hold your waist and walk you to the front desk, as you keep your arms around his shoulder. Mostly because Steve steadying you actually helps a little. Not that you’d tell him that outright, because you don’t want to worry him. But not that Steve doesn’t already know that in the first place.

Steve’s brown eyes are jumping up and down your entire body as a nurse and doctor come help you out. He tries not to bite his nails, but he finally lets his worry show on his face as someone else takes care of you. Someone better equipped to help you than he was. He stops himself from ripping out a nail as Robin stands by his side, her own breathing worried that Steve can clearly hear. But her side touching Steve’s as they both watch you, helps him take a breath, run his hand through his hair, and calm down. Just sticking close by Robin, and her, Steve, as they watch close by.

When you’ve been patched up, Steve stands in the corner with his arms planted over his chest, as the doctor informs you of everything you need to know. Luckily you weren’t concussed, something Steve neeeds a squeeze of your hand or a nudge from Robin to not contest the doctor with. And with an ice pack in hand, and a message of make sure you take some painkillers, and make sure your friends don’t let you go to sleep till much later, you’re free to go. With a brand new piece of guaze over your cut, as a fancy accessory.

Steve goes to work through all the necessary stuff, like usual, but Robin pushes him towards you, saying she’ll go sign you out, he should just sit with you for a sec. Steve’s pretty thankful for this, remembering that now he can just be with you, without having to worry or be in charge or anything like that.

Robin apologises to you yet again, only soothed from her anxieties as you promise you’re alright, with a squeeze of her hand in yours, and a smile. As she takes a shaky breath through her own smile, looking between you and Steve, she gets a finally and truly relaxed, relieved, and warm smile from both her friends back. And she can go do all the boring paperwork stuff to help you out, like a good friend. Maybe she’ll get you a hospital balloon too, something funny, on her way back up.

Steve gets comfy wriggling into your hospital bed with you, actually able to smile as he wraps his arms around your shoulders, picking up your hand that he entwines with his by your collar, and as you settle your banged up head on his chest. Steve makes sure you’re okay, his other hand pressing your icepack to your head, even though his fingers were numb, and water was trickling down his wrist, moving it whenever you told him it was too cold, or you needed the cold somewhere else, or that spot was too painful for the pack. And once you’re laughing with him again, because Steve made you laugh, he’s smiling into your head, lips upturned against your warm skin, as he promises there’s lot of painkillers, and chocolate, and ice cold milkshakes that are gonna be picked up on your drive home. As he spends the entire day just kissing your poor head. Again, and again, and again

#Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Steve Harrington hurt/comfort #Steve Harrington/reader #Steve Harrington x reader #ask #anon #Steve Harrington angst #Steve Harrington fluff #stranger things #Steve Harrington blurb

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youremy-celebrity · 1 year

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fbi open up [mha smau]

bakugo katsuki x reader

amongst search histories and private youtube videos

part thirty-seven: get in line, bakuhoe (written)

masterlist // part thirty-six // part thirty-eight

"i'm nervous," yn mumbled softly to bakugo, who stood next to her in the line as they waited to enter the stadium. she reached up to adjust the cap lower, casting a shadow over her eyes, then she folded her arms across her chest and slouched down, keeping her gaze on her sneakers.

"don't be, everything will be fine," bakugo replied back, he stood tall admist the crowd, alert and watching for anything strange.

"yo," kirishima approached with kaminari in tow, having parked the car after dropping off bakugo and yn.

"you two are really doing this, huh?" kaminari commented, a small twitch of his lips as he recalled the plan bakugo had explained to them prior.

"it was the only solution i could think of," bakugo grunted as the four shuffled forward in the line, they were getting close to the open doors now.

"you sure?" kirishima smirked, sending his friend a knowing look.

"shut up before i slap you," the light blonde growled back. it was a weak threat, but it did the job as the redhead held up both hands in mock surrender, the smile never fading.

they shuffled forward again.

"tickets," the usher held out his hand, an electronic scanner held in the other.

bakugo pulled out his phone and swiftly located the e-tickets in his files. he presented the codes to the usher who scanned four times in quick succession, "you may go, please don't push through those already in the pen."

"sure thing, thanks!" kirishima offered as the other three brushed past with a small nod.

as they passed the merchandise stand, a pinkette stood out from the crowd and the four made their way over to her and the rest of the group.

"hey guys," kaminari greeted once they were close enough. todoroki, sero, jiro, and ashido shifted their attention from the shiny goods to their friends who had missed out on the promised dinner.

"hey!" ashido grinned, "y'all ready for whatever it is you're doing?" she turned to the pair in question.

yn offered a small shrug in response and shifted her gaze to meet bakugo's.

"fuck yeah we are," he confirmed.

they migrated towards and stairs and descended them, headed towards the floor. they had gotten moshpit tickets although it was pricey as bakugo had insisted it was "a worthy investment at a best jeanist concert".

as the stadium filled up with fans and the noise of chatter rose in the echoey space, the ball of nerves in yn's stomach grew and she brought her clenched fist up to her mouth, biting at her thumbnail lightly.

"stop that," bakugo chided, referring to the worrying in addition to the biting. he removed her fist from her lips and met his palm with hers, running a calloused thumb across her knuckles. he turned back to face the empty stage as heat rose to his ears.

"i can't help it,” she shifted her eyes to look at his face, “what if it doesn't work? what if it makes things worse for us? what if you and keigo end up being dragged down by this mess?" she rambled, tightening her grip on bakugo's hand with every sentence.

"just trust me," he turned back to her anxious gaze, "besides, if you're only worrying for me and birdface, don't. worrying makes you stupid."

she scoffed, "what a unique way of telling me you appreciate my concerns, kats."

"of course," he twitched the corner of his lips up to a proud smirk, "i'm the most unique there is."

yn groaned with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, fluttering her eyelids at the act, making sure he saw. but she hid her face as a small smile grew on her lips and the nerves settled.

the lights in the hall dimmed and a loud chorus of cheers filled the air. the show was about to begin.

"you ready?" bakugo glanced at her, raising the cap off her head.

"no," yn scrunched her face, although truthfully, with the steady grip of bakugo's hand grounding her anxiety, she found her panic nonexistent.

the introductory chords of the opening song aroused another round of screams from the crowd, their own group joining in with excited yells. yn watched as takami keigo, famously hawks, paraded on stage, mic in hand. a genuine beam formed on her features as she witnessed how far hawks had come in the span of two years, from an extra on set and a low-charting digital single to where he is now, it was an incredible journey she was happy for him for.

as the song progressed, yn found herself letting loose with her friends. jumping and singing along with jiro and ashido, yet never letting go of bakugo's hand. the boys comically played air guitar to the riffs and even todoroki, who had sworn beef with bakugo, was happily playing a fool along with them.

bakugo let a small smile rest on his lips as he watched his friends dance among the crowd, letting yn swing his arm back and forth in her excitement, nervousness forgotten. he chuckled a little to himself.

"thank you," hawks said breathlessly into the red metallic microphone, "before we go on to our next song, i have some words."

murmurs rose from the crowd around them as people discussed the tabloids they'd seen earlier in the day. hawks spent a moment observing the people in the pit before he catches the pair’s eyes, a smirk crept on his face as he offered them a small nod.

"that right there, is yn."

one of the stage lights swung over to where his finger pointed, lighting up where yn stood with bakugo next to her, and their friends around them who had been prepared for this.

“i said this yesterday, but i am not dating her. neither did she cheat on me when we did use to date two years ago. and if you ‘fucking birdbrains’” he chuckled as he used the insult bakugo had thrown him during their phone call, “can't accept the fact that we're friends and move on with your lives then you're a sorry excuse of a person and i don't want you having anything to do with me."

bakugo turned to face yn fully, his cheshire grin on full display could barely be missed as yn's heart thumped heavily in her chest.

"by the way, that's yn's boyfriend, and although he's tired of having to clear the air, he's pretty excited to prove they're not faking it."

in the next second, bakugo's arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. his other hand reached up to rest on her jaw as their lips met in a heated kiss. yn brought both her arms up to wrap around his shoulders, burying a hand in the back of his hair as bakugo angled her face to deepen the kiss.

"so, please stop it with the stupid articles about this, we're all tired and it just tells us you don't have a life outside of making up rumours. with that, lets fucking get on with the show!"

the light swung off of them back onto the stage as hawks' second song came on through the mega speakers.

the pair broke from the kiss, chest rising and falling heavily as they caught their breaths, “i can’t believe you got both hawks and best jeanist to agree to this.”

“anything for you, babe,” bakugo grinned widely, brushing a thumb along yn’s cheekbone as he held onto the embrace.

"y’think that worked?" she met his eyes with a doubtful gaze.

"i'll gladly do it again if it didn't," bakugo responded, the look he returned her steady and sure.

yn pushed away from him and lightly smacked his shoulder with a laugh, "get in line, bakuhoe."

he breathed a small sigh as he let his arms drop to his side, yn returning to party mode with the rest of their friends.

“anything for you.”

main masterlist

taglist @bakugouswh0r3 @kara062284-blog @nevilila @levylovegood @whore-of-many-hot-men @jazzylove @jasmixs @hypernovaxx @charliepoopyfart @ti-i-ja-izvan-svemira @fallingmoon02 @megnotfound @thankk-u-next @sukislady @fairywriter-oracle @parker-natasha @itgetzweird08 @lagataprrr @203steph @ange-lica-3 @thisrandombitch @mjsnightmares @aelouslvr @thereal-persephone @citrustsuki @nonomesupposedto @bubble-teabubs @softtashoney @blaaiissee @theycallme-becky @marsprivateclub @leeyah04 @winterv-black @azamii0 @bloombb

@444katsuki @lucidliving1205 @mmmaackerel @kipani-snow-25 @tonysttank @cathwritestragediesnotsins @doonaandpjs @sunasconcert @canarystwin @bowloficecubes @pachiibatt @clubfairy @xviternity @missbunsworld @siriiel

#bnha social media au #bakugo x y/n #mha smau #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha fanfiction #bnha bakugou #bakugou x reader #boku no hero acedamia #my hero acedamia #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo smau #mha college au #katsuki bakugo mha #mha #bnha

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timefospookies · 2 days

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“Chuuuuuyaaaaa!”

That grating voice…

“Dazai?!”

The skinny man gave the redhead a friendly wave from the couch- which he was comfortably sprawled out on with a wine glass in hand, and the TV on to a barely audible volume.

“Welcome home!”

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“Broke in.”

Chuuya stared for a few seconds, contemplating the scene with an air of resignation.

“I shoulda known,” he sighed, giving in.

He was too damn tired to even get angry. He’d been working his ass off for weeks on end and now that he finally had time to go home, he wasn’t planning on wasting that time on this idiot. So he continued on his way, closing the door behind him, removing his shoes, and placing his coat and hat on the hanger by the door. He stretched out with a groan as he walked past the couch towards the kitchen, sensing Dazai’s hazel eyes lazily tracing his every move. The brunette swirled the wine in his glass and took another sip.

“That better not be one of my good wines!” Chuuya yelled over his shoulder.

“Ha! As if!” Dazai shouted back, “Wouldn’t be caught dead downing one of your stupid snobby wines. Talk about embarrassing!”

The redhead felt his ears heat up as he twitched in visible annoyance. He scoffed as he eventually shuffled back to the couch with a bottle of wine and another glass in hand.

“Oh, shut up! You know what’s really embarrassing? Thinking that cheap sake actually tastes good!”

“It does,” the man retaliated blankly.

“Yeah, if you like the taste of piss! Now, move your ass!”

Chuuya roughly shoved Dazai to the side in an attempt to slip into the couch.

“Wha-hey! Ow?! Go sit on the other side, it’s literally completely empty!” he cried.

“It’s my damn couch, I get to decide where I wanna sit!”

“Oh my godddd, Chuuya’s so childish,”

“Chuuya’s gonna kick you out of his fucking house if you don’t move!”

Dazai scoffed, rolling his eyes, but regardless he ceded a bit of his space to him.

After an extended physical struggle, the two settled into a comfortable enough position in which neither would complain- leaning against each other, practically shoulder to shoulder; Chuuya’s foot dangling off the arm of the couch, and his own arm rested around the couch’s back; Dazai with his legs clutched to his chest, and head rested on Chuuya’s shoulder. Their wine glasses had been abandoned at the foot of the couch. As the movie on the TV droned on, the redhead felt his eyelids grow incredibly heavy. He had to make an active effort to keep his head from falling forward, as the sudden weight it gained was far too much for him to handle. He sighed, and he sighed again, and again.

“Long day?”

“Hah,” he sneered, “Try month.”

“They’re working you to the bone, huh?”

In response, Chuuya sighed once more.

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that,” the other chuckled. “Sucks to be you.”

“Yeah, that’s real helpful, asshole.”

Dazai shifted, peeling himself away from Chuuya and adjusting their position to bring the shorter man closer to his chest.

“Mmm,” he murmured, running soft slender fingers through the mafioso’s hair “My poor, poor slug...”

He scratched gently at his scalp and Chuuya couldn’t help but give a content hum as he allowed himself to melt into the man’s chest, and wrapped his arms around his waist.

“Jus’…gonna lay here a sec…” he mumbled as he slowly drifted off.

His eyes fluttered shut and soon he was snoring softly into Dazai’s chest, to which the man could only smirk. It was endearing. The warmth of the moment. The comfort. Dazai wrapped his own arms around Chuuya’s body and settled into a more comfortable laying position, so that as he fixated on his lover’s steady breathing, he too could drift into peaceful slumber.

#Chuuya is tired™️#dazai osamu #chuuya nakahara #skk #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo gay dogs #bsd skk #soukoku #soukouku #spooky talk #skk fanfic

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collabpartners · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel: The Contract of Blood Ep. 3

*Hey guys, we're back with another episode! This is published on March 6, 2024. If you guys like this episode, don't be afraid to vote and comment! That would be greatly appreciated! Have a blessed day. Warning: vulgar language and an intense make-out scene. Enjoy!*

Episode Three: In The House of Lust

Angel flutters his eyes open, hearing sniffling. He sits up from his bed in the middle of the night, scooting off the bed. He peeks out of his room and looks both ways of the hallway. He keeps himself warm by pulling his bathrobe over his shoulders, preventing his shivering. As he walks down, he follows the sound of mumbling words. The words become clear once he steps closer to the room.

“No, don’t hurt him. Get the fuck away from him--”

Angel blinks in surprise to realize that those words were coming from Husk. He knocks on the door. “Husk?”

There is no answer, causing Angel to frown when he hears Husk’s sniffles. He turns the knob to test whether it’s locked or not, but to his surprise, it is unlocked. He opens the door, leaning his way into the room before watching Husk breathing heavily in his sleep.

“Angel, please, wake up.”

Angel arches a brow at hearing his name and tilts his head in confusion. He steps towards the bed to sit on the edge, moving one of his hands into Husk’s.

“Husk,” Angel calls softly, hoping to wake Husk up.

Husk groans, his ears twitch.

“Angel--” Husk opens one of his tired eyelids, noticing Angel sitting next to him. “The fuck?”

“You were talking in your sleep,” Angel points out, drawing his hand away from Husk’s.

Husk sits up, rubbing his face. “I didn’t say anything stupid, did I?”

Angel notices tears gushing out of the bartender’s eyes. “Well...that depends on what you think.”

Husk wipes his tears away. “Damn.”

“You must have had a horrible dream if it causes you to cry in your sleep.”

“It’s nothing,” Husk denies, wiping his nose after he sniffles.

Angel frowns and bumps his shoulder into Husk’s softly. “Hey, you know it’s okay to open up about things, right? I open up things about myself to you all the time--”

“I know. I know. But this...this is different.”

“How is it different?” Angel asks.

Husk glances up at Angel, noticing that the bruises and scratches were still there since he came into the hotel a few hours ago. He frowns and looks away.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Angel places a hand on top of Husk’s. “Did you have a bad dream about me?”

“What? No--”

“You said my name in your sleep,” Angel interrupts before Husk can lie about it.

Husk bites his bottom lips and scoots closer to Angel. “Yeah. But it’s nothing. I know that things won’t change soon. I just...wish I can kill that fucker for you.”

Angel smiles softly at Husk. “I know. But I promise you that I’ll be okay. I just got to do better and maybe it’s best if no one from the hotel comes to the studio. I know you all have the urge to protect me, but I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Husk frowns and sighs. “I don’t know if we can stay out of the studio.”

“I know. But...I don’t want to get in anymore trouble is all,” Angel says. “By the end of the day, I’ll still come over to my favorite bartender.”

Husk huffs up a laugh. “And you get to talk about the shitty things you have to put up with at work?”

“Yep.”

“Have a few drinks?”

“Oh yeah.”

Husk and Angel exchange loving stares.

Angel moves off the bed. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, Husky. Good night--”

Husk reaches for one of Angel’s four hands, stopping him from moving. “Please stay with me.”

They both widen their eyes at Husk’s request.

“I mean, er--”

Angel softly grins at Husk. “Of course, Husky.”

“Wha--?”

Angel lays back down on the bed next to Husk. “Nothing sexual, right?” He smirks after asking.

Husk blushes and shakes his head. “Uh, no.”

“That’s what I thought,” Angel says with a snicker.

Husk plops down next to Angel. “This means nothing between us.”

“Uh-huh, just drinkin’ buddies, right?” Angel teases Husk.

“Yeah, definitely. You know, get some drinks, talkin’ shit, sleepin’ on the bed together--oh shit.”

Angel snorts. “Ha!”

“Yeah, I walked right into that one.”

“You always walked right into my jokes every time,” Angel replies with a flirty smirk.

“Let’s just get to sleep,” Husk says while turning over, his back on Angel.

Angel scoots closer to Husk, wrapping him up with his four arms and laying his head on top of Husk’s furry head.

Husk widens his eyes in shock. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Being the big spoon.”

“That ain’t a sexual kink, is it?”

“No, it’s a cuddle position that is not sexual at all. Totally platonic.”

“Platonic, right.”

Angel hugs Husk like a teddy bear. “Night, Husky.”

“Night,” Husk responds, purring at the warmness of the hug. He widens his eyes in shock that he was purring in Angel’s hold. It takes only a second before he relaxes, falling asleep in Angel’s hold and purring some more.

~.~

Bzzzzzz

Angel groans tiredly to hear the vibration from his pocket. He lifts up his tired eyes, noticing him spooning Husk from behind. Husk seems so relax in his hold that he’s afraid of moving in fear of waking up Husk.

He uses one of his two right hands to take his phone out of his bathrobe pocket and look to find Valentino’s name on it. A soft groan escapes his lips. He slowly removes his hold from Husk, careful to not wake him up. He walks out of the room and answers the call.

“Hello?”

Husk opens his eyes, hearing Angel’s soft voice. He listens to the conversation, sitting up. He watches Angel’s silhouette on the doorway, watching his shadow trembling.

“Val, it’s too early in the morning to do this shoot.”

Husk carefully moves off of the bed, tiptoeing to the door.

“Whatcha got planned later on?”

Husk peeks out of the bedroom, watching Angel hugging himself while on the phone with Valentino.

“Okay...I’ll be there,” Angel says with a groan. “Yeah...I--I l-love you too.”

“Good boy,” Husk hears Valentino say at the other end of the line.

Angel hangs up, breathing shakily.

“You don’t have to go,” Husk utters, nearly causing Angel to jump in surprise.

“Oh, uh, sorry, Husky. Duty calls.”

“He’s gonna kill you, Angel.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s going to be fine.”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me and say that it’s going to be fine. You just came home with injuries twice in the row. What makes you think he won’t hurt you for the third time?”

“Husk--”

“Please...stay here. With me. With everyone else in the hotel. If Val comes, we’ll protect you from him. We’ll kill that bastard for you,” Husk begs. “Just...stay with us.”

Angel frowns, his eyes welling up with tears. His limbs are shaking, but Husk sees a red chain wrapped around Angel’s neck. “I wish things were that easy.” He walks passed Husk, as if he’s being pulled out of the hotel by the chain wrapped around his neck.

Husk breathes heavily, reaching his claw hand out to him, but withdraws. His red feather eyebrows narrow.

“Fuck,” Husk curses to himself.

“Fuck,” an innocent voice repeats.

Husk whirls around to find Bella standing behind him. With clenched teeth, he shushes her. “Don’t say that.”

“But everyone else says it--”

“It doesn’t give you the right to repeat it,” Husk scolds her quietly. “What are you doing up?”

“I heard you and Angel,” Bella answers innocently. “Is Angel going to be okay?”

Husk frowns and looks at the empty hallway ahead of them. He takes in a deep breath and exhales. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Just go back to bed. I have to have a private conversation with someone else.”

“Oh, okay,” Bella replies while going back to her room to sleep in.

Husk, with a look of determination, walks to find Charlie’s room. He knocks on the door to Charlie’s room, hearing quiet footsteps.

The door creaks open slightly, revealing Vaggie peeking out.

“Oh, Husk, it’s just you,” Vaggie greets, opening the door halfway and leaning against it. “Need something?”

“I need to talk to Charlie,” Husk requests.

Charlie peeks over, her blonde hair messy with pajamas. She yawns. “You want to speak to me?”

“Yes...alone.”

Vaggie arches a brow in suspicion. “Why?”

“It’s okay, Vaggie. Go back to sleep. I’ll be back,” Charlie reassures her girlfriend.

Vaggie seems hesitant for a moment until she nods. “Okay, babe. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Charlie calls while Vaggie walks back to the master bed. She steps out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind her to give her and Husk more privacy. “Is there a problem with the hotel?”

“No. I mean, there is a problem,” Husk utters, walking away from her bedroom.

She follows after him. “What’s going on?”

“I’m worried about Angel.”

She frowns. “I am too.”

“Do you know anything about breaking someone’s contract?” he asks her.

She furrows her brow. “No. But I think Dad knows more about it than I do. He’s the ruler of Hell after all.”

“Do you think you could ask him?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course. But why does it have to private?”

“I just didn’t want to draw attention to the rest of the residents.”

“Oh, Husk, don’t worry about it. We’re all concerned for Angel and his safety. Where is he?”

“He’s already at work.”

“At this hour?!” Charlie gasps in shock.

“Yeah,” he answers with a frown.

Charlie slams her fist on her open palm. “Then I’ll give Dad a call.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

She nods in understanding. Before Husk walks away, she adds, “I’ve seen the way Val treated him. I didn’t mean to make it worse by being there. I wish I can take him out then.”

“What stopped you?”

“Angel.”

Husk scoffs. “Figures.”

“Don’t blame him. He’s contracted to defend Val if he’s attack in his studio,” Charlie responds softly.

He nods. “I know how that is.”

She places both hands on his shoulders to comfort him. “Don’t worry, we’ll find a way to get Angel out of the contract. Maybe you too.”

He shakes his head. “I’m more worried about Angel than about me.”

She withdraws her hands off of him. “Okay. I’ll call around to see what we can do.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“No problem.”

~.~

The phone rings while the mysterious shadow is surrounded by duckies. An evil cackle echoes in the dark room.

“Behold, the cutest thing you’ll ever see,” a man responds as it reveals to be a blond short man with a bright smile. “Rubber ducky that moves all by itself! And it can swim through the lakes of fire! How about that?!”

There is no one in the meeting room present as he realizes his phone is ringing.

“Oh shit,” he curses in response, stumbling over the hill of duckies to get to his phone. He sees Charlie’s name with a gasp. “Oh, shit, it’s Charlie. Wait, what do I say? Hold on, I got this.” He answers the phone with a plastered smile. “Heeeeey bitch~!”

“Hey, Dad,” Charlie responds from the other line, pacing around her room while Vaggie is sitting on her bed to watch. “Can I ask you something that you know about maybe?”

“Oh, yeah, anything you want, I’ll provide. Except for sex. That would be weird,” Lucifer, Charlie’s dad, responds with a cringe look on his face.

“What? Ew, Dad, no. Look, do you happen to know how to get someone out of a contract with the overlord?” Charlie asks nervously.

“Uhh, eesh, yeah, that’s on the whole different playing field, kid. It’s complicated. Like it depends on what kind of contract it’s under. All contracts from the overlords has to tie in one of the seven rings of hell. You know, like pride, lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, sloth, and envy. Depending on which ring the contract is tied to, there are different ways of breaking them. Why?”

“Well, my friend, Angel, has been abused all the time by the overlord, Valentino.”

“Oh yeah, that guy’s a creep.”

“He tried to hire me one time.”

“Ew, what a pervert. You didn’t--”

“No, I didn’t, Dad.”

“Good. You could go for so much better than working at Porn Studios.”

“Also, my friend, Husk, he’s tied to Alastor.”

“Alastor?!” Lucifer exclaimed in shock. “That bastard!”

“Do you think there’s a way to break both of their chains?”

“Well, I’m not sure about Husk...but I believe that since Angel is working under Valentino, his contract would fall under the Lust ring. Which is something someone else knows about. Someone that we haven’t seen in seven years--”

Charlie gasps excitedly. “Really?! We’re going to see him?!”

“Sounds like it! I’ll call to arrange the meeting with Uncle Ozzie and we’ll go on the family roadtrip!” Lucifer responds. “You can bring your girlfriend and your friends along for the fun field trip!”

“And our daughter?!” Charlie chirps.

“Wait, since when did you have a daughter?!” Lucifer screams.

Charlie chuckles nervously. “Vaggie and I kind of adopted her off the streets. You should go meet your granddaughter.”

“Holy shit! I’m on my way now!” Lucifer replies while he hangs up on the phone. He marches around the office while singing, “My daughter has a daughter! Take that anxiety!” He doesn’t hesitate to pack for the road trip while making an important phone call.

~.~

Husk is cleaning up the bar with a sad sigh. He is in his own world until Charlie pops up behind the counter.

“HUSK!”

“AAH!” Husk shouts, stumbling back. He sighs in annoyance. “What the fuck? The day is just gettin’ starting.”

“Good news! There’s a way to help Angel.”

“Oh shit, really?”

“Yepperoo! I just called Dad and he says that he’s going to call up for an important meeting with the ruler of Lust, Uncle Ozzie.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with Angel’s contract--?”

“Angel works at Porn Studios, which makes his contract fall under the Lust category. Uncle Ozzie will know a way to get Angel out of the contract.”

Husk widens his smile. “That’s the best news I heard all day.”

“Hell yeah!” Charlie cheers. “We’re gonna help Angel! We’re gonna help Angel! I told the whole hotel about it!”

“Wait what?”

“C’mon, the others want to help. Vaggie and Bella are certainly on board with it. Oh, Cherri and Nifty are totally on board with helping him as long as Cherri gets to blow stuff up and Nifty gets to stab people that are our enemies. Nora seems like she rather come with us than stay here. And Alastor--”

“You told Alastor too?!” Husk gasps in shock.

“Yes, she did,” Alastor replies, appearing randomly beside Husk.

Husk yelps and stumbles away from Alastor.

Alastor tilts his head, cracking his neck while looking at him darkly with a stretched grin. “And you know what I say about this little adventure.”

Husk backs away from Alastor.

Alastor suddenly stands upright with a bright static voice. “I say that it’s a grand idea of taking a little break from running a hotel and have ourselves a grand ole time, involving helping friends out of contracts that were completely none of my business!”

“There you go, Al! That’s the spirit!” Charlie responds with her fists pumped up. “I’m gonna go start packing!!!” She runs off to start on packing, leaving Husk alone with Alastor.

Alastor chuckles. “You get scared so easily.”

Husk huffs, not sure how to respond to that without coming off brash. “Uh, with all due respect, but why are you coming along?”

“I’m mostly there to support Charlie and keep my eye on you to make sure you don’t use our shared powers to tear shit up,” Alastor responds with a snarl at Husk.

Husk groans. “Look, I don’t even know how I can even control those...things.”

“Just don’t have a powerful emotion and you should be fine.”

“Fine? What if someone is hurting Angel again?”

“Well, you’re going to have to stay the fuck out of it,” Alastor says, his tone of frustration.

Husk stops his questioning and seals his lips. He sighs and nods. “I understand.”

~.~

“Babe, calm down,” Vaggie soothes her energize girlfriend, who’s packing up not only her suitcase by Bella’s. Bella watches Charlie rushing to pack things up from her bed.

“I think we should let her get excited,” Bella suggests innocently.

Vaggie giggles. “Honey, you don’t know her like I do. If she gets carried away, she’ll drive herself crazy--”

“Huh?” Charlie responds, her pupils small and craze.

Vaggie and Bella exchange glances.

“See?” Vaggie points out with a soft smile.

Bella tilts her head. “Who exactly are we meeting?”

“Your other adopted family members! Particularly, your grandpa and your great uncle!” Charlie responds excitedly.

“Slow down, Charlie,” Vaggie responds. “She’s barely processing the fact that we’ve adopted her.”

“It’s fine,” Bella reassures Vaggie. “I like getting to know my “adopted” family if that makes any sense.”

“Of course!” Charlie responds.

It’s sudden that Nora enters the room.

“Geez, what’s the commotion?” Nora asks with a groan.

“Sorry to wake you up, Nora,” Charlie replies. “We are closing down the hotel until further notice and go on this big family roadtrip!”

Nora blinks in surprise. “Oh. Well, I hope you guys have fun.”

Before Nora walks away, Bella utters, “Uh, you can come with us if you want to. It’d be nice if I’m not the only child coming along the trip.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Charlie responds and looks at Nora. “What do you say?”

Nora takes a moment to ponder about it before she shrugs and says, “Sure. Let me go pack up my stuff from my place.”

“Yay!” Charlie cheers excitedly.

Nora walks away, leaving Bella with her new moms.

~.~

Husk hasn’t packed at all since he didn’t think he need to. He’s got overall straps and jeans and that’s all he needs. Who needs shirts when he’s got fur?

Alastor didn’t pack either. His red suit should be satisfactory unless someone plans on messing it up.

Nifty didn’t care to pack, more concern about chasing after the bug with her knife.

While they wait for Charlie and Vaggie to show up with Bella and loads of suitcases, the wall is blown off by the door again.

“Guess who’s back, bitches?!” Cherri announces, walking through the hole she created.

“I’m starting to think that you like blowing up that spot on purpose,” Alastor says with a sneer.

“I like to make dramatic entrances,” Cherri responds with a wink from her one eye. “Where’s Angel?”

“At work,” Husk says sadly.

“Already? Usually he has more time,” Cherri responds. “Ugh, I can’t stand it. Glad Charlie called me to ask for help.”

“Hey gang!” Charlie chirps as Bella and Vaggie follow her downstairs. “We’re ready to go.”

They hear the car honking. Alastor opens the front doors of the hotel to find Lucifer in a minivan with the painted ducky on it.

“What up?!” Lucifer shouts to the group, trying to avoid eye-contact with Alastor.

“Ugh, he’s back,” Alastor groans irritably.

Lucifer turns the car off and marches up the steps. “Now where’s that granddaughter I’m told so much about?”

Charlie leads Bella to Lucifer. “Uh, Dad. This is Bella. Bella, this is your grandpa.”

Lucifer’s eyes sparkle at the sight of Bella. “AWWW! She’s so cute! No wonder you both picked her off the streets!” He picks Bella up and twirls around with her in his hands. “I got a granddaughter!”

Alastor sighs. “What the hell is with the minivan?”

“It’s for our family roadtrip!” Lucifer points at the van excitedly.

“Isn’t that too small for us?” Cherri asks.

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” Lucifer says while waving it off.

“I can make it bigger,” Alastor brags.

“Oh, you’re comin’ with us?” Lucifer grumbles while looking at Alastor.

“Of course, I am. My pet seems to have an obsession with protecting his sweet, sweet Angel,” Alastor answers.

Husk rolls his eyes Alastor’s response.

“Speaking of Angel, where is he? The meeting revolves around him, right? He’s got to show up,” Lucifer responds.

“Wait, what?” Vaggie utters in shock.

“Oh yeah, Uncle Ozzie says that he needs to see Angel Dust when it comes to talking about his contract with Valentino,” Lucifer informs the group.

“But he’s at work right now,” Charlie gasps in shock.

Lucifer clenches his teeth. “We gotta leave now since the meeting is tonight and it takes a few hours to get to the Lust Ring.”

Husk starts to back into the shadows, sneaking out of the hotel without Alastor knowing.

“Well, do you think you can move the meeting to later?” Vaggie asks.

“It’s at midnight. Is that good for him?” Lucifer questions the group.

“Shit, he doesn’t come back till midnight from work,” Cherri says with a gasp.

Lucifer clenches his teeth. “That’s going to be a problem.”

Alastor looks around for Husk. “Wait, where the hell is Husk?”

Everyone looks around for Husk.

“He just bolted into the city,” Nora’s voice chirps behind Lucifer.

Everyone glances at Nora, who is drinking from her juice box.

“Which direction is he heading?” Cherri questions Nora.

“I don’t know, I just walked past him,” Nora answers with a shrug.

“He better have a good reason for leaving his spot,” Alastor growls darkly.

~.~

Angel finally has a lunch break. He groans in pain while sitting in his dresser room. Hearing creaking noises from the ceiling, he jumps from a sudden crash through the ceiling into his room. He blinks in surprise and sees Husk laying on the floor with a groan in pain.

“Ouch,” Husk groans in pain.

“Husk, what the fuck are you doing here?” Angel whispers to Husk harshly, helping him up on his feet. “If Val sees you, he’s gonna fucking kill both of us.”

“I know. I know. But listen to me. There’s a way to get you out of that contract.”

“W-What?”

“Charlie made some calls and manage to get us a meeting with the ruler of the Lust ring. He’ll help you find a way to break your contract.”

Angel blinks in shock. “You guys shouldn’t have to do that--”

“Do you want to keep being treated like shit here?” Husk asks Angel, giving him a pleading look.

Angel frowns and shakes his head. “No. But--”

“No buts,” Husk responds. “You said that as long as you are contracted to Val, you are going to be putting up with this kind of shit. It’s getting to the point where he’s actually hurting you. He’s going to kill you either he finds us here together or not.”

Angel trembles in fear. “You got to go, Husk. He’s going to be--”

“Come with me,” Husk begs, holding out his hand for Angel to take.

“But Husk--”

“Please,” Husk utters, extending his hand. “Do you want to continue to be treated like shit and have to force yourself to love someone you don’t love?”

Angel widens his eyes in shock. “You heard--”

“You were right outside of my room,” Husk responds, as if it’s obvious. “So, what’s gonna be?”

Angel bites his lips. He looks at his phone on top of his dresser and picks it up. He shifts a glance at Husk, frowning at him. Then, he surprises Husk by shoving his phone into the dresser drawer and taking his hand.”

“Please, get me out of this shit-hole,” Angel replies, his limbs trembling from the recent scars.

Husk nods his head, carrying Angel in a bridal style. “Hang tight then.” He jumps off through the hole on the ceiling.

Angel hangs on around Husk’s neck with his top set of arms while his bottom set of arms holds tight around his waist.

Husk looks down to check on Angel, noticing him trembling from the cold.

Angel holds Husk tighter in fear that he will fall off.

“It’s okay,” Husk says softly as if he’s reading Angel’s mind. “I got you. I won’t drop you, I promise.”

Angel looks up at Husk, who glances ahead. Then Angel shifts his gaze down at the ground.

“Holy shit. I never knew the city looks so small from up here.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah.”

Angel relaxes in Husk’s hold. “Bet you fly like this often, huh, feathers~?”

“Only when I’m in a mood to,” he says with a shrug.

“So, this meeting with the ruler of Lust...it’s supposed to help me with my situation?”

“Yeah. But they’re leaving now, so we have to hurry and catch up to them.”

Angel holds onto Husk and notices how close they were to get to the van in front of the hotel with Charlie closing down the hotel.

“He’s finally back with Angel!” Cherri notices as Husk lands on his feet, still carrying Angel in his arms.

Alastor glares at Husk while the others jump in excitement that Angel is coming along with them.

“Did you get off of work early?” Bella asks happily.

“Well, I thought I need a bit of a break from the set,” Angel answers Bella while Husk sets him down on his feet.

“Wait, will Val hurt you if you--?”

“He’ll hurt me regardless whether I was there or not,” Angel replies, interrupting Vaggie.

“Well, we’re gonna get you out of that contract,” Charlie chirps in determination. “That way Val will never hurt you again.”

“And we’re going to take a family roadtrip to the Lust Ring to meet with the ruler of the Lust ring himself,” Lucifer adds while showing his minivan. “By going on this cool ride! Let’s go!”

He snaps his fingers, opening the back of the van. Cherri hops in first while Nifty follows after her with snickers. Charlie picks Bella up and walks into the van with Vaggie and Nora behind them. Husk and Angel climbs into the back of the van, letting Lucifer shut the doors.

“Calling shotgun?” Lucifer teases Alastor.

“I rather call a driver seat, but since you’re the ruler, I suppose I let you drive.”

Lucifer scoffs while holding up the keys. “Oh, I’m glad you’re so humble.”

“Fuck you,” Alastor snarls.

~.~

“Are we there yet?” Nifty groans thirty minutes after departing from the hotel.

“We just left the city,” Vaggie answers with a deadpan stare at the cyclops maid.

“Forgive, Nifty,” Alastor replies, waving his hand like it isn’t a big deal from the passenger side. “She hates it when people are going slow.”

“I’m not going slow,” Lucifer objects, driving the van.

Alastor shifts his yellow eyes and notices that Lucifer is only going fifteen miles an hour. “Really? Your speedometer says otherwise.”

“It’s been a while since I used this van. I don’t want to burn up the gas by speeding up,” Lucifer argues.

“I can’t believe you drive like a grandma,” Cherri snorts.

“Dad, you could’ve used any other cars. You have like fifteen of them,” Charlie says with a groan.

“I know. I know, but this vehicle feels more family-roadtripy,” Lucifer responds with a shrug.

“That word is non-existent,” Alastor argues. It’s sudden that he feels a kick at the back of the chair. He whirls around to find Nora leaning back in her seat next to Bella, with both of the girls sharing earplugs to listen to music. He turns back around, feeling small kicks on his back. Alastor’s eye starts to twitch.

“Are we there yet?” Nifty asks with an impatient groan.

“No,” Lucifer answers.

“Are we there yet?” Nifty inquires impatiently again.

“No,” Lucifer responds again.

“Are we there yet?” Nifty questions again.

“No, we’re not even halfway across the desert,” Lucifer responds angrily.

“How long does it usually take to get to the Lust Ring?” Bella asks out of curiosity.

“Usually,” Alastor answers for Lucifer. “It takes about seven hours at a normal speed. But going so slow, it’ll take us twelve hours to get there.”

“Hey, our meeting is in twelve hours. Who knew we'll get there just in time?” Lucifer sasses Alastor.

Alastor gives Lucifer a deadpan stare.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Nifty complains.

“Ugh, c’mon,” Vaggie groans.

“Why didn’t you go before we leave?” Lucifer questions Nifty.

“Because I didn’t need to go then,” Nifty answers.

While everyone is arguing amongst themselves making a stop, Husk looks out of the window to see that they aren’t going to go any faster. Angel notices and massages Husk’s back. Husk starts to relax a bit while purring.

“Better?” Angel whispers to Husk.

“As long as Nifty isn’t looking to punish ‘bad’ boys, I think it’s better,” Husk says with a sigh.

Angel chuckles when he notices Husk kneading on the window sill with his claws. “But you aren’t a bad boy, are you?”

“Really? You’re going to ruin the mood.”

“I’m just saying. You’ve been a good boy~”

“Okay, I’m not relaxed anymore.”

Angel giggles. “I’m giving you hard time, Husky.”

Husk relaxes again, purring and kneading. He isn’t aware that he is scratching on the window sill.

“Husk, for God’s sake, will you stop scratching on the window sill--?” Lucifer curses until he realizes that Angel is giving him a back massage. “Oh, uh, nevermind.”

Alastor leans to the side to whisper to the blond. “They’re in a secret relationship.”

“Why secret?” Lucifer asks.

Alastor shrugs. “Frankly, everyone knows they’re on a date except for them.”

“I don’t follow,” Lucifer utters.

“I often wonder why you’re a ruler of Hell,” Alastor insults.

“Oh, fuck off,” Lucifer growls.

“DAD!” Charlie scolds while covering Bella’s ear that didn’t have a earplug in.

“Ugh! It’s been almost an hour and I haven’t blown shit up!” Cherri curses.

“Just roll down the window and get some fresh air,” Vaggie argues.

“Ya know, that’s a great idea!” Cherri chirps while rolling down the window and throw a bomb out into the desert near them.

“Are you fucking kiddin’ me?!” Vaggie barks at Cherri.

“Drive faster, old man!” Alastor barks.

“I don’t want to burn up the gas--”

“Oh, fuck it!” Alastor moves over and sits on Lucifer’s lap, pressing down the gas. The tires squeaks, creating smoke from the engine. It only boosts them forward by an inch.

“See?” Lucifer responds. “Now get your ass off of me!”

Alastor groans and moves off of Lucifer. The explosion blows up, nearly rocking the car side to side.

Husk sighs in discouragement.

“I still need to use the bathroom,” Nifty chirps.

~.~

Ten hours goes by as Husk is asleep at the window sill with Angel sleeping on him, holding him in his four arms like a cat. Nora and Bella fall asleep listening to their music and cuddling each other unknowingly while both Charlie and Vaggie snuggle the kids and each other. Cherri snores the loudest of the group, which keeps both the men up at the front.

Lucifer is still awake and driving, but appears like he can fall asleep. Alastor is still awake and alert, cradling sleeping Nifty in his arms.

“Say, why don’t we get some music in here?” Alastor responds, trying to find a radio. “What the hell? There’s no radio.”

“Because I’ve never installed it,” Lucifer brings up. “Radio is for old people.”

“Says the old man with a van that can’t drive faster than fifteen miles,” Alastor points out.

“Whatever, man. Stick and stones but words can’t hurt,” Lucifer responds.

“I can make them hurt,” Alastor replies with a darker tone.

“Oh, gettin’ horny for me?” Lucifer teases. “Usually when people get close to the Lust Ring, they tend to get horny.”

Alastor widens his eyes and then narrows his brows. “Fuck you.”

“Only if you want to--”

“I’m going to end your fucking life,” Alastor growls, his face growing darker.

Lucifer notices a city ahead of them with a gasp. “Hey, I think we’re here.”

“Finally,” Alastor groans. He takes out his microphone and announces. “Wake up and smell the roses because we’re finally here at the Lust Ring.”

The gang flutters their eyes open when hearing Alastor announcing their arrival to the Lust Ring. Charlie immediately covers Bella’s eyes when she notices people having sex in their rooms out in the open.

“In today’s weather, there will be storm and thirty-five percent chance of cum rain,” Alastor announces.

“There’s no such thing as cum rain,” Lucifer brings up. “It’s just regular raindrops. But those raindrops do get sticky and make people horny.” He says the last line with a small smirk at Alastor.

Alastor gives him a deadpan stare and announces, “Nevermind. There’s a thirty-five percent of horny rain. Make sure you bring umbrellas if you don’t want to fuck each other within five minutes.”

Charlie groans tiredly, still covering Bella’s eyes and ear.

“I give it a minute to work,” Lucifer interrupts.

“Would you butt out my announcements?” Alastor growls.

Lucifer parks the minivan on the curb of available parking spot. “Alright, everyone. Ozzie’s isn’t far off. We can walk from here.”

“Finally, we can stretch our legs,” Angel groans, yawning.

The back doors open as Alastor exits the passenger side with Nifty cradled in his arms.

Lucifer exits the driver side and watch everyone getting out from the backside, having their umbrellas up for extra protection except for Cherri.

The gang walks through the rainy streets of the Lust Ring.

Cherri tries to taste the rain to find it’s sticking on her skin.

Angel smirks to watch people having sex everywhere while shielding both him and Husk from the sticky rain. “Huh, this seems my kind of ring.”

Husk rolls his eyes playfully. “I bet it would be.”

“Let’s all focus on what’s ahead,” Alastor responds with a groan, focusing on straight ahead.

Charlie shields Bella’s eyes and ears by picking her up and placing her face against Charlie’s shoulder while Vaggie uses the umbrella to shield Charlie, Bella, and Nora.

Nora looks around casually at people having sex as if she’s used to seeing it.

“This is not freaking you out?” Vaggie asks Nora.

“My parents fuck each other all the time,” Nora says with a casual tone, earning surprise glances from the rest of the gang.

“Your parents sound badass,” Cherri responds with a bright grin.

“Eh, that’s all that saves their marriage,” Nora replies, not noticing Husk observing her the way she talks about it. Husk frowns at Nora.

Angel loops his arms around Husk’s and notices a sex shop they’re walking by. “If we have time, I would like to have a look at the sex toys. I bet they’re better than what Valentino has.”

“Oh yeah, Oz sells the best sex toys around,” Lucifer responds with a smirk.

“Maybe you can save the information for later when it’s not in front of the kids,” Vaggie informs while showing the kids.

“Oh come on, it’s just a casual conversation,” Angel responds with a hand wave. “I’m sure the kids know something about sex.”

“It’s Hell after all. I’m sure kids know more dirty things than most people in the living realm,” Lucifer adds.

“What’s sex?” Bella asks innocently, causing awkward silence among the group.

“It’s where two people get together and, you know, fuck,” Nora explains casually. “That’s how babies are born.”

Vaggie gives Nora a withering glare. “You don’t have to put it that way.”

“Well, it’s more than just people getting together,” Lucifer replies. “It’s suppose to be a beautiful thing that the pure angels create for purity sake for a husband and a wife. And we fucked it up.”

“Can we talk about anything else other than talking about sex?” Alastor groans irritably. “That would be lovely.”

“Just trying to explain it to a kid,” Lucifer responds with his arms crossed. “Look, there’s Ozzie’s ahead. I wouldn’t bring the kids in though since it’s mostly for adults.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll stay out here with them,” Charlie volunteers while staying outside with the kids and Vaggie.

“You know what, I’ll stay out here with the girls,” Alastor volunteers while cradling Nifty.

“Well, looks like the rest of you are with me,” Lucifer says as he leads the Cherri, Husk, and Angel to the club.

The bouncer notices them approaching and stops them. “Can’t come in unless you got a date.”

Lucifer leans over to Cherri to whisper, “Wanna be my date?”

“Ew, no,” Cherri utters.

Lucifer looks at Angel and Husk sticking together with a slow smirk coming up on his face. “Why don’t you gentlemen go in first since you’re on a ‘date’?”

Angel and Husk blush and glance at each other.

“You comin’ in or not?” the bouncer orders Husk and Angel.

“Uh s-sure, we’re comin’ in,” Angel says, holding onto Husk’s arm.

With a deep breath, Husk walks with Angel through the club before anyone come to the club.

Lucifer waves over the incoming crowd coming into the club for Angel to see. “WE’LL MEET YOU OUTSIDE OF OZZIE’S OFFICE!!! JUST GET OZZIE’S ATTENTION BY PRETENDING TO MAKE-OUT! AND REALLY GET INTO IT!!!”

“WAIT, WHAT?!” Husk and Angel shouts simultaneously.

“BEST OF LUCK!!!” Lucifer yells, whistling wildly.

Angel and Husk exchange awkward glance.

“Did he say to make-out?” Angel asks nervously.

“Pretend to make-out,” Husk responds.

Angel smirks at Husk. “And I’m not even dressed for our date. Cover for me, won’t you?”

“Uh--” Husk immediately sees Angel undressing himself from his bathrobe. He expands his umbrella to cover Angel’s nakedness so that people wouldn’t get a peek at Angel from behind. Angel whips out a gold dress, putting it on as quick as he can. Husk looks away while Angel applies golden eyeshadow and blushes. He puts on a gold lipstick and puts mascara on, making his eyelashes fuller like a woman.

“Mind zipping up for me, Husky?”

Husk glances to see Angel in his gold silk dress, wearing a pearl necklace along with a black collar. His chest fluff puffs up in the gold dress. The dress goes down below his knees, making it flow a bit. His golden eyeshadow matches his dress, golden lipstick glimmers in the light. Husk’s face goes red at the sight of Angel.

“W-What?” Husk questions, caught off guard by Angel’s appearance.

“Zip up my dress, silly,” Angel says while turning his back for Husk to zip up. Husk holds the umbrella with his inner forearm, zipping up Angel’s dress.

Angel whips out a black suit jacket and white buttoned-up shirt out from his chest fluff, giving to Husk to put it on.

Husk, understanding the assignment, gives Angel the umbrella to help cover himself from onlookers behind them. He takes the overall straps off of his shoulders and puts on his white buttoned up shirt, letting his wings fitting through the holes cut for him.

“I bought it for you since you don’t have much jackets and shirts,” Angel responds with a smile.

“Yeah, don’t wear much except for pants,” Husk replies while buttoning up his shirt.

“Oh, I almost forgot something,” Angel says while getting the red tie out of his chest fluff. “Here you go.”

Husk puts on the overall straps over his shoulders again once he buttoned up his white shirt, putting on the jacket and tie as the final product.

However he struggles to put the tie on.

“Damn it,” Husk growls impatiently.

“Here, let me help you, Husky~” Angel lifts Husk up against the wall.

Husk can’t believe how close Angel is, his mind running different miles. His face gets more beet red the closer Angel’s face inch towards him. Though, he looks down to see Angel helping tying his tie just right.

Angel let Husk down, closing the umbrella for both of them. He notices Husk’s face redder than a red skies of Hell. “What do you think I was going to do?”

“I-I--I don’t know,” Husk stutters, his crotch going hard for a moment.

Angel looks ahead to see the club ahead. “We’re here.”

Husk gulps while holding Angel’s hand.

~.~

The music thumps on the walls of the club as Husk and Angel enters the club. Husk feels light-headed from the sudden aroma in the room. He looks to find couple making out with each other on the tables.

“Let’s sit over here,” Angel points at the empty table.

Husk doesn’t pay attention, smelling the lavender scented aroma that’s driving him crazy. He nods carelessly as they both sit at the empty table.

Husk looks at Angel outshining the lights of the room by his golden dress. He doesn’t pay attention to his surroundings or the waiter coming to the table to take their orders. Hell, he can’t hear the words Angel says except,

“Is there anything you want, Husky?” Angel asks Husk casually.

“Huh? You,” Husk blurts out.

Angel widens his eyes in shock. Then he smirks. “I mean for food, silly.”

“Shit, uh, salmon, please?” Husk requests.

“We’ll get those orders for you,” the waiter responds and walks off.

Angel notices Husk holding his head. “What’s going on with ya? You’re not usually like this.”

“The scent in the room is fucking with my head,” Husk responds, breathing heavily from the heat in his room without being aware of being hard more.

Angel notices Husk’s hard-on and smirks. “You need help down there, Husky?”

“Huh?”

“You’re going hard.”

He looks down and covers his crotch. “Don’t you even think about it.”

“Hey, at least I asked,” Angel responds with a smirk. “Are you sure you don’t want to make-out right now?”

“Not until this Oz guy shows up,” Husk responds. “Where the hell is he?”

The room goes dark, leaving Angel’s gold dress to glimmer in the blue lights. The blue smoke appears on the stage before them. The jester imp with robotic limbs hidden under the fun clothes appears on stage. His white face with a red round nose and blush cheeks glistens in the pure white light on stage. His clown hat covers his broken horns while holding the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he announces. “I see some sexy faces around here tonight!”

The platforms with the poles hangs down while the strippers were on it.

Angel widens his eyes in shock and amazement while the clown imp announces.

“Welcome, welcome to Ozzie’s! Here you can play your sick fucked up fantasies!” the clown responds. “My name is Fizzarolli. Some of you may know me as that clown in Loo-Loo Land or those sex bots at the Porn Studios in the Pride Ring!”

“Huh, I always wondered what those robot servants were modeled after,” Angel mutters to himself.

Husk isn’t listening, trying to search for Ozzie.

“Asmodeus, the King of Lust, is in the midst of getting ready. But while we wait for Ozzie, mind if I tell ya a few jokes? Remember the extermination that happens four months ago? I know that it ain’t got no affect on us since we’re hellborn, but can you believe it, the king and his daughter of hell fought the fucking angels just to save a hotel to help sinners! The joke isn’t even on the hotel or the king and princess themselves. It’s more on the angels thinking that they can actually defeat Lucifer and his daughter! And Adam--that first dick of all dicks--got fucking stab by the petite maid!”

The demon imps laugh at the joke of the extermination except for Angel and Husk.

“The hotel is a fucking waste of time!” one of the audience calls out.

Fizzarolli shakes his head. “Now, now, I respect Little Charlie’s--I mean, the princess’ work. I don’t think trying to redeem sinners is possible, buuut you know, anything is possible down here. Speaking of possibilities, let’s give it up for Asmodeus! GIVE HIM SOME LOVE!!!”

The audience cheers as the smoke appears, a song beginning while a giant burly muscular blue diamon appear, his hair flames with two other faces. He has two giant feather sticking up, one red and one white. He takes off his shirt, to show off his muscles. Then he sings,

“Let’s begin now.

Oh, you come here to party!

Oh, you come here to get fuckin’!

Let me tell ya, you’ve come to the right place.”

He starts to dance in the music, sweeping the room with blue smoke that now makes Husk’s headache worse. Angel coughs from the smoke as this King of Lust named Ozzie continues to sing.

“If ya like blowjobs.

If ya like makin’ out.

If ya like to have sex.

Then you’ve come to the right place!”

Angel widens his smile more. “Holy fuck! This is insane!”

Ozzie sings, shaking his hips in a sexy manner.

“In the House of Lust,

You can find all of the pleasures in the world.

In the House of Lust,

You don’t have to worry about public appropriation!

Just give each other some love, mhm!

Go on now!”

Angel blinks in surprise. “Wait, is that a cue to make-out now?”

Husk rubs his soothing headache. “Wait, what?”

“Lucifer says to make-out to get Ozzie’s attention,” Angel points out while Ozzie is dancing on the pole pointing at those demons who were getting into sex.

“Fuck,” Husk utters in shock. “How do we go about this? Uh, do I kiss first or do we just take our clothes off right away? Ooh, I don’t like the thought of that--”

Angel smirks at Husk. “You’re talking as if you’ve never done this.”

“Yeah, because I’m a fucking virgin,” Husk blurts out to Angel.

Angel looks in shock. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah!”

Angel smirks. “Guess we’re going to have to fix that whenever you’re ready.”

Ozzie continues to sing.

“They say love is in the air,

But it’s getting too heated in here,

Just for romantic lovers to fall in love.

So, let’s say this again!”

Ozzie points to a female demon imp giving a male imp a blowjob under the table.

“If ya like blow-jobs!”

Ozzie points to a male demon imp making out with a transman demon imp.

“If ya like makin’ out!”

Ozzie points out the couple under the table, moaning loudly for the patrons to hear around them.

“If ya like havin’ a mind-blowing sex,

You’ve come to the right place!”

Ozzie sings the chorus, almost ending the song.

“In the House of Lust,

You can find all of the pleasures in the world.

In the House of Lust,

You don’t have to worry about public appropriation!

Just give each other some love, mhm!

Go on now!”

Husk breaths heavily while Angel tugs at his suit jacket. “S-So how do we go on about this--?”

“Trust me,” Angel whispers into Husk’s face, kissing his lips.

Husk gasps in shock, not sure what to do.

Angel breaks away. “You’re so inexperience with kissing.”

“I never had anyone kiss me--”

“Hmm, maybe I can fix that just for tonight,” Angel whispers while kissing his lips again.

Once Angel breaks away, Husk gains his breath.

“Wait, wait, this doesn’t mean anything between us, right?”

“Unless you want it to mean something between us,” Angel whispers into his ears.

“Shit,” Husk utters as Angel kisses him. Husk is so inexperience that he doesn’t know how to kiss someone’s lips.

Angel parts his lips. “Do this, Husky.” He demonstrates his pucker lips to kiss back with his lips.

Husk nods in understanding, letting Angel crash his lips into his again.

He flutters his eyes close, feeling Angel’s four hands roaming around his body. Surprisingly, Angel isn’t taking the opportunity to try to get into his pants, which he is mostly relieved of. Though, with this scent going into his brain, he is also surprised that he didn’t mind if Angel did try to unbuckle his jeans and do a blowjob. Shit, what is going on with him?

He feels Angel’s tongue trying to get into his mouth. His lips close at first, but he opens them, letting Angel gain access to his mouth. This means nothing. This should mean nothing between them. Just drinking buddies, on a ‘date’, making out to get some higher-up demon’s attention. That means nothing by the end of the day, right?

Husk and Angel separate from each other, gaining their breaths back.

“You’re doing good,” Angel whispers to him, his lips teasingly close to Husk’s. “Now kiss me like you mean it, baby.”

Angel kisses Husk’s lips, now passionately. Husk kisses back, grabbing the back of Angel’s head with his one hand while his other hand grabs Angel’s hip. Angel’s four hands now roam around Husk’s body greedily, with one of them feeling his hard-on and squeezing it.

Husk gasps and moans in surprise, his brain too fucked up to care. They fall onto the floor, knocking over their chairs.

“Fuck me,” Husk responds, too high from the aroma in the room.

Angel widens his eyes in surprise. This gives Angel the perfect time to make love to Husk if Angel wasn’t change after the extermination. But when Husk complains about the scent hurting his head earlier, he isn’t sure if he should.

A soft smirk comes up on his lips and leans forward. “Later, Husky~”

Angel starts to kiss Husk’s face, kissing his neck and sucking on it softly.

Husk moans and feels Angel’s hand going into his pants just to rub it up and down. Husk moans louder, gaining attention from both Ozzie and Fizz.

He stares up at the ceiling, watching all the colorful patterns up there before Ozzie and Fizz came into the view.

“Yeah! There you go!” Ozzie encourages.

Angel sits straight up in shock.

“Don’t let us stop you. Keep it going!” Ozzie responds happily.

“Actually, um, we need your help,” Angel utters. “It’s about my contract with Val.”

Ozzie arches a brow. “Wait a minute, are you Angel Dust?”

Angel nods.

Ozzie glances at Fizz. “Babe, take them to my office. I’m sure Lucifer is waiting there already. I’ll meet you up there.”

“Alright, babe,” Fizz replies while helping Angel get Husk up on his feet.

As Ozzie continues to entertain his guests, Fizz hurries both Angel and Husk out of the room. Finally the scent goes away.

To Be Continued...

#angel dust #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel: the contract of blood #nifty hazbin hotel #vaggie hazbin hotel #cherri hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer

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nashusglasses · 8 months

Text

2. i'll work it physical (m)

+ based off nsfw prompts: 28. “I’ll make it worth your time.” & 15. “Wanna bet?”

read: part one

note: I am a glutton for horny idiot stories. Even better when they feed off each other’s energy so bad it’s just like…. Constant enabling. GOADING. That’s the word!!!! I listened to loveeeeeee song by rihanna the whole time writing this if ur into that :3

note 2: This fic is just pure indulgence of oc and gojo's party sexcapades before all those *feelings* get involved heheheheh

PAIRING. gojo/reader SETTING. college au WARNINGS. stupid ex girlfriends, good ol' fashioned fingerbang in a bathroom SUMMARY. He’ll make you forget about her.

You didn’t cry when Emi broke up with you. She was always taciturn, and it’s not as if you were completely blindsided, either. You’ve always had a nose for disinterest. She’d stopped responding to your good night texts those last few weeks you were together, kept canceling Wednesday cafe dates where you’d play footsies to distract her from doing homework. Maybe you’d reached a threshold. Footsied her to annoyed oblivion, but she always laughed whenever you did it.

Throwing away an almost-one year relationship, though. You couldn’t lie through the sting in your eyes when you got back to your dorm that night. Not when Natsume’s a nosy bitch who has to know every minute detail of your life. You collapsed into a fit of half-sobs because you refused to be too distraught over someone who couldn’t find the time for you anymore. That’s lazy, Natsume said into your hair. You always liked when she petted your head for comfort. She let you sleep next to her while you wallowed in post-break up misery. I’ll punch her the next time I see her.

That was two months ago. Two months since you’ve seen Emi’s dyed-blonde head, the pretty dimples that came with her smile. It changes tonight.

Sigma Phi is never cheap with their ragers. Neither you or Natsume are in a sorority but you’d be dumb to miss out on sponsored alcohol and free cool ranch Doritos. The house is the tallest on Greek row, all high ceilings and shiny wooden banisters. The kitchen is where you keep comfortable. Away from the strawberry smoke, sticky floors everywhere you take a step. You’re waiting for Satoru to get you your soju when you see Emi walk through the front door.

Her roots are growing out. She’s got glitter on her eyelids, a shiny neck with the scented oil she uses because she’s always hated using perfume. If you step close enough you know she’ll smell like rose petals. Like the sailor’s bewitched limbs twitching with every sweet note of that siren’s song, you’re almost taking a step forward to follow her further into this stupid loud party.

As if he’s cued, Satoru gets in the way with two red cups in hand. “No yogurt soju so I got orange instead. Mixed it with orange soda so it’s ultra mega orange shit. Why the hell are you tiptoeing? You’re like two feet tall.”

“Shut up.” You make a grab for the cup he offers you, tipping back a generous gulp for a show of thanks. “It’s—I saw someone. I think.”

He swivels around. “Who?”

“My ex.” You almost flinch at the term. Moreso at the thought of Satoru calling you bitchless than having lost someone you genuinely cared for.

“Didn’t know you had one.” His eyebrows are furrowed with confusion, leaning back against the counter. He flicks an annoyed hand at the stale chips scattered everywhere.

“It’s. Yeah. She wasn’t really around to show face towards the end, so.”

“What’s her name?”

You could think of a million but you don’t feel like spitting venom. You’ve got your distraction for the night. You hope Satoru notices you’re wearing your shortest skirt. “Emi.”

“Emi? Utada Emi or Hirano Emi?”

“The first one.” How he knows more than one is beyond you. Satoru hums at your confirmation.

“She’s in my aerodynamics class,” he says. “What happened?”

“I don’t—I don’t really wanna talk about her.” Because if you do, you’ll probably start thinking about how she made your pillows smell good with that fresh linen scent. Or how she left you little origami cranes on your desk. Or the way she sounded in the morning with drool stuck to her chin—

“Oi.” Satoru snaps his fingers in front of your face. “You good? Sorry I asked.”

“It’s fine. Or. Not really. Whatever.” You finish your drink with record speed. Anxiety crawls through your chest, makes you wonder what the hell Emi could be doing here. Or who she could be doing here. Suddenly you think about an empty room, her clumsy feet traipsing up those carpeted stairs. Looking at someone else with doe eyes like she did when she wanted you on top of her. You crush the red plastic in your hand.

“Satoru,” you say blankly.

He’s not even halfway done his drink. “Uh huh.”

“Do you know how to make a girl come in five minutes?”

“Depends.” He levels you with a curious stare. Like he’s bracing himself for whatever you’ve got for a challenge. “Can I use my hands?”

“Whatever body part you want.”

“Then yes. Who’s asking?”

“Wha–who the hell else?” You hiss. “You finishing that?”

Satoru looks down at his cup, then back up at you. And when he doesn’t immediately respond you just swipe at his hand to guzzle down the ultra mega orange shit. It’s not half-bad. A sweetness easy to swallow, not like the Casamigos he took with Suguru earlier.

You let the dizziness settle. Satoru stares you down. “I’ll do it in two,” he says. “Wanna bet?”

It’s cryptic. And then you remember what you asked him. You squirm with the heavy suggestion.

“Bathroom,” you order, and Satoru leads the way first.

Natsume’s sitting pretty at the bottom step of the stairs. She’s got a blunt pinched gently in her mouth, lights up with her inhale when she sees you. She dims into gossip when you come up to her. “Oh my god. Did you see–”

You nod, not that keen on hearing her name when you’re off to forget it. Satoru skips past and up two steps at a time with nothing more than a hey roomie. Natsume’s mouth quirks up in acknowledgment.

“Don’t scream too loud. Or do anyway. I can’t feel my fucking fingers from the music.”

She slaps your ass when you pass her. “Take a shot with me after,” you call. Natsume winks. Satoru’s got the bathroom door wide open for you to walk through when you catch up.

For a frat, the space is clean. No nasty caulk jobs and the toilet paper holder’s actually full. You’ve got no time for more analysis when Satoru slams you against the door. “Jesus,” you groan.

He swallows what little else you have for complaint. His mouth is sweet on yours, coaxing your tongue for taste. “Nice skirt by the way.”

Satoru’s hands are greedy where they pull. Cupped under your jaw, teasing a touch on either side of your tits, then right down to your ass where he squeezes. Hard.

“Keep going,” you mumble. Biting down on his lip when he grips you tighter, and you feel the coarse rut of his boner when he presses you harder against the door. “God. Get me wet.”

“I’ll make it worth your time.” He breathes wet kisses on your neck. Sucking deep till you twitch in simmering pleasure.

“You fuckin’ better.”

He sneers in response. But he kisses you like he’s just as electrified. Needy for whatever high he’s promising to deliver on, and you want it fast. He juts into you, lifts your leg around his hip just to get the angle right.

“Okay. Fuck–just.” You take his hand, fit it snug where your panties ride up on your pussy. He laughs against your teeth.

“Get me wet,” he mocks, playing with the arousal you just denied. You blush. Desperate measures. You’re glad your body responds to his this quick. Only to your detriment, because he knows you’re terrible at bluffing, and now he’s laughing at you. “You’re funny. Two minutes?”

He circles your clit with a rough finger. Too much, not enough. In the haze of your muddled head, the visual is enough to spark that heat. You’ve always liked his hands. There’s something about seeing it disappear under your skirt, like you’ve got something to hide. You offer a moan when he teases a finger inside.

Satoru leans a hot mouth into your ear. “Your girl ever get you like this?”

Your eyes are wide open. From his provocation, and now he’s got one finger snug up your pussy. “Oh my god.”

“You don’t need to answer,” he teases. “I know she didn’t.”

“You–” He sets a slow rhythm. Deep where it counts, grinding the palm of his hand till you moan from your chest. “You’re evil.”

Again. He knows you’re bluffing. That wet sound every time he moves is proof enough. You’re just talking because you’re not embarrassed anymore. You’ll let him have his way with it if it means you don’t have to think about anything else.

“Don’t be shy,” he prods.

Another finger, this time with less drive. You buzz from the intrusion. Knocking your head back on the door when he bottoms out, absolutely not shy with the sounds you’re making. Satoru kisses you into muted excitement.

You don’t think he’s timing it. You sure as hell aren’t. As if you were ever scared he wouldn’t deliver. “Go faster,” you urge. This is probably one of the only two bathrooms available for use. You could at least taint it quicker than anyone else can.

“Cute. I like when you’re bossy.” You initiate a kiss this time. Slipping tongue and an indulgent moan down his throat, and that’s what spurs him on.

His drive is back. Drawing out more wetness with earnest fingering, the guttural noises straight from your gut. Your eyes roll back with the feeling, heat unfurling faster than the blood trying to reach your fucked out brain.

“Fuck, oh my god.” Your fingers curl into his biceps. “That's–yeah, oh my god I’m. Close–!”

He crowds you in again, forehead on your sweaty one. Nothing to say, letting your panting do all the talking for the both of you. His fingers hook into every wet spot, ramming the edge of his hand on your clit till it’s battered into ultra-sensitivity. You twitch with his every move.

“You better fuckin’ come over tonight,” Satoru groans. You’ll look down at that hard dick later. You know he’s fostering the pain with quiet lips. How considerate.

“W-Whatever. Yes I’ll–just–oooh fuck.” He’s jacked the speed to eleven. No more pretense of easing you into it. The sound is enough to get you off, wet thrust for wet thrust. “Satoru,” you whine.

He kisses your nose. “Hmm?”

“If I squirt it’s on you,” you warn.

“You say that like a threat.” He shows no sign of stopping, too. He’s impatient with anticipation, and you’re fading fast. “You’ll give it to me?”

You were kidding. Sort of. It’s not off the table. All you know is the heat is building and you’re about to explode. “Ye-es!”

“So do it,” he presses.

He curls his fingers with every sharp jut against your core. You hang your head low, letting that high come to you, and you unfurl with the release. Shaking through a tiring orgasm, clawing tight on Satoru while you squeal. “Oh fuck.”

He’s relentless with the come down. Drawing out those waves with taut fingers, focusing deep. You don’t squirt but his wrist is disgustingly wet.

“You’re hot,” he says when you drop your leg. You slump against him with a groan. “Look. Prune fingers.”

You don’t look but you know he’s wiggling them. Always in awe with what he can do to you when you’re down for it. You’ll let him bask in your orgasmic glory, because you’re just as good as getting him undone.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s get back, I wanna see Natsume before we leave.”

You shift your skirt till it's decently covering your ass again. Satoru washes his hands. You both ignore the bulge in his sweatpants.

Then someone knocks on the door.

You think you’ve always believed in fate. Some cosmic divinity keeping a watchful eye on whatever energy waves you’re spreading out into the universe. Because when Satoru opens the door for you, it’s Emi, and she’s looking disheveled, but not in a good way.

A pang of sympathy echoes in your chest. Your fingers twitch forward, already thinking of how to move her hair behind her ear.

Satoru beats you to a greeting.

“You look like shit,” he jests.

Emi ignores him. Stares right at you, and your breath stutters. You’re not as taken by her beauty, this time. Not when she shot you down, dug her heel into your heart, got it all muddy. You grab Satoru's hand. He doesn’t say anything when you curl your fingers into his.

“Take care of yourself,” is all you croak out. This time, it’s you leaving her behind.

Natsume’s gone from her bottom perch. You don’t feel like finding her anymore. Satoru keeps you close to him when you walk back downstairs.

He stops you when you don’t stop walking towards the front door. For the second time tonight, he asks: “You good?”

You shake your head. “No. But we’re going back to your place. Distract me some more.”

Satoru’s smile is wicked in its suggestion. “I can do that,” he confirms.

He doesn’t let go of your hand the whole way back to his dorm.

#gojo scenario #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #gojo scenarios

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Text

【 glittering desires 】

author's note: here we go, this is the homage to the fact that fairy gala leona actually came home :'))) look this card is pretty but it was also pretty expensive haha- also we don't talk abt how fast i wrote this after i got the inspo... anyways. i hope you have fun reading this bc i sure had fun writing it !

characters: gn! prefect, leona kingscholar

word count: 1.6k

tags: leona is a bully /lh, your honor this man is madly in love, no bc he's so mushy and for what ??, he's 100% whipped, bc he's leona there's banter, he sees the prefect and he's like "wow sparkly...i love them..." that's it, that's the fic.

[ or read it on ao3 | the fairy gala collection ]

When he woke up from his nap, it was to the sound of their voice. At first, he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him; giving him dreams that were too far out of his reach. Dreams spun of laughter that were far too sweet to ever be fully his. Mere fantasies that Leona couldn't even believe in, let alone grasp.

And it was annoying how often he found himself dreaming of them lately. Especially after this stupid, annoying task that the damn crow assigned them. So he grunted, pressing his eyes shut further; hoping that the image of them would finally disappear.

That was until he felt the tug on his leg, "Leo~na? Are you still asleep? Geez, how did you even make it up there?"

Ah. That was the real them, wasn't it?

Weighted eyelids eased open, watching as they clambered up the tree to get to him. He made no attempt to move; keeping his tail as still as he could. Instead, he watched— thoroughly amused— as they huffed, finally managing to haul themself onto a nearby branch.

He chose that moment to finally speak, "Crewel's gonna flip if you get that dirty."

Their shoulders jolted, " Sevens– How long have you been awake for?"

"Just now," Leona yawned, giving his neck a stretch. "What're you doing here?" He watched with unease as they situated themself on the branch. He reached for his magic pen, just in case.

"I was looking for you," They chuckled lightly. "Vil-senpai was flipping his lid over you escaping while he wasn't looking. He asked me to look for you."

"And?" Leona had to thank Vil for this opportunity. It wasn't often that he got time alone with them. "Did he think a herbivore like you could take me back there?"

"Stop being childish," They tutted, and the decorations on their clothes clinked as they moved. "You know Vil-senpai's only being harsh because we don't have much time. And besides, you're the centerpiece of our show."

"Damn right I am," Leona said, infusing his words with arrogance as a ploy. "And this star needs some rest from that guy's tyranny."

"C'mon, I'll accompany you back and watch your practice," They bargained, holding out a hand. And Leona considered it for a moment. Having them there would be better than not having them there. But that kind of deal was too easy.

He raised a brow, "You think that's gonna work?"

"Mmm, Ruggie-senpai told me to try it out," There was a foolish smile on their face. It made Leona look away; frustrated from how unaware they were. "Guess he was wrong."

"'Course he was."

"So then how will I get this great and mighty Leona-sama back to the practice rooms?" A hand was placed exaggeratedly on their chin.

Leona jumped down before they could say another word. It was better to let them trip over themselves to think of how to repay him. After all, the person who wants something is always at a disadvantage. They just had more to lose.

He brushed off his pants, untangling the sash before sparing them a glance, "You coming?"

"Wh- it took me five minutes to get up here-! Hey, don't leave without me!" Leona paused. His sharp eyes didn't miss a glint in the grass, pocketing the item as he waited. His ears twitched slightly, making sure that they didn't just face-plant on the ground.

A moment later and they were next to him, complaining all the while, "Why are you suddenly...no, this is a good thing. But–"

"Just changed my mind," The corner of his lips twitched at their blatant disbelief. "What? Even stubborn lions can change their minds sometimes."

They made it into the hallways of Pomefiore before they spoke again, "I'm still trying to figure out your angle."

"There's no angle," Leona said, and their eyes narrowed at him like he was crazy.

"Ah wait," They stopped in their tracks, patting down their front. "I almost forgot about this." In their hands were the...weeds that Leona had in his hair. Crewel and Vil had called it an "avant-garde masterpiece of a hair accessory" but really, it looked like a weed to Leona.

"Go and sit," They tilted their head towards the throne in the center of the Pomefiore lounge.

He scoffed, "No way. There's literally a normal chair right there."

And him? Sitting on that shiny excuse of a throne? The very one Vil sat on? Definitely not. Even if a small part of him longed for a throne of his own, that...thing was no throne. It was a toy for make-believe at best.

They tugged at his arm, "Come on, I bet everyone wants to sit in that at least once." Their eyes met his; twinkling mischievously, "Are you scared someone will see? Everyone's at their clubs right now."

"Fucking– just...do it quick," He grumbled, settling onto the velvet plushness of the so-called throne.

His mouth pressed into a firm line as they drew closer, trepidation crawling under his skin. Their fingers brushed through his hair lightly at first. Then gaining confidence, till they were combing through the brown strands thoroughly.

As they leaned in closer, he watched as they eclipsed the brightness of the chandelier; basking him in their shadow. They were close enough that Leona could smell the scent of flowery perfume clinging onto their clothes; no doubt courtesy of Vil.

They weren't looking at him. No, they were far too focused on his hair. It was a good thing, really. Because if they were looking at him...well, Leona wouldn't know how they would react.

Emerald eyes traced over their features: the concentrated crease of their brows, the curve of their cheek, and the length of their nose. The slightest part of their lips, the slow rise and fall of their shoulders almost lulling him into a sense of calm. He clutched at the chair, trying to ward off his observations to no avail.

Sevens, he wanted to kiss them. So badly. But he couldn't. Not here, and definitely not now. And not when he knew there was a big chance that they would never see him the same.

Instead, he reached a hand up, brushing firmly at their shoulder. That caused them to flinch in surprise, their gaze finally meeting his. His lips parted; throat feeling oddly dry, "There was somethin' there."

"Oh," Their eyes darted to his hand and back. "I think that might be glitter. Grim spilled a whole bunch of it on me earlier."

"Glitter," He repeated. "That's why you're so...shiny." He tried to ignore the halo of light that wrapped around the crown of their head, making them a monarch in their own right. Even if all they ruled over was his heart.

"You say that like you aren't shining yourself, Mr. Centerpiece," There was one last touch to their hair before they finally pulled back. Leona breathed out a long sigh of relief. "And done. Now it doesn't look like you rolled around in the bushes."

"Hah. As if that guy won't grill me anyway for disappearing," He stood up, trying to get the feeling back in his fingers from how hard he was gripping the chair. "C'mon, lead the way."

"You say that like you haven't been going there every day for this past week." They say that. They say that and yet they still held his sleeve as they lead the way.

"'M not a kid, herbivore," Leona said, though he made no move to brush them off. Rather, he enjoyed the sight of them leading him for once.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm trying to make sure you don't decide to slip away again," They said as they reached the room. "Now go and accept your fate. Running away is futile at this point." He stepped in front of them, reluctant to enter the room.

"Hey," He waited till they were finally looking at him again. He wanted to say a simple 'thank you'. That was what you said to people who you wanted to thank, right?

But what came out instead was, "You almost lost this." He pulled out the thing he had pocketed earlier. One of their bracelets. He could hazard a guess as to how they dropped it; probably during their earlier tree climbing.

They searched their wrists, eyes wide, "That's...one of my bracelets."

"Good of you to notice," Leona slipped it onto his own wrist. "Come find me after my practice is over 'n I'll give it back. You owe me, alright herbivore?"

"So there was a catch," He heard them mutter to themself. "Bastard."

His tail was high in the air as he lumbered into the practice room from hell. Kalim was in the corner doing squats, for some reason. And Vil was focused on Jamil. Though he was sure that Vil didn't miss his entrance. Leona took his place near one of the windows, heaving a sigh as he cast a spell to fill the vases with water.

Well, he had to say it was worth the trouble this time. After he finished his laps and tuned in for a lecturing by Vil, he had a, mm, meeting with the herbivore. Their bracelet made a light clink as he started his first lap. Leona felt a smile slowly suffuse his usually-indifferent expression. Ah, he really couldn't wait after all.

thank you for reading Leona Being Painfully In Love the musical fic !! i hope you enjoyed :DD if you did, go check out my masterlist or the rest of the fairy gala collection !

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whumpsoda · 2 months

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WOHEO Masterlist Because it’s Valentines Day (ignoring the fact that it’s kinda late just because I just did this super quick and I would’ve felt bad not doing SOMETHING for them) here’s a little thing I guess… please ignore how bad this is lmao

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“I love you, baby.”

Adrastus purred in a cloudy whisper, stroking gentle fingers in a soft path from the other vampire’s temples to his chin. “Happy Valentines Day.”

Darius’ head twirled around with the brush of their touch, his frame melted into the leather behind him and eyes fixed on the ceiling. “That’s today I suppose, hm?”

Their other hand was pressed to his chest, faintly kneading the young, skin tight flesh that would never truly reflect his old age. “Yes, baby. Aren’t you just elated?” Their lashes sweetly fluttered as their eyelids shut, placing their forehead to Darius’ sharp shoulder.

“Not really.” He muttered. His tone was low and calm, tired and not putting much thought into his words. “Holidays are pointless.”

It was a truthful statement. After decades of undead living and nights seemingly blending together, it proved difficult and meaningless to keep up with dates. He hadn’t checked a calendar in well over a decade.

Darius winced as their delicate hand attempted to slip the stem of a vibrant, richly red rose into the crack between his ear and face, failing miserably as their terrible aim stuck the pointy thing every which way. “Hey, you’re messing with my hair.” He scolded, lazily batting away their arm.

A following pause of stillness stuck out like a sore thumb after hours of petting, soft touch and honeyed whispers. Darius rolled his heavy head right up from the back of his seat, drowsily shifting himself sitting back upright.

His gaze lazily fell to the vampire tucked against him, curled up cutely in his lap. Adrastus pouted solemnly, cheek nuzzled into the dips and folds of his shirt. They looked away, lashes obscuring their pupils, obviously avoiding eye contact out of hurt.

For a moment, Darius froze in rigid bewilderment, his thickly crafted composure loosening under the risk of having upset his partner. “Adrastus,” He spit, voice shamefully unsteady. “I didn’t- you can give it to Malak! Or something… Okay?”

It was difficult to help how stupid he sounded.

“I wanted to give it to you.” They mumbled, watching intently of the rose as they leisurely twirled it between their fingers. “I picked you a whole bunch of beautiful flowers from the garden for the occasion.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m… my- my apologies. I guess… I didn’t realize.” Why were apologies so terribly embarrassing?

Adrastus leaned into the pat of his palm to the top of their hair, not reluctant of the touch in the slightest. Reveling in it, almost.

As Darius followed them twisting their head around his hand, as he had done only moments prior, they soon pressed a slight kiss to his pointer finger. A sly smile was crawling over their face.

“Oh baby, I know you didn’t. I just wanted your attention.” They admitted, no guilt present. Adrastus was obviously pleased with themself, sneaking their way back up Darius’ midsection till the two were level with one another.

How manipulative. How wickedly, sensually, attractively manipulative. A grin snuck its way across the man’s recently guilt coated lips.

“Like I didn’t know that.” Both of their light laughs danced around in a sweet mixture of affection as Adrastus climbed their way further on top of him. They pulled the two’s bellies close, their arms holding tight around his neck. He twitched at the tickle of flower petals skimming his skin.

Darius was the first to connect their lush lips, both hands cupping Adrastus’ pajama covered waist. The kiss was quick and kind, not deep and fierce like often but still coated with love.

As soon as their mouths parted, Adrastus was quick to plant several more sugary, lipstick stained pecks to his porcelain cheeks, which swiftly trailed all the way to his jutting collar bones.

Even as he knew they meant to continue all the way down his bust, Darius smoothly pushed them back before they could, forcing their vision to meet once again. He ever so carefully plucked a string of dark hair out of their eyes and back into place, looking to Adrastus so uncharacteristically adoring their face flushed with warmth.

“Happy Valentine's Day, dear.”

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Taglist- @softvampirewhump @iys-cloud @battyfantasy @xx-adam-xx

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#we only have each other #Adrastus oc #Darius oc #vampire oc #vampire #vampire whumper #My writing

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ichxbod · 2 years

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Queen of the vilebloods | Aemond and Daemon

Previous: Omen / next:

Tags: canon incest, description of wounds and scars, mention of sexual scenarios, insinuation of sex?, hint of dub-con (it is only thought), narrated in third person from Aemond's perspective.

Word count: 4600.

A/N: God, it's been a long time coming. Sorry for the wait, more than half of the draft was lost and I have a very bad memory so I didn't feel it looked as good as the first version.

Side note, this will slowly get more AU, in case that bothers anyone.

For any mistakes, sorry. English is not my first language

01: Tales of old, the night unfurls.

«Like a dark stain on his family doomed to chaos and chaos, Aemond knew that he had always been the most focused of them all, the least flawed part in sight.

His brother was an absolute bane. Lost in his mediocrity; faint-hearted. The idea that he, of all people, had to remind him why marrying his sister was the right way to go had driven a wedge between them from his own side of the bond, cracking it. Not only did Aegon not deserve the throne his mother wanted so badly to force down his throat, Aegon didn't even want it.

Aemond thought for the first time while he could still reason his uncle's actions that night, a man who had only been shaped by stories and gossip behind thin walls had taken shape into something to admire, the desire to emulate that in years to come would become a yearning to surpass.

Aemond was close to Daemon for far more reasons than he first through».

When the day Aemond lost his left eye happened, the resolution that came with the end of the night was far more full of advantage than misfortune.

The pain was cumbersome, crawling through his senses and making his skull seem to fracture in spasms of acute suffering. The inherent lack of one of his eyes was an anxiety that came and went in the pit of his stomach, the pulsing of his blood clutching his throat shut and building gagging; it was a dead spot, an empty socket and a tattered eyelid of flesh that they had had to pull together so that the damage would not be greater.

Even with all this, Aemond found himself with a feverish spirit burning beneath his flesh. The dragon was his, it had responded to him, an eye for it seemed a fair price to pay, it had to be a fair price to pay.

He would accurately recall that thought process as the night wore on and he secluded himself amidst the rough stone steps, the thought of Daemon's presence settling in his mind, the unique possibility of discovering what had been his irrepressible quest ever since he could roam the castle without safety. It was why, when he followed the man once he appeared in his field of view, with utter stupidity and recklessness, that Daemon's hiding behind one of the crosses and pulling him by the collar of his robe until he choked him slightly by the way he lifted him was hardly predictable, foolishly expected.

— I wonder why your mother allows you to wander, being unwell — Daemon says, he's smiling thinly in a gesture that doesn't reach his eyes. Aemond swallows the verbal vomit he can feel running in boiling anger, struggling to resist the urge to revolt, knowing that he will not succeed in freeing himself and will only be one more weight in a growing humiliation.

— I am not an invalid — he splutters, his mouth twitching in disgust at having to raise his head to look the other man in the face; Daemon does not seem perturbed at all.

— Perhaps not — his uncle reasons, examining the scandalous construction of his wound—. But that, Aemond. That surely requires you to rest.

The younger man is silent, not knowing what to add. Daemon doesn't really have anything more to say but the younger of the two can still feel the firm grip on his robes, treating him like the unruly offspring of some feline.

His uncle methodically searches his face for something, despite his growing anger and pent-up resentment at everything his mother has said, Aemond clutches at the pain that emerges from his face to keep himself still.

— I find it... Almost offensive — Daemon mutters, smiles a little even. Despite the sunken look in his eyes, he doesn't seem too saddened by the death of a woman who, in his mother's words, suffered through the whole process —. A Prince should not be a vassal appointed to such a vulgar task as spying and following.

— I am here of my own free will — Aemond responds immediately, the offence to his mother creeping under the older man's words making him squirm, not even surprised when he finds an even firmer grip —. I was just curious, to know where he would go before he left.

Daemon gives an appreciative murmur. He doesn't seem ready to let it go, and instead leans towards the young man, and looks over the place where both eyes should be; it doesn't seem morbid, something he will think of years later as another reason for the reluctant appreciation he has for the man's figure.

— Tell me, Aemond, how old are you? — Aemond grimaces, raising his head a little higher as his uncle rises to his full height again. The orange reflection of the lighting behind the man creates a shadow behind him —. You look old enough to have left the wet-nurse stories behind.

— I don't know what you're talking about — he cuts off immediately, wandering fear pushing against his throat.

— Because you haven't stopped looking at my neck, of course — Daemon continues matter-of-factly, smiling with a condescension that is sickening to him. Only at that statement does he realise that his own gaze is on the man's barely uncovered neck, and he immediately directs it to his shrewd eyes. he can feel the hot flush of embarrassment clinging to his cheeks.

— I think I'm still a bit young — he replies quickly in a heated manner, letting his embarrassment get the better of him —. How old was my sister Rhaenyra ten years ago?.

Before he can anticipate it, a choked groan escapes his throat as Daemon tugs at the collar of his robes until it gathers into a fist and pulls him in, choking him as his free hand holds him in a firm grip across the cheeks. He can feel Daemon's long fingers digging into the skin at the sides of his face as he pulls him close to his face.

He looks furious, nothing like the usual impish sneer, and, like a fear and strangeness at the speed of events, Aemond thinks - fear - for what he will do to him.

However, when Daemon opens his mouth to say something, he is interrupted by a noise coming from behind him, with some proximity. He lets Aemond go more calmly than he took it from the start, the mask of dull calmness returning to his face, a slight smile on his face.

— Take care of that — he says at last, pointing with a vague movement of his finger at the wound. Aemond can already see behind the man's back Ser Criston approaching them —. Worms are born in things like that overnight, nephew.

Once he was in his room, in the solitude of a place where his thoughts would echo loudly against the stone walls, Aemond would think that this encounter had marked the beginning of the twisted bond he and Daemon shared, one that would take too long for him to fully elucidate.

{…}

When the clarity of his illusions finally comes to him, it is by a chance he could never have imagined.

The catastrophe of that day is a horror passing in the background of his mind. The sight of Daemon chopping off that insolent man's head was the memory that stayed with him until Lucerys sickened his senses with the sickening memory of the incident with the pig, the ideas it brought to his tormented mind - the memory that he had never seen before.

But Aemond was adept at letting hatred, resentments and shortcomings fester in an unavailable part of his mind. So, with the euphoria that the memory of Vaemond Velaryon's head falling gracelessly and blood splattering near them, Aemond soaked in the euphoria at the image, a memory he could cherish for a while.

Even with it, a warning. Clear in the grandeur of its entirety as he stood ready to smash Lucerys' skull against the stone they walked upon until Daemon stood in the path between them.

It was something, perhaps the look, perhaps the very calmness of his image despite the implied threat that for a few seconds, Aemond was a young boy being held by the collar of his robes in an abandoned hallway. It was that which made him turn back and walk away.

Then, with the cumulus of all that night boiling against his senses, he finds something that was always there, something he never saw.

He is in a corridor woven on the way to Helaena's rooms, a silk curtain that was once red and by this time is green, the reflection of something shiny that his eye catches is what makes him look twice in that place and, more for the idea of someone hiding behind it is that he withdraws it suddenly, retreating at the sight of a door that was never there.

It must be a window - it was always a window - echoes in his mind and yet, even as his hope for that dream has faded over the years, he can't help but feel elated as he pulls the rusty knob, entering before he can consider the dangers.

It is a cramped room, smaller than any servant's and, in the centre, Aemond sees himself in a box that spans the vast majority of the wall. The sight of himself in motion pushes his heartbeat until it closes his throat. A dagger already rests in his hand at the thought of any danger.

A witch, if she is real'' The maid who had nursed him all his life had once said many years ago at his insistence on the subject, asking the woman about the taboo with which his mother treated anything of the sort. The maiden, sweet as she had always been, smiled looking him in the eye '' If you should find her, do not be afraid. I'm sure she'll be full of tricks.

Somehow, he found comfort in those words to approach the reflection, noticing then the glowing inscription on the reddish frame.

«I look at myself in the mirror that reflects you».

Before he could think of the possible dangers, Aemond dipped his toes into the reflection, feeling it like cold water as he sank into it.

Like an unreality out of one of the dreams he'd had, he found himself in a short corridor, the swift path his feet advanced in anticipation, the dreamed prize, the greatest longing of his years alive.

When he reached it, when he finally reached it the place was strange looking; the light that illuminated it was dull and reddish, reaching into the cornerless room behind the wide bars.

And there she was.

The woman looked the way he had always fantasised about her, the ecstasy of all his fantasies. Those unreadable shadows that had always accompanied his dreams and reveries. With that vague glimpse of her hair glowing in contrast against the flames of the fire, falling down her back as she sat there with the stylistically straight posture. There was something inherently impure about Aemond being able to see her like this, in her entirety, a sense of nakedness that prickled under his skin. The excitement bubbling inside his overheated blood, against his ever euphoric senses that he had tried so hard to undermine.

His eyes were covered, the strange mask interwoven with the headdress of his hair emulating what could only be the bizarre version of a crown. It was there that the light illuminated, leaving the rest of her face in shadow.

— Aemond Targaryen — he heard her for the first time, could feel her move, Aemond's feets moved and soon he was on the adjacent side of that secluded room, at the bars closest to the only exit she had; she followed the movement with her head, even though Aemond was sure she couldn't see him behind that piece of shining gold —. Prince Aemond.

— Lady — The prince responds, he can feel the ravenous desire burning in his senses to break through that grille, to push himself inside to be there. He had fantasised over the years about how he would act once he could hold her close, the innocence of his childhood prevailing in reveries more of admiration, the idea of just being able to look at her, the bastard hope of finding a love that was never given to him; those versions had morphed as he grew older, stained in the ink of pure vulgarity when in his deepest dreams that barrier no longer existed, he was within the confines of her isolation and there, with nowhere for her to go, she was his. His hands would clench into fists on the softness of her hips, he would tear with his teeth at the creamy expanse of her warm thighs and drink from her the pleasure his actions caused, he would thrust inside her when she was sated and fuck her with all the pent-up desire he had stored up for years.

— You've been insistent, prince — She says, bringing his mind back to the moment. She seems to hesitate for a moment, actually turning her covered eyes to the table in front of her, as if she might see or know of the open book in front of her before dismissing it, standing up, still not moving towards him, increasing his chaotic anxiety —. Very insistent to reach this empty place.

— Doesn't everyone who finds it have to show a little effort? — Aemond strains to keep his voice from betraying the confused anger he can feel, stinging beneath his chest.

She smiles, Aemond's lips open in silent exaltation at the free display of beauty, the ruddy lips an absolute provocation.

— No — she murmurs, cupping the skirts of her slightly translucent dress in her black hands, taking a couple of steps towards him —, No, prince. No one should be insistent about it. What must be given will be given; you will get what you need, not what you want.

— Daemon deserves it, then.

— Yes, he does — She immediately cuts off the outburst of his indignation, only making it grow —. He did, he does.

— Have I forced myself then into a place where I am not welcome? — he mumbles, can recognise in his own tone the threat of rising anger. The frantic thought of taking her by force is there, the idea of tearing down those damn bars and taking her out is less true to his ideals than he's always convinced himself it is.

— Tell me, prince, what is it that you want? — She moves a little further then, barely two metres from the fence. What did you want then, all those years ago —. There is nothing I can give you; there wasn't then, there isn't now, there won't be.

— I wished for you! — he replied in a tremulous voice, tapping his open palm on the perfectly preserved metal that divided them — Isn't that enough, I must want the council for a proper coup d'état against my own house?

— You wished the idea of me.

— And yet now, after so many years of searching it is here, in front of me, and I long for it even more than before.

They are both silent then, she still looks serene despite the storm that Aemond feels threatening under his skin. His altered breathing creates a slightly discordant sound with the ambience provided by the crackling of the wood burning inside the fire.

Aemond waits, his hand that had been holding one of the bars falls, sliding down the iron until it reaches the black stone knob, the reckless promise of an irresponsible act is thick in the air and whether for that or any other reason, she moves forward until she is finally close enough to stand face to face.

— Do you know what I am? — she asks. Aemond has had a vague idea of what he has formed from years of searching and overthinking, it is something on the tip of his tongue, but he denies —. Doesn't that frighten you?

— No — He answers quickly, sincere. Fear and caution for an implied threat shared in legends is made for men like Vicerys, driven by mental weakness, emotional overload —. Should it?

"Has Daemon done it?'' He echoes loudly though he does not say it, even though he is sure she knows the course of his mind.

— Come closer then, let me get to know the face of the only man I've ever let in.

He did not move, felt the quick construction of a confused grimace on his face. Despite the play of shadow and light in the poor illumination preventing him from seeing clearly anything other than his covered eyes, he thinks he knows that the corners of her mouth pull a little higher.

— You didn't deserve to come in here, prince — she repeats, Aemond is then much closer to the grille — It's not made for men like you are.... Nevertheless, I let you in.

Only then does she cut the distance that divides them, illuminating her whole face at last. There is an inherent feeling that can only remind him of him self from years ago, the child who would still stare at his reflection for hours, running the sickly expanse of the scar that stole part of his sight, analysing, stomping with growing hatred at that parasite that wanted to mourn over it, to cry. Leaning his weakness at that age on the sweet comments of the maid who nursed him, listening intently to Helaena's flattery when he slipped into her bed once they were older.

She is tainted, as Aemond himself is. There is a scar running across the corner of his mouth, pulling his upper lip slightly upwards. There are many more on his body, similar to the marks he knows her fingers leave. The deep black colour from his fingers to his wrists splits into branches that reach just beyond the elbow, stopping then at thin spikes.

— Why? — he asks, his throat dry.

She merely smiles.

One of her hands then reaches out through the gap in the bars, the cool touch of her fingers coming like an expected good. The smooth texture of his jaw is the first thing she seeks to feel. Aemond loses himself in the unreality of her face and the burning worldly fervour her touch provokes despite its simplicity, the sharp feel of her pointed nails outlining the taut line of his jaw, the long slender fingers running down his neck to encircle his side, creating a small soft circle with his thumb against Aemond's throat.

She then moves upwards, creating a smooth furrow until the same finger recreated the shape of his slightly parted lips, the doubt of whether she is staining him with that jet is immediately erased when the idea that this is the shade of her skin is realised. He feels the needy urge to close his eyes and enjoy the cool scent of her smooth skin.

He can feel the wetness lingering on her thumb as she pushes it lightly between his lips. There is a whole glowing smile as he barely grazes the digit with the tip of his tongue.

Aemond moved a little closer for something almost magnetic, the heart racing, the burning sensation rising in his chest and rising to his face, the rush of blood pooling to his lower belly at the sight, the ruddy lips, the smooth skin of her neck to his shoulders at the sight, as if the dress wasn't already insinuating. The inert response when he himself was on fire... He was ready to do it.

But she wouldn't let him.

She stopped him with her free hand, which was taking his that was already in The Lock. It wasn't a strong grip, even if he was sure she could do that. It was firm, definitely. Holding Aemond's hand between her own, waiting for him to let go before stroking his fingers through hers, letting go then.

That hand brushed against his chest, a limp touch that nevertheless stopped him from any further recklessness, leaving her to continue the tentative exploration. His senses intoxicated by that scent as if it were an opiate, a scent also laden with something in the distance that forces the growing desire to thrust his hips.

But his breath in search of more of that scent was cut off when she pulled her hand away, the stylised movements as she drew it towards her own body, outlining her own lips, letting him notice how the red colour ran slightly and stained her thumb before returning it to Aemond's mouth, who licked at once; it tasted of her, of her scent, of something impure, filthy, richly degenerate; there was still wet residue from her mouth, which he knew and didn't hold back from licking as she played a little, poking the tip of his tongue a little, tasting the pure essence of her mouth and that dead-looking skin, feeling the edge of her nail against the delicate muscle, thinking he heard a singsong laughter in the distance, not even seeing her but not knowing when he had let his eyelid close, when his breathing turned to muted, needy gasps.

His eye opened as he lost those cold fingers on his warm skin, his chest tightened in painful anxiety, his stomach churning, his pulse pounding in his throat, the taste of that fruit against his tongue as it licked his lips. His belly contracted in growing heat, painful throbbing in his crotch, tugs of desire to get him out of his clothes, an influx of unconnected images in which he forced himself into that room and could push her against an adjoining wall, yank up her skirts and fuck her fast and hard, in which he could shove himself so far down her throat he made her cry as he fucked her mouth, the need to pull viciously at that hair.

He pushed a little, his legs weak and his thighs aching with anticipation, the aching sensation against his insides with each pull, the desire for her, to have her there, in the unconsciousness of desire that had fermented over time, almost dead before it, at the mercy of what his base instincts wanted to get, her. Always her.

he looked again at the place where her eyes should be, the material of that mask made crown glowing in contrast to the flames coming from her side of that confinement. They made her look ethereal, unconnected to the past and so promising for the future...

They were so close.

The woman parted her lips as a mirrored response to Aemond's gesture, despite the obvious impediment, he believed they were both looking at each other within their own limitations. A lost touch as the lady ''looks'' at his lips and bites hers with a greedy smile, a gesture that rekindled that heat in his belly, discharges that moved from the veins down there, pulsing, needy, a new thrust, a little more hollow, hungry, airless gasps, not enough of the cold smell, the smell of her skin, the smell he so needed, the smell of her desire. Of her need against his.

She then directs her hand upwards, reaching for the side of his face and with it, brushes the rough leather of the patch covering his eye, moving it.

The broken atmosphere almost came as the sound of glass shattering against his ears. His hand moves quickly and, despite the fact that this is the first time he has touched her, he cannot enjoy it as he holds her by the wrist, slowing her down. She doesn't look disturbed, even so. His slender fingertips still caress the beginnings of his hair, her face tilted slightly to the side.

The request is implicit in the air and his body surrenders to it long before his mind does, dropping his arm to the side of his body. As a reward, there is a larger smile on the lady's face, one that reveals a quick glimpse of a row of sharp teeth.

She runs her fingers through the leather headband that disappears into his hair, picking up a couple of strands in the process until it returns to the patch. It is delicate, which Aemond is grateful for in a place deep in his mind; she removes it carefully, until it rests on the top of his forehead, exposing the scandalous aspect of his ruin.

She looks deeply pleased and it is this that gets the prince's attention, she carefully traces the sickly expanse of the scar, Aemond feels a slight tug of pain as it brushes the area of the socket, as it has always hurt.

It is almost an act of inertia as he takes her hand that has been resting on his chest and brings it to his lips, leaving a kiss on the back of it.

The woman smiles, somewhat softly before her face turns slightly to the side, seeming to catch something before she slides the patch back into place.

— They're looking for you, something seems to be up — she murmurs, brushing her fingers where she can touch before curling them in on herself. Aemond barely restrains himself from moving forward in search of the lost contact — It's time for you to go.

— I won't — he replies, she doesn't seem bothered by his disobedience despite everything.

— It's something to do with your mother.

With that, Aemond comes violently out of his lethargy. Who he is and where he belongs seems to come back to his mind even as the place seems to be made to make him live for and by her.

He nods, stepping back at last, checking the state of the patch before taking another step away from the woman.

— I will return when the matter is resolved.

— Tomorrow — she contradicts him calmly —. When everything settles.

He emits a murmur to which she smiles. He has a vague idea that even if he tries to come back that night she won't let it go. It takes him a moment, due to the movement between the bars and the lightness of the fabric wearing one of the sleeves of her teal dress to fall past the line of morality, letting him get a glimpse of the smooth line of her breasts, nipples erect against the thin fabric.

He forces himself to step back and, by the time he turns to resume the way he came in, he is no longer in that place lost in time. He spins around in confusion as he finds himself back in that cramped room, and is confronted by the image of his full body in that reflective device.

He ignores the statement on the glowing frame, appreciating the sight of himself. His lips and the corner of his mouth stained with the ink that stained his lips red. He is looking for the mark of his fantasies before he even notices it and, when he notices you on the back of his hand he smiles, the thick black growing through his veins until it reaches his fingers, the ones tangled around his wrist are slightly luminous.

Once he has dragged the back of that hand away to wipe the colour from his mouth, he heads back to the reality that awaits him.

#house of the dragon imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x oc #aemond x reader #Aemond one eye #Daemon Targaryen #Daemon Targaryen x oc #Daemon Targaryen x reader #Aemond x Daemon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #Aemond Targaryen imagine #asoiaf #asoiaf x reader #fanfiction

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Note

Don't know that it's a *good* fic request but: Soap being freaked out by a giant spider and while others make fun of him, they're trying to hide that they're freaked out too

Thank you for this, I laughed and did not sleep for nights because I kept dreaming about this spider.

"Spider"

“I can’t believe we’re staying in a barn” Soap’s eyebrows raised, looking at the abandoned, huge, brown barn in front of him.

On a mission in Venezuela, following a drug lord, the 141 ran out of options to secure a safehouse. A barn located about 45 miles from where they were supposed to be fighting, realizing they were a little bit over their heads on this mission.

After a successful mission prior, cockiness had filled each of the members' heads. The barn, which smelled of lake water and horseshit, definitely humbled them in their new environment.

Ghost, Soap, Price, and Gaz had all retreated to this small barn. Tired and hungry from walking so much. Price and Ghost settled outside keeping the first watch as Soap and Gaz took rest first.

Soap had opened the doors to the barn and the smell hit him. Gaz, who had been in much more disgusting places did not mind at all, just wanted to catch some rest before it was his turn to take watch.

He couldn’t help but shake his head at Soap. He never assumed Soap to be such a prissy thing when it came to staying in this barn.

Soap was disgusted. He had not slept in 3 days, the fatigue weighing heavily on his eyelids, shoulders, and legs. He dropped the gun slung over his shoulder and began to make a makeshift bed out of the hay and dirt left inside. He ended up realizing it was not dirt, but dried up feces he was mixing together.

He gagged out loud. Now he was pissed. Rightfully pissed. Did they not have a better fucking place to take cover for the night? He threw his gloves to the end of the barn. “That’s boggin!”

He shifted over to another space of the barn where Gaz was. He flashed his light inside of the barn and began to make the hay bed again. He was fuming but he wasn’t going to say anything. Sure, there had been worse positions he was in, but right now, he could not handle a grotesque barn.

Gaz saw the opportunity he had to take. He knew Soap was pissed when his top lip curled into his mouth and he remained quiet.

“Have you ever heard about the folklore here? They hanged a mom in a barn for killing all her children.”

Soap leaned in, “I told you I don’t like your ghost stories or any keech you researched.”

Gaz smiled, “You scared Soap?” “Y’know they say that in this very barn, the woman likes to come and snatch you by the legs to drown ya in the river nearby.”

“haud yer wheesht, just don’t like messin’ with the dead you dobber.” He was tired. Tired of all the useless facts Gaz had been blabbing about the country, and its ghost stories.

He finished his set up near a thick post. The post was almost as big as his head. After shucking off his gear and carefully placing his weapons by him, he leaned by it, mentally telling himself this was better than any cold ground outside.

Gaz made an eerie noise. He made a guttural noise with this throat, followed by a poor impression of a woman.

“Johnny…. My children… please save my children”

“shitebag.. you startin’?”

Gaz bit the inside of his cheek to hold back laughter. Soap was just too easy.

Gaz continued to make noises, throwing small rocks from his pack to have Soap twitch around. The rocks weren’t hitting him, so he looked around for something else. He then saw his opportunity. A small spider on a post above Soap’s head. He grabbed it and chucked it softly onto Soap’s face.

Soap swiped at his face. His eyes went wide, and his stomach dropped. He turned to face Gaz.

“Enough playing around, I felt something crawl on my entire cheek”

Gaz howled. Soap was so stupid.

“Fuck this I’m not stayin’ here.” Soap had proceeded to sit up looking around.

“You scared of a little spider?” He said, attempting to catch his breath.

“You didn’t feel it mate, it took over ma’ entire cheek” Soap continued.

“You scared of a little bite?”

“You see when those get infected? Entire spot goes BLACK and your face starts fallin’ off I’m not dealing with that.”

Soap wasn’t satisfied. He got up and began searching beneath the hay with his flashlight. He pointed his knife and chucked the hay off trying to find whatever it was that crawled on him.

Gaz stopped laughing, thinking about how Price would surely be pissed knowing they were wasting time dicking around instead of resting up. He was about to tell him he grabbed the spider above his head and to try and get some rest. Soap flashed the light up on the post, where Gaz took the baby spider from and they soon realized the terror watching them from above.

They both jumped back. Soap almost dropped his flashlight just seeing it.

“Fuckin’ hell that’s HUGE!” Gaz pulled his light out and looked at the monstrosity.

The spider was massive. Hairy, brown, and thick– just like the post Soap was laying against. Completely camouflaged, its body had taken up the entire post, its legs wrapped around it. It didn’t move, or twitch. It laid there minding its own business.

Gaz now felt scared. “Shit what if it jumps?”

They turned off their lights. Gaz came to an awful realization in his head.

This was a goliath birdeater. He had been reading up on South America when he read a “fun fact” about Venezuela having a record for the biggest spider, and also eating this spider. He also came to the conclusion that the one he threw at Soap was its babies…

He spoke in shock –

“What if it laid babies underneath the hay?”

Soap eyed the barn hay, if any brown spots had been crawling around. Seeing Gaz terrified, only made him realize something horrific, if he was scared, who was going to kill it?

“Aye so now I’m not the only one scared?”

“Fuck off mate YOU never specified how BIG it was!” Gaz said, shaking his head.

“Aye and me sayin’ something crawled on my ENTIRE cheek wasn’t big enough for you?” Soap pointed at him with his knife.

Gaz kept his eyesight on the spider. It was huge, hairy, and looked fake…like it took steroids, something you buy for a Halloween prop. It immediately reminded him of the time in Australia.

“This is why we left Australia,” he said in a low voice. Still astonished at the size of it.

Soap was already pissed he felt it crawl on him, and that he needed to get to sleep.

“What if we just shoot the damn thing?”

“Waste ammo? Do you think Price or Ghost would let us?” Gaz thought out loud.

“Cannae be sleeping with that half yorkie half crab above me.” Soap’s patience was thin. His fear had heightened.

“Right then, you should shoot it.”

Gaz cocked his head towards Soap. “You’re kiddin’ right?” Gaz knew once he shot that thing, either babies would come out or guts. “I’m not doing it. There’s no spider in my post.”

Soap rubbed down his face with his hand. He was about to tell Gaz to go fuck himself when Ghost opened the barn door and came in.

“You two muppets done cryin’? I can hear you from outside!”

“And you didn’t think to come inside to help?” Gaz asked him.

“Oh bloody hell, what are ya cryin’ about?”

Soap turned on his flashlight again trailing up the post for Ghost to see.

Ghost remained his composure, not believing his own eyes and spoke –

“Bloody hell, Soap shoot that damn thing!”

“I’m not shootin’ it Lt!” Soap looked at Ghost. “You shoot it and Gaz and I will be quiet for the rest of night.”

Ghost sighed, severely annoyed that they had been making all this noise over a spider, way up high away from them. He took his gun out and aimed for the spider.

When suddenly, something in his stomach told him to stop. What if it jumped on him or what if he missed?

“Right then, let us stand back, yeah?” Ghost took a few steps back and asked Soap to position the flashlight on it. As soon as the light hit the spider again, it jumped forward.

Soap ran behind Ghost, where he pulled a gun from his pack, then positioned it with the light then began to shoot recklessly to the ground. Ghost’s eyes began frantically searching the floor before he shot anything while Gaz had been near the barn door, swaying his light around to make sure it didn’t jump on him.

Price had barged through the door witnessing his task force acting like complete imbeciles.

“What the devil has got into all of you?”

“I still haven’t shot it, Lt. Let's just go outside. It’s his barn now” Soap motioned to Ghost walking toward the door.

“I’ve asked you all a question!” Price had shouted.

Ghost now felt so stupid, Price was the reason he came inside the barn to tell Soap and Gaz to shut up.

“Sir… it’s uh… a uh… spider.” Soap said.

Price had lost it. He yelled at his 3 members of the crew. “Givin’ out our location knowing that we’re basically on the run? Over a damn spider?”

Price was fuming.

Gaz spoke up, “Sir it was huge. If we can kill it, I assure you we will go to sleep.”

The four of them turned on their flashlights and searched the barn.

There was no sign of the brown creature anywhere. Price mumbled about not being paid enough for this.

“Well it seems it’s gone now, I’ve got no time for nonsense. ”

Soap nudged Gaz “Had t’ get yer daddy for this one aye?”

Gaz shoved him away, then out of the corner of his eye he saw the spider again. He motioned to it with his finger speechless.

The spider looked unreal crawling around on the ground like that. It was fast too, crawling up the ground towards the barn door.

Price looked to where Gaz was pointing at, and stepped back, pulled his gun out and positioned it sideways, closing one eye to shoot the thing. The single bullet managed to kill the spider, guts flying everywhere. It shot one of his legs off in the process.

“There now, are we alright?” Price said again. Loading his gun into its holder. Mentally kicking himself for using ammo on a spider. “Let’s go Lt.” Ghost followed him outside, in disbelief that he overreacted.

Gaz and Soap settled by the door now, back to back, adrenaline still running through their bodies over the massive spider. Neither of them would admit it.

Right outside the barn door, Ghost and Price settled into their positions again, guns cocked and ready.

Price spoke, “bloody muppets crying over a spider.” he laughed to Ghost. Ghost nodding and continuing to scan the area.

“Tell you one thing, after seeing that creature in person I think it’s best we don't sleep in there.”

#ask #simon ghost riley #simon riley #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty mwii

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intoseaa · 3 months

Note

write about jeff the killer

ok so basically one fun thing about me is that every original creation ive ever made has had Jeff the Killer in it because hes public domain and i find it unimaginably funny to think that he's in every setting ever

in the process i have thought about how id improve the original jeff the killer (including elements of other "fixes" and retellings with my own spin of hereditary nonsense and generational trauma) . jeffin it up under the cut . Sorry if i repeat his name too much its just really funny to read out loud that way

content warnings: sh, extremely lightly implied incest, homophobia, implied parental neglect, Jeff the Killer

When grandpa died, Jeff, 7 years old as he recalled, as if he could ever forget every little moment of his birthday, heard a lot of terms to describe it. Though no celebration before had been especially glamorous, Jeff's excitement for the day was bashed rather fast when there was not only not so much as the scent of cake in the kitchen, but the grim news of his grandfather's passing and his mother weeping in the kitchen.

Around the point he found out that what had occurred was apparently hereditary, in hindsight, Jeff thought that was probably the point where his life began to go downhill.

Fatal familial insomnia is a rare genetic condition, provoking dementia, muscle twitching, and most prominently, total inability to sleep. Like many prions, there is no treatment, prevention, or really anything you could possibly do if it happened.

He knew because the days he was allowed on the computer were mostly spent researching what happened to his grandfather. Something about it scared his little mind so much that it generated what his mother titled an "obsession." His older brother Lou was kinder, dubbing it an interest in learning or some other equally flowery way of saying Jeff was thinking way too fucking much about this goddamn disease.

His father did not notice. Indeed, the whole ordeal from his grandpa's death to Jeff randomly getting too scared to sleep (counterproductively...) seemed lost on the salaryman.

----

Somniphobia is the irrational fear of sleep.

As stupid as it was, Jeff found the news that his blood may carry something that will kill him through the lack of something so inoccuous to be a vessel to avoid it completely.

The standard age of onset was 50 or so, but it could be as early as 13, and Jeff's constant self-torture went above and beyond in developing paranoia that he had finally gotten FFI. At that point Lou's endless empathy had somehow been expended, and even he had to giggle when Jeff opened up about it.

Jeff didn't like being laughed at.

Lou shooed him out of his room, and the young Jeff went back to reading case after case from Reddit to 4chan to forums with inconceivable names he didn't even remember, all throughout the night, up until he inevitably conked out whether he wanted to or not. Little awaited him but nightmares.

----

Jeff's first time seeing a dead body was rather formative. At 14, he and some friends (far be it from him to remember their names,) went out into the woods, and there it was: a dead boy around their age, charred beyond recognition. They gazed at it wordlessly, and when each went home, the image stayed in most of their minds in a place of horror, a reflection of something that could happen to them.

Not for Jeff.

Jeff saw the closed eyelids, and in a moment of awareness admittedly rare for the boy, he saw rest he noted he was keeping himself from getting. Every day was marked by the lack of it, and for a moment he envied that dead boy, not in the sense of death, but in the sense that he looked like he was asleep.

That night, his nightmare consisted of his grandfather, finally waking up in the coffin he was buried in. Not dead.

Merely an unfortunate subject of sleep debt.

As he clawed at the wood, as his nails sloughed off in his desperate attempt to escape, as blood began dripping down onto him, Jeff got closer and closer to waking up, but, well.

For a nightmare, when he eventually did shoot up in his bed, he noted he got such restful sleep.

----

Lou was frequently bullied. The poor guy had a birthmark that made it look like one half of his face kinda smiled all the time but not really. It was actually kind of uncanny to look at to a few kids.

This bothered Jeff. He cared a lot, maybe a little too much about his darling brother, and seeing it really upset him.

Because Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

So it was up to a few dumb ideas on his part. He admitted it wasn't a very smart plan, and he would probably be caught. A cop was gonna come to his house and take him away for the rest of his life, maybe. But on the off chance that that wasn't true, he decided to play a little prank on the main 3 guys that picked on his darling brother.

Contrary to his expectations, there were no survivors.

Secondarily, there was no suspect.

The case went cold. Maybe Lou had an idea, but of course, his loyal big brother chalked it up to paranoia.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

----

Jeff had problems making friends.

He didn't have a good memory (symptom 2, dementia), was frequently tired (symptom 3, total insomnia), and came off as what a teacher might refer to as "special." His mother disagreed, and he listened to his mother because she was always right, even if she was clearly wrong.

A misplaced "hey Charles" to a delinquent named some shit like Bob might have even gotten him hit. He didn't want to be hurt, nor did he want to have to hurt someone. He saw that as a rather steep inconvenience that took a lot of planning, one that can easily go wrong and send them straight to what he referred to, in his mind, as sleep.

He was scared to send the rest of them to sleep. Jeff was afraid of sleep.

Eventually, though, the band of delinquents at his school invited him to a party. Admitting it openly, he kind of idolized them. They found him kind of funny and almost cute, and more than one boy stared at him a little too much. Jeff didn't understand because he thought that was what boys did to girls, and Jeff wasn't a girl. Maybe the long hair made him look like one.

He appreciated the attention in any case. He liked to stare at that boy too. He actually bothered to remember that boy's name (or he did back then.) He couldn't tell you now.

----

At the party Jeff sat on the other side of that boy during spin the bottle, next to some guy named Bob apparently or some shit like it. He mostly recognized him because he had brought this bottle of whiskey for him and only for him. No one noticed or pointed it out, but he could hear his mother at the church going on and on and on and

The bottle landed on him, and the delinquent bunch started laughing.

The boy in front of him looked hopeful for a moment, but that disappeared with the first chortle and the bottle quietly spun again. Jeff felt disappointed.

He didn't know why.

It showed on his face, because first the girls started laughing and then went the boys and then went his mother in his head going on on and on and on and on. He was getting very tired of it.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

He pretend to giggle as well for a moment. "I need to pee."

Blurting it out really awkwardly seemed to convince them. It sounded repulsive to him, personally.

Coming back from the bathroom, some girl had left. The boy he liked more than the rest and the boy apparently named some shit like Bob were, for whatever reason, squabbling.

He couldn't tell you now what they were going on about, but he remembered what he said.

"It seems like you're overreacting a little bit."

The boy named Bob(?) stared right at him, eyes like the headlights of a car, as he wrestled his lighter out of his pocket after unscrewing the cap on his bottle of whiskey.

"You little shit, I'll make you pay for that," he slurred.

----

At the hospital, he was informed his burns were relatively mild. Lou hugged him and sobbed and Jeff let him even though he thought he was just overreacting a little bit.

Jeff didn't like to be cried over, either.

He wondered if the boy he liked more than the rest would see him.

Of course he didn't.

When he was released, the looks he had originally boasted were fading. His hair was no longer the natural, deep black it originally was, and suddenly it seemed entirely ashy and generally upsetting and gross. The scars pockmarked his body, and they reminded him somewhat of a fractal he saw once, at least in shape. He looked awful.

Jeff stopped coming to school about as soon as Lou stopped forcing him.

He didn't really feel the same. He felt like there was a big wad of burning cotton stuffed in his skull, something the alcoholic flames had set alight.

The night he was discharged from the hospital, he took a good look at his darling brother. He saw a certain beauty in the "smile," and in the unblinking, teary eyes. He felt bad.

He felt ugly.

Standing before the bathroom mirror with a knife, he thought he could make it better. His pale face was reflected back at him with such a hideous series of scars that it felt like mockery.

Jeff didn't like to be laughed at.

----

Right as Jeff felt beautiful, his mother saw the devil.

He felt safe now that it hurt to close his eyes. The cuts on his eyelids burned, blood in his eyes, and dear god, what a radiant smile!

He would never have to sleep again, the way it hurt.

As she called for a priest nearby, his father finally looked at him as if Jeff mattered. Armed with a baseball bat, he saw the devil in his son and-

----

Blood on the floor. His mother face down, and his father face up, eyelids forced shut. He decided to give them smiles they didn't have in life. Jeff liked to make people smile.

Unfortunately, as Lou gazed down at Jeff, he was so unimaginably scared that not a single thing even comparable to a smile graced his face. He looked almost like one of those split masks, between tragedy and comedy.

Jeff cared a little too much about Lou. Killing their parents had felt good, but it felt a lot worse now that Lou didn't like what he had done.

"You see?"

Jeff uttered. The smoke in his lungs gave the quiet boy a rasp.

"I look just like you now."

His darling brother was too beautiful to kill.

As he turned and walked out the door, Lou waited for the police to arrive. He didn't run. Jeff's loyal brother didn't do a thing.

He saw his parents, sound asleep.

The police had taken him, but when more and more bodies turned up just like the ones they'd found, the cops found it harder and harder to justify keeping the catatonic boy.

#the talker #the writer #jtk #creepypasta jtk #jeff the killer #jeff the killer creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #jeffery woods #jeffrey woods #18+ mdni #answers #ilove writing requests give me give me give m

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rainsnz · 1 year

Note

albedo, up in dragonspine with a headcold. thinks he can work it off, but the weather isn’t being particularly considerate regarding his current condition.

Dearest Anonymous Writer, I do hope you enjoy this fic I lovingly crafted for you!!! I was OVERJOYED to receive this in my asks and I really really hope you like it!!!!!!! Even though I am bad at writing (especially albedo who may seem ooc, but i tried.) Happy Holidays everyone!

Frostbite

g/enshin snzfic (sick!a/lbedo & k/aeya) (4k ish words)

The frost is extra frosty today.

Even clutching the furry blankets closer to his freezing skin does very little against the cold seeping into his bones; Albedo wraps the covers closer to himself, letting out a small shiver, wholly unwilling to get out of the warm fluffy sheets. At least, for a few more moments…

…

Just a few more moments…

When the ceiling comes into view again, it seems like the room’s gotten even colder, and Albedo’s muscles feel like lead, and his eyelids feel as though an irresistible force, stronger than gravity, is pulling them down.

He has half a mind to close his eyes again and allow sleep to claim him once more.

…

Albedo’s eyes fly open, leaving the world reeling from how quickly light infiltrates his senses, and his mouth opens before he even has the slightest idea why, his mind still slow and stupid from the stupor of dreamless sleep - he’s plunged into darkness once more as quickly as he’d left it, his every thought now devoted to a singular cause - the insane, burning itch that has somehow invaded the very back of his nasal passages -!

“-h-hIH-!”

He wavers, mouth hanging open, nostrils quivering in frustrated anticipation, for just a moment -

“..-h-hiihH-..!”

Before finally, thank the Archons, his nose releases him from the agony - he pitches forward, blanket raised up to catch the messy spray of his sneezes -

“-hIh’ks-Huh-! h’IHKSH-uh-!”

A pause, in which Albedo keeps his eyes squeezed shut, nose still buried in the fur of his blanket, waiting for the itch to summon more exhausting expulsions -

Then the alchemist sighs, a wet sniffle escaping him as he lowers the blank-

“-hiHH’kSHhuu-!”

Startled, he gasps involuntarily, his breaths growing uneven as the itch burns powerfully throughout his nose, which responds with an aching twinge of agonizing sensation pummeling the sensitive insides of his red, twitching nostrils -

“-hiiyyEiiii’kSHhiuu-!! …!”

That sneeze had been particularly wet, and he’s left sniffling furiously, trying to recover his dignity even as his blanket’s hopelessly soiled with the spray of his - oh no, his breath catches as a particularly sharp twinge in his sinuses makes his head rear back, and something tells him that his blanket’s going to be rather worse for the wear after -

“-hhaAHHH’EKkhsh-hIHH’kSShhi-uuuHH-!!”

Hurriedly, before he can sniffle reflexively, he shoves the fur blanket off of himself, all but catapulting himself out of the safe haven of the warm bed, eyes still squeezed shut -

“hhAHh-uhhKKSShhh-!! h’KKShh!!.....”

Albedo swipes at his inflamed nostrils, groaning slightly as he finally has the chance to open his bleary eyes. Ugh.. With a slight sigh he sinks down onto the chair by his desk, a hand rifling through his drawers. He knew he should’ve gotten rid of that fur-blanket ages ago, as it had the tendency to coax a few sneezes out of his sensitive nose every now and again, but he hadn’t exactly expected the itch to be quite so strong so as to wake him up. The alchemist sniffles, fingers finally finding the handkerchief he’d been searching for, and, with a slight sigh, he blows his nose. Perhaps the blanket had accumulated some dust, or something..?

Either way, best not to keep the thing about for now. Albedo sniffles once again, finding it rather irritating how much his nose is running. His throat at this point is starting to ache, which can only be from the chill that’s invaded the entire cave. Hmm.. must’ve been a particularly bad storm.

Albedo frowns, hesitant, as he stares down the offending blanket, its furry exterior evoking a particular itch in the back of his nose. However, the sheer amount of shivering he’s doing is strongly dissuading him from exiting the cave to properly dispose of the thing, and for a few moments he simply clings to his own arms, trying to hide from the pervasive cold.

Oh, not again - his head tilts back, breath catching once more -! Albedo moans quietly, the back of his hand digging at his irritated nostrils, but still he’s helpless to stop the next series of -

“-h-hAHHhikSHH-! h’iIKSh-uhh-! h’iKKsh-HUH-! H’--!! h-hh-AKsHHiyuuhH-!”

A wet sniffle. His nose burns badly. In a rather embarrassing display he blows his nose into the poor, wet handkerchief, and finds barely any relief, as his nostrils ignite with renewed passion.

“Uhh-hhh-! hAAhhHKKHSHHh-!! ha’AKKHShhUH-!!”

As the itch starts to get utterly overwhelming he decides that enough is enough. With one hand pinching hard at his itchy nose, the other holding the blanket as far as possible from his face, Albedo (in a very dignified manner) thrusts the wretched fabric far into the snow.

He breathes a sigh of almost relief, that swiftly becomes a gasp of desperation -!

“-huuuhh-! H-uhh-..!!”

The agonizing seconds stretch longer and longer as his breaths come unevenly.

And yet…!

Every passing moment feels more and more like a letdown, as the itch becomes more of a background hum, as silent as the snowflakes falling onto snowdrifts, yet as present as the chill they bring. Albedo’s hand lowers, taking with it the handkerchief and his spirits. He sniffles, hugging his elbows as he waits patiently, head still tilted upward.

It feels as if an eternity passes with his nose wiggling in the air, nursing the tiny itch until it’s formidable enough for him to finally expel it - and oh, that burns -!

“-hihhh…h-ihh-!”

A small hitching gasp ignites his nasal passages with a brightly burning sensation.

“..h-iihh-…” It’s only a matter of time, he can tell by the way his eyes are starting to water and the way his throat feels scratchy with anticipation. Yet, he is helpless to speed up the process, completely bent to the will of this torturous sneeze, the burning overwhelming his senses -

“…! -h-!! hihhh-..!”

His breaths are ragged, his nose squirming from the sheer irritation of it all, and - he gasps, itch finally freeing him from the agony.

“iiih-iiHIHH-kSHUHH-!!”

That’s odd, he thinks, sniffling and shivering with equal fervor, brow furrowed as he tries to part the mist filling his weary brain, shouldn’t his nose be itching less now that the blanket’s gone…? Indeed, his nose’s itch is only growing in strength with every weak sniff and violent shudder. Irritated and annoyed, he blasts his nose into the handkerchief once more. Maybe the tickle hasn’t run its course yet.

Carefully he removes the handkerchief from his nostrils, wiggling them experimentally; fortunately, despite the fact that his every inhale feels stuffy and uncomfortable, he’s not out right sneezing. It probably was the fur after all -!

Albedo’s nose chooses that moment to twitch powerfully, and his fingers quickly reach up, pinching at his nostrils that are currently whining at him, hoping for some reprieve from the wild itching that is exploding like an overload reaction. As the tickle starts to invade his senses he finds that he cannot possibly ignore such a powerful adversary, and, dignity forgotten for a moment, he gasps - nose frantic for relief -!

“hhAHH-!!! h-aAHHEEKSSHH-!! hAHHESHHUHH-!!” The sneezes burn his throat on the way out and he’s left panting slightly, wincing as his entire head is suddenly spinning and pounding and full of sawdust. Albedo sighs, and his heart sinks as that innocuous breath becomes a slight cough as his throat rebels against him.

Well, there’s no denying it now. He’s sick.

A part of him had known the second he’d woken that morning, what with the slight tickle in the back of his throat, creeping upwards into his nasal passages. Now with the irrefutable evidence, there’s no way Albedo can ignore the facts.

Good thing he can still ignore the symptoms.

Unfortunately, even if Albedo only has a head cold, the outside has a different kind of cold - a much more severe one, at that. A longing gaze turned towards his forlorn bed makes him sorely wish that he hadn’t been so hasty to throw away the warmest blanket that he possessed. Yet a stronger shiver running through his body strongly dissuades him from leaving to retrieve the probably sopping wet and frozen blanket.

Another shiver forces Albedo to his feet, and he stumbles to the fireplace, frozen fingers fumbling with the little firewood he had left. Hands graze against the box’s bottom, and he simply sighs, before tossing the last of the tinder into the hearth.

Normally that’s a sign to go out to fetch more.

Today?

He can barely keep his eyes open long enough to start the fire, fingers barely hanging on to the flint, as his breath shudders weakly in his chest -

He ducks his head into his shoulder, shivering as the itch once again takes control - “hAHkCHUHH-! h-ah-!!”

A pause.

“…hiih…”

The way his breath stutters in his chest is not a very encouraging sign as he wrestles with this fast-fading itch.

“…”

A wet sniffle, disappointment settling into his veins as the urge leaves him hanging, and he wearily turns back to his fire-starting efforts.

Thanks to quite a few attempts, he manages to get a spark fanned into a small flame, and warmth fills Albedo’s veins. A contented sigh.

“…-ihh-!!” His nose suddenly ignites, a spark similarly bursting to life, and he squeezes his eyes shut, aching nose raised into the air -

“..-hihh-..”

The itch fades once more, and his throat complains furiously. These false starts are driving him insane. There’s nothing Albedo can do, however, but blast his nostrils and gunk into the abused handkerchief helplessly.

Ugh.

Illness is such an inconvenience.

There’s still much to do, and just thinking about it makes Albedo’s head spin. He’ll probably be alright, it’s only a little cold. From prior experience, it’ll most likely go away. The worst that this illness would be is an annoyance - although, his next hitching gasp makes him rethink that, as he desperately clears his itchy nose into his poor soggy handkerchief.

Albedo shuffles onto his chair once the warmth is sufficient to stop his whole-body shivers (somewhat, he’s starting to suspect that the origin of some of them are not in fact from the chill outside) - and even though his body flashes with freezing cold every few minutes or so, it’s enough to get him back to work.

With a careful hand guiding tweezers full of elemental dust, Albedo stares at the pan. Combining these two identical materials, borne of different origins, might have a novel effect, given the technique of mixing is precise. As he delicately handles the instruments, laser-focused on the mixture, he sniffles slightly, the itch in his nose omnipresent and omni-annoying. Wisps of smoke seep upwards, twirling in the cold air, and -!

His throat rises up in immediate protest, a scratchy sensation emerging and rearing its head throughout his respiratory system; Albedo stiffens, a hand automatically flying up to his mouth as he sputters a small cough. CLACK! The tweezers clatter to the floor, but his eyes are fluttering with a much larger issue -!

“hi-IHHHKShuuH-! hii-ihKSHhyuh-!!!”

He opens his eyes to find elemental dust swirling all throughout the frosty air, visible against the puff of his breath, sparkling like motes in the sunlight - and this is not a sight he sees for very long, before his eyes squeeze shut again, breath catching in a half-cough half-sneezing expulsion that grates at his chest - “aHIKSSHTYUUhhh-!! hI-AkkSSHiuhh-!! h-yakkSHUHH—!!!!”

His nose is weeping, and a wet snort does nothing but worsen the issue as more dust makes its way into his red, raw throat. The alchemist stumbles; eyes, nose, and throat burning with an unquenchable fire. Feeling against the wall, gasping as his breath leaves him in repeated coughs and sneezes sprayed against his elbow - “hyiIHHUkkSHH-h’KShhhUhh—!!” Albedo’s fingers find the entrance and he nearly faceplants into the snow from how quickly he opens the door, letting the blizzard-strength winds gust into his poor, frozen abode. The pitiful fire extinguishes itself with a spiteful hiss, but Albedo can barely care less as he refills his dust-infested lungs with fresh, freezing cold oxygen -

and that oxygen acts as a catalyst to the horribly irritating reaction blasting around in his nose; distantly, he wonders if this could count as a swirl reaction, before all thoughts leave his fuzzy mind in favour of I NEED TO SNEEZE -!!

“iiyyIIIEESHHUH-!! h-iihhKSHH-!!!! h-i-iih-kkshhiyyuhh-!!”

He reels in the frosty air, his lungs screaming as the harsh contrast between burning itch and freezing cold stings at his throat and sinuses. Before he can even register the sheer agony, Albedo’s mouth snaps open once more, breaths coming out as half-cough half-hitch abominations as the irritating sensations war with one another -!

“-h-aaHH-h’k-! ‘kSHIiyuh-’! h’k--h’iihHHk’kshhiHUHhh-kSHH-t!!”

The wind is unforgivingly frosty against his poor nose, which protests the sudden temperature change with a violent twitch, and Albedo feels himself falling to pieces even before he has time to draw breath.

“-hiiiIIIIHh-hh’iiHHKKshhHHUh-! h’akSHhuhh! h’kSHHihh-h’hHKhshuhHH!!”

The alchemist pants, his throat finally satiated with the desperate expulsions, and quickly he pulls the door shut as the wind bites at his ears and nose and fingers.

Sniffling fervently, and coughing quite a few times as well, he shivers as he turns back into the room. The lab has dropped in temperature once more. Albedo finds that his head is spinning so badly that he can’t bring himself to bother braving the storm for another heap of firewood. Maybe if he worked some more, he’d regain some energy. Furthermore the storm will probably have passed by the time his experiment has completed. At least, that’s what the alchemist tells himself, as he focuses bleary eyes on the table once more, shuddering as the intensified chill presents itself as an icy feeling through his veins.

For a while he simply works, ignoring how his throat curls with pain and how his sniffling keeps messing up the experiment. A shaking hand is no good when he’s working with delicate ashes, and he grits his teeth out of frustration - totally not because they’re chattering, forced together by the harsh chill in the room. His throat feels as though he had swallowed an entire bottle of sand, and the flask of water isn’t doing much to solve that issue.

His head is pounding - very annoying when he’s trying to measure out ingredients that he can’t remember clearly. Albedo grits his teeth, resolving to scribble down what he’d just added to the mixture, even though this would normally be child’s play. His fingers tremble as he writes - 3 g. Anm. Slime. 4.2 g. Crys. Fly.

The alchemist frowns, quill shaking slightly, as he tries to remember whether or not he’d added the fragile resin three seconds ago, and with a slightly frustrated sigh he shoves the concoction into the waste bin, restarting the experiment once more.

…

The ashes swirl into nothingness from a raw sneeze for possibly the fifth time, although truthfully he’s lost count. A soft groan, and his nostrils rebel, red rims expanding as his eyes flutter shut, and his handkerchief finds its way underneath; the feeling of his mouth opening is almost second nature at this point and Albedo gasps, his whole body gripped by the urgency of expelling this itchy sensation…!

“hy-hAHHKSH-hhUUH! h-hAKASSHUiuhh—!”

He rubs at his nostrils with the handkerchief, smothering a few harsh coughs into the fabric, utterly miserable as the congestion forms a pounding headache. He’s driven utterly to distraction by the freezing cold temperatures, which to his dismay have not improved in the slightest; as some semblance of night falls he finds himself clutching at his arms, shivering so violently that it seems his workspace is vibrating. It’s utterly ridiculous to even consider working still at this point, but Albedo is determined -!

His head pounds again, more powerfully this time.

He ignores it.

“You still kicking, Albedo?”

The alchemist in question suddenly starts, dropping the ingredients and groaning as he ruins the process yet again. “O-oh, coming..!” More pressingly, someone’s at the door, so he hurriedly whisks the mess away with a wave of his hand. The world seems to tilt to the side as he stands up too quickly, and for a moment he can only wobble in place, gripping his chair tightly for support as his vision blurs with many colours.

Freezing cold wind enters the room as he peeks out, eyes meeting a blue-haired knight of Favonius.

“Cavalry Captain..?” Albedo’s voice feels rusty from disuse, so he clears his throat slightly into his fist. “What are you d-doing here..?”

What indeed, would compel anyone to go to Dragonspine during the winter, during this awful snowstorm? Albedo can barely keep his eyes open against the frigid winds that are causing him to shake uncontrollably despite the layers he has on, and the head cold isn’t helping matters - letting the icy frost penetrate deep into his bones as his teeth chatter helplessly.

The man simply chuckles, shaking his head. “Did you seriously forget what day it is?” Kaeya’s expression is one of mild amusement.

Bewildered, Albedo glances up at the sky, as if the dark clouds and the blustery snow will tell him anything about the passage of time, and then back at Kaeya’s bemused expression. He strains his throat to be heard above the howling winds, teeth chattering so badly that his words sound unrecognizable. “I’m s-sorry, please remind me. If that’s alright.”

“The Acting Grand Master asked me to ask you if you were going to give us the heatshield potions for the mission anytime soon.”

Albedo’s eyes widen, before he regains his composure. How could he have forgotten? “I-.. I haven’t completed that assignment.” He smothers another cough, thankful that the other hasn’t mentioned it by now. “I can finish it by tomorrow, though.”

Kaeya tilts his head in apparent agreement. “Mind if I stay here, then? I’m supposed to bring the potions back.”

The blonde-haired man nods, though his eyes are distant; he can feel some sort of tickle in the back of his throat, migrating towards his sinuses, and it’s terribly distracting.

“You ok there, Albedo? You’re not looking too hot.” Kaeya’s voice drifts towards him, and vaguely he discerns a concerned expression on the other man’s face.

Albedo opens his mouth to respond, and…

His nose itches so badly, so suddenly, like a sharp feather-blade twisting its way into his nose, and he has to hold his breath, teeth gritted, in order not to sneeze directly onto the other man, and to his great relief, he manages to keep the nigh-inevitable itch from escaping all over Kaeya’s garments…!

“Albedo?”

He blinks, an apology already making its way out of his aching throat. But when he opens his mouth, a raspy cough escapes instead, turning itself swiftly into a burning itch in the back of his nose and throat and instinctively his body attempts to expel the sudden irritation - his hitching coughs spluttering into a - “h-hhaahh-kkshu-uhh-!! h’-AKSH-!! ‘aKsHHHUH—!!”

A firm hand on his shoulder steadies the ailing alchemist. Albedo looks up at what appears to be three spinning copies of the cavalry captain, and he stifles a groan.

“Whoa, there. You alright…?”

Albedo blinks, trying to make sense of the gibberish flowing from the other’s mouth. “Um… Y-yes.” His words do not sound very confident, especially considering that he shivers violently right afterward.

“Try again.” Kaeya lets himself, and a strong gust of frosty wind, into the cave, and as Albedo shudders the knight smoothly slips off his furry scarf, tying it loosely around the blonde-haired man’s shoulders. “Archons, Albedo, you’re burning up.”

“So I am.” The Alchemist’s voice is quiet, eyes rather distant as he leans away from Kaeya’s hand reaching for his forehead. “…O-or perhaps, y-you’re th-the one that’s cold…”

His poor attempt at a joke is interrupted by a quiet curse from the fireplace. “Do you not have any firewood…? In Dragonspine?”

“Did earlier..”

He must’ve sounded rather pitiful, as Kaeya stands up immediately and makes his way to the door. “Stay right here, I’m gonna have to get some more.” Just like that, he’s gone, sending another chill into the room.

Albedo’s attempt to stop him - opening his mouth to protest, has left his own nose protesting, and he stifles a sneeze into his palm - “h-iIIkhshUUH-!” Well, now it’s too late. The wind whistles outside and he has no ability to follow given his current state. Now the only thing he can do is to obey Kaeya’s order to wait.

Albedo listens for all of about three minutes, and that’s mostly because he’s summoning the strength to stand again. As soon as this capability is returned to him, he’s once again sitting at his desk, staring at the elemental dust in his workspace. He definitely has time to finish the potions before Kaeya returns.

He is about to mix everything together when he realizes he needs more flaming flower stamens. The most important ingredient in the potion. The only reason he’s not kicking himself, physically, is that he left some in the storage just a two-minute walk from this lab.

It’ll be a short trip.

Albedo’s opening the door before he can think twice about it.

The biting frost stings at his numb fingers. Albedo’s been shivering nonstop for the whole day so the fact that he’s shivering barely registers.

By the time the shaking gets worse, the path is hidden under layers of snow. His feet sink into the powdered frost, leaving them soaked with cold.

Everything looks so unfamiliar, even though he’d lived here for so long.

It’s another five? Ten? Minutes before Albedo finally admits he’s lost, coughing harshly into the scarf that Kaeya had lent him.

Snow feels like nothing against his already-numb fingers and wet against his knees.

Navigating this is impossible, given that he can’t keep his eyes open for even a moment before the snowflakes catch in his eyelashes, fluttering as his nose compels him to duck forward into frozen hands -

“HH-iIYEESh- h’kSHIeyyUUUh!!!”

He sprays sneezes against the sparkling snow, the sound lost to the howling wind.

Albedo’s eyes are burning with cold and hot and the same time, as they stream with tears from the force of ejecting his tortured lungs via sneezing and coughing -

A warmth upon his shoulder, and he hazily looks up, sky and snow blurring together.

A certain blue-haired Knight of Favonius stares back at him, frightened concern clear in his icy eyes - his lips move, but Albedo doesn’t hear anything over the roar of the blizzard.

He simply melts into the other’s touch, too dizzy and too weak to move on his own, and thankfully the other man supports both their weight against the wind and snow. It feels like forever, struggling against biting cold that burns at his nose and ears and -

Albedo gasps, muffling a coughing fit into his frozen hand, and his nose, offended by the frigid snowflakes, immediately sends a stinging itch through his congested sinuses - he sputters, breathless. “hiIHk-sHuh-!! hikhssh-hiIhkSHHuuh-!!”

The wind lessens and Albedo manages to crack an eye open against frosty air to see Kaeya bracing himself against the snow, protecting them from the brunt of the storm as they continue to shuffle in the direction of Albedo’s abode.

“-hiiIh-! hih-! h-hiIHKHSH! h’ksHUH!” A dizzy sneeze leaves him leaning heavily against Kaeya’s chest, and luckily the Cavalry Captain does not falter. Instead he speeds up, all but dragging his companion into the safety of their shelter.

It’s a single moment of silence after the raging storm outside.

Broken swiftly, a few seconds later.

“What were you thinking?!” Kaeya all but yells, breathless from exertion. “You’re sick! What were you doing outside?”

“I’m used to snow,” Albedo responds, weakly, and his own raspy voice sounds pathetic to himself. “Had to get some ingredients fr-from…” His nose scrunches up and his weak voice trails into nothingness, and he catches Kaeya’s wince of sympathy before his eyes slam shut. “fr-uuuHhkShu! uuhKSHHiyyuu—!!”

A wet sniffle, followed by a few congested coughs, and Albedo moans, involuntarily, from the discomfort.

“Here, I gotcha -”

The next few minutes are a blur, and by the time he regains actual consciousness a fire is roaring in the hearth. He’s wrapped in a blanket. Albedo blinks slowly.

“Th-thank you, Kaeya-”

He sniffles into the blanket.

“Don’t mention it.” The man looks at him sideways, a soft huff of relief escaping. “Do you usually… do this?”

He does not usually catastrophically fail his commissions, so his back stiffens with offense. “N-no, I assure you, I do not tend to forget my tasks-!” Albedo’s voice starts to waver, “...It was… I…”

To his horror, his eyes are watering.

“...I…”

He has no explanation, really, for his failure.

“...I can g-get the potions made by tomorrow, so t-that y-you c-can-h-uHH-!”

Albedo’s arms feel like lead; he can’t raise them in time to cover his nose and mouth, so he instead ducks his head downwards into the blanket, nose burning - “iiIIHIhihksHHUh-i’kHShuh-hiiuuhh-uh-!!”

He raises his head up again, sniffling. “..so th-that.. snff.. you can leave qu-uickl-yiiiSShh-hi’ksSHHuh-!”

“Albedo. I didn’t mean it like that. You can’t just…” Kaeya sucks in a breath, eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Look, how are you going to make anything if you’re half-dead in a snowstorm? Which you were going to be if I hadn’t…”

His voice trails off. “Point is, you have to take care of yourself. You mean a lot to m- people, as a researcher… and as a friend.”

“I’ll take that into c-consideration.” The words have left a peculiar warmth in his chest, which does more for his cold than the fireplace ever could.

Kaeya smiles, holding a handkerchief to Albedo’s scrunched up nostrils. “Well, for right now… Let me take care of you.”

#my fic #asks #snz #snzblr #genshin snzpact #a/lbedo #k/aeya #g/enshin i/mpact #happyholidays :)#rushed ending oops

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