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nexusnyx · 1 year

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fuel to fire

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 8 — The night it finally happens. [“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time now.”] [5.8k]

— Joel Miller x f!Reader — Summary: His brain was cursed by words she read not too long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime already. When you come back to him, Joel's hit with the notion—there was no denying what you were. What you meant to him. — A/n: This is a sequel to imagine being loved by me, but it can be read as a stand-alone. I love my old man and I wanted him to have the end of the book. [shrugs] | 🏷️ Tags: pre-established relationship, roadtrip, sexual tension, making out, some horny thoughts (& promises), a more possessive!Joel than I'm used to; Ellie & Reader bond; pre-smut build up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part one ←

ㅤㅤㅤdo you want me on your mind ㅤㅤㅤor do you want me to go on ㅤㅤㅤi might be yours as sure as i can say ㅤㅤㅤbe gone be faraway 🎧

Coincidences were not real.

When the third so-called coincidence happens, saving not only Joel's but also Ellie's life as consequence, he knows something bigger than him is happening.

Of course, his ear is ringing when he realizes that, and he's in shock for the countless moment in his life—frozen and unable to stop the panicking heartbeat rising inside his chest because he almost died, again, and Ellie almost died, again, but something intervened and—

it's you.

Joel's chest expands. It grows what feels like two sizes, and he gasps. Out loud.

The two bandits who only just a minute ago tried robbing him and Ellie are dead on the ground, and yet, all Joel sees is you. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs — his whole chest itches with the despair that the sight of you causes, but what wins is the knot in his throat, the sting in his eyes, the undeniable wave crash of relief over the fact that you're here.

Joel dashes.

He runs to you, his own feet moving before his brain is back to functioning.

Hugging is not something he does.

He's cradled you in his arms before, he has slept in your arms and had you sleeping on his chest, all tangled in his limbs, but hugging is like kissing.

It's intimate. Raw. He avoided it for the longest time, much like he ignores the idea of feeling anything or still being alive.

Still — When his arms wrap around you, they do it tightly.

His scream is kept inside, and Joel only breaks in your shore with how much he feels for the fact that you're here, you're here. He crashes against you, hugs on tight, squeezes, inundating you with his smell of blood and sweat and Joel — he's shaking, but beyond caring. You're here.

If you mind the way he throws himself at you, it's only for a second. There's a moment of delay when Joel's trembling is too much for him to have space to realize how rigid you've turned out of nowhere, and then — it's gone.

The incessant and annoying goddamn ringing from the shots is continuous. His ears register your voice nonetheless.

"I expected a lot more screaming, but... this definitely makes up for the sixteen hours drives."

He feels your arms wrapping sort of weirdly around him.

He recalls there's a gun still in your hand, and that's probably why — Joel knows your finger's off the trigger, and he just wished you'd press your hands on him, gun or no gun. Your hands are stronger than they seem and he's missed them.

Knows you're shaking, too, and not because he feels it, but because he knows you hate fire weapons.

His hands hold onto the back of your head, hips, he grips your arms.

So, not a dream. Or a hallucination.

"You're here," he babbles.

"I'm here," you confirm.

Joel buries his nose in your neck, in your hair, smelling you. He can barely soak up your words and his body is in too much shock to feel the hug that's grounding him, but the more he feels you, the more he's okay.

It's only when Joel hears the sound of his name being screamed that everything slots back into place again with a click.

"Joel!"

Ellie.

He whips around, panic rising again over a new reason.

The wild monologues that start whenever she's around danger go at hundreds of miles per hour. The 'is she okay did she get hit is she hurt are you hurt is everything okay' —

"Are you ok?" he echoes, hands still resting on your shoulders.

Ellie's eyes are on you instead of him.

"Who's this?"

Joel turned his right side to Ellie — the habit of keeping his good ear to you seems to be sewn just as tight as ever in him, and he hears your scoff before your words. "This is so fucking insane."

Ellie looks over to Joel. "Yeah, I'm ok. You know her?" she asks again, all in one breath.

He nods. "I do." His hand squeezes on your shoulder, hyper-aware out of nowhere that he isn't alone anymore on this, and they are still alive. Because of you. He turns to you. "I trust her. This is my —" fuck, he always hated this part. "Uh — we lived together."

"Hi." You offer Ellie your name, plain and simple, then turn your head to Joel. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Ellie's not done with her questions. "If you trust her, why wasn't she with you when you and Tess went to get the battery? Or when you made the deal to take me?"

"Because Tess and I needed her to stay and take care of things 'till we came back," he answers. The implicit 'we never came back' hangs in the air, and Ellie's posture changes.

The only reservations in her shoulders evaporate, and she nods.

That's all she seems to need to accept you — an explanation and the guarantee that you have his trust; Joel's surprised by how fast she is to trust his words. His judge of character, or situations, and not for the first time.

"How did you find us?" Ellie asks, and this time, it's directed at you.

It's Joel who answers, though. "She's one helluva tracker, that's how."

He sees you nodding at Ellie, and wonders if she said something in reply that his ears missed.

Joel's hand touches your face, still in awe. You lean against the touch, but his eyes don't miss it when it happens — the sweep.

"Where's Tess?"

Joel's stomach sinks.

It's been exactly three days since the Hotel incident.

Since Henry and Sam.

Since the taste of mourning, death, tragedy. All of it still lingered in his mouth, clouding his brain, creating tension between him and Ellie. The cycle of life, the fragility of everything and everyone around has made him uncomfortable since the outbreak, and even though all he craved was to offer the girl comfort, Joel was unsure he still knew how to.

Bile still rises high in his throat when you mention her name, and Joel feels for her death.

This time, it's an empathy feel — he feels it for you, and he's surprised when there's a tangible second wave of it; when Joel's eyes find Ellie's, she's looking away from you two.

Grief carries a heavy weight, and it becomes inevitable that it shows in the face.

"Oh," you say.

He doesn't hear it, but he sees your lips forming the word.

Joel hates the world, but he hates how impossible it is that everyone is doomed to living in it. Whether one wants it or not.

Fingers squeeze around his hand, and Joel looks into your eyes waiting for his. "Let's go. You can tell me everything on the way. We're heading to Wyoming, right?"

Ellie's widen at you, and Joel wonders how long it'll take for the hero worship to start.

He had it within two days of meeting you.

"We are," Ellie replies.

"Okay. We should get out of here. Ellie, right?" You let go of Joel to walk in her direction. "You okay, kiddo? Is anything bruised, something we need to look at before we get in the car?"

Ellie's look exchanged with Joel carries an entire conversation, and when she turns back to you, Joel realizes the weight she puts on his words.

"Ah — don't worry about me. I'm kinda — of immune. To the whole thing. It's why the grump over there's risking his neck to take me and everything. So. No need to worry. I'm all good."

You take in her words, look back at Joel in search of confirmation in his features and when you find it, you say it again. "Oh." His approval means things. He realizes that now, right there and then, because of both Ellie and now you.

That's all you need to believe it.

Joel needed a month, denying it to himself over and over until he was blue in the face, Tess was gone, and nothing fucking happened, and all it took was a slight nod from him for you to turn back to her and say,

"Well, immune or not you can still sprain something or get hurt. So — are you hurt? 'Cause we tend to any bruises before we keep going, and we really need to keep going. I'm sure these two idiots weren't alone."

Ellie moves her whole body as if doing a complete scan and nods to you, sharp and more obedient than she usually is with Joel. "I'm okay."

He sees you narrowing your eyes at her. "Ok. I'll believe you know yourself well enough to let us know if you need anything." With a tilt of your neck, you ask. "How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen. How old are you?"

"Oh, way older than fourteen."

"Really?! You look kinda young." Ellie grabs her backpack from the floor and swings it on her back, and you share a look with Joel before answering.

"Ah, I know. Looks can be deceiving, though. I was your age when the outbreak happened," you share.

Ellie gasps. "No way."

"Yes, way." You chuckle. "C'mon, old man. We need to get going. These roads are really dangerous."

It's horrendous how much can happen in such a short span of time.

Joel updates you on everything on the first night you three camp together.

Despite your numerous trips of over ten hours to catch up to them, you're the one behind wheels. It makes it easier to avoid Ellie's first-moment curiosity, to keep up a good path since Joel's eyes can focus on tiny details much better than yours, and you two need to go only a few hours away to know you've built up enough space between anyone who might've seen and wished to follow you guys and the impossibility of being found.

Setting camp mid-woods is easy. The kid — Ellie, fourteen, loud-mouthed, persistent, a volcano waiting to erupt — is good at following instructions, and she's been under Joel's systematic thumb long enough to know a lot without even needing a nudge.

By the time nightfalls arrive, Ellie's eyes are drooping.

You're re-organizing the supplies and only listening to her and Joel's short back-and-forth. It's entertaining, as much as it pokes at your curiosity.

He seems — comfortable.

In his own way.

He answers her, checks up on her, scoffs at her terrible attempts at conversation sometimes.

"Are you gonna finally sleep today?" she asks once her body's tucked inside the sleeping cot.

"She's here," he nudges his chin towards you. "So — yeah."

That means he's been up for some reason. Probably has something to do with the mess you found in their trail. With the tension that's so obvious in the air. That fragile and thin layer of something unsaid — something big and sad that happened and dented the air around them. You'll find out soon enough.

"Good." Ellie gets a little more comfortable inside it. "You're a little annoying without your beauty sleep."

You snort at it — it's too hard not to.

Joel gives you a pointed look, and you still notice the little aura of pride inside Ellie's bag.

It takes an hour before you're finished organizing things to your liking.

The tidying up was a way to placate you. Being in Joel's presence again sent you into disarray, even if you'd been searching for longer than a week already.

When he seems to deem the silence good enough — or maybe it's Ellie's deep quietude and lack of movement — Joel speaks up.

"How long did you drive? And how often?"

You turn to him, securing the trigger on your gun. "Longer than ten hours. A few days."

"The car?"

You roll your eyes. "You really think that gorgeous blue pick-up's the only car Frank's fixed over the past decade?"

Joel only nods. "How bad was it? Our trail?"

At that, you pause. Take a moment to respond, swallowing down the knot of guilt and bitterness you convince yourself is inexistent. "Bad." Just like Joel ignores the idea of feelings and living, you ignore the bile in your throat due to death. Horrors. Things you do or see. "Really bad, Joel."

He sighs and looks down at his lap, slowly. "Fuck," he mutters. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah."

"How worried should I be?"

"Not that worried. Whoever was in charge seems to be gone — the group's a bit of a wreck and whoever sent those few guys to find you will have a lot of other priorities besides a man and a kid they never met, I think."

He takes a while to nod at that, reading between your lines for the first time since the re-encounter.

I took care of it.

No one was coming after him, or the kid. Not now, not ever.

Not as long as you breathed and had a saying in it,

Joel opens his mouth and closes it. He looks away from you to say, "I've been trying my best, but — it's fucking hard."

"Of course it is." And of course this mountain of a man would be blaming himself. "I wouldn't have been able to find you two without it, if I'm being honest, but — there were more people coming after you two than I anticipated. You both and a Sam and Henry?"

Joel's head snaps up, and there it is.

The reason behind that thick and slimy feeling around him and Ellie — the veil of something you were absent to witness but still could smell in the air.

"What happened?" you ask.

Joel looks over at Ellie's sleeping cot, sighing once more. "You wanna know just about them or... can I go from the start?"

"That'd be nice."

"Alright." So he starts from the top. From the day he and Tess left for the batteries and came back with a mission that was supposed to have them only for a few days, but instead, took her away from this Earth and pulled him miles away from the QZ and everything he knew for years.

Joel tells you everything, and while he speaks, all you can think of is how good he looks. How you can breathe now that he's here, and you hold onto that because if you think of the rest, you'll crumble. Like always.

Tess.

No— Joel tells you about their visit to Bill and Frank. You focus on that.

"There was one for me, too," you whisper.

Joel's moved to the same tree you're sitting under, finding comfort by your side. "One what?"

"A letter."

His shoulders stiffen. "Oh. That — makes sense. Frank really liked ya."

"I didn't read yours. Don't worry," you knew him well enough to know he liked his privacy.

Joel snickers. "Nothing in there you wouldn't know. Bill was a grump, they were happy in the end, and he told me I could get anything I wanted from the house to help keep my — mine happy."

"Damn. Being married kinda merges you, huh?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They sound kinda the same. Bill and Frank — or at least, their letters did. Frank told me that amidst all the disarray there's still a chance for luck, I should lean on my gut more 'cause it's always right, and I could get whatever I wanted."

Joel hums. "That's nice."

"Yeah. I, uh—I buried them." You hate how your eyes sting at the memory. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, so you turn to him. "They — from blood to earth. They deserve a full cycle."

The way he stares at you makes you wish you could read minds. Inside, your chest tightens with each detail you take note of him. The cuts and bruises do nothing to deter his beauty away.

Joel has that look of sharp edges and impenetrable walls, but his eyes are his doom — yours can barely look away from them all the time.

They carry everything.

The guilt, the missing, the hopes he wished to bury so many feet under, the uncertainty and fear that no one can escape.

You sit right next to him and listen to all of it, and when he's done, you wished you had the excuse to hug him again.

You wished you felt confident enough in what existed between you two before he left so that you could lean over and kiss him.

Offer him comfort.

All you can offer is, "Thanks." He's told you everything. He's tired. The bags under his eyes are deep. You wished you could run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep, like you did a few lucky times. "Get some rest. I'll sleep in the car tomorrow. 'm keeping watch."

Joel's out within two minutes of laying down.

Even though he secured his body on top of his right side, in ten minutes he rotates, turning his body to you.

You keep watch with a smile on your face.

Women are... tricky.

Joel feels a little lost at first, and then it just amplifies.

When he wakes up, he can smell the food you've cooked already. You and Ellie are sitting side by side, talking — he breathes in deep and focuses his ear.

"...remember all that well, but it's not good when you do, too. I remember everything, and what good does it do?" you're saying.

Ellie's eating, slower than most times. "That makes sense. What was your favorite place to eat?"

"KFC. Fuck, I loved those wings so much."

Curiosities about the past she never got to witness. You were a much better source of information than him and he's happy Ellie's asking you. This way, she can get more than a few grumbled answers. He tunes out, and decides he can snooze for a few more minutes.

In the next two days, he's granted by the weirdness of what it's like to be outnumbered:

When you're in the car sleeping, Ellie asks about you.

Her first question, obviously, is: "So — I'm confused. I thought you and Tess were together? But now — I kinda think it's you and her? Oh my god, were you three a thing? Is that something adults do? Is it, like, allowed?"

Joel grips the wheel a little tighter and pushes down the desire to tell her to be quieter, damn it. "She's a light sleeper."

"Gotcha. Keep my voice down." In a lower tone, she repeats herself. "Was she your girlfriend?"

"No." Joel stayed out of the illusion one could have partners in this world.

"So it was you and Tess?"

"Also no."

"Dude, you can't lie on both fronts."

"Why does it matter?" he asks.

Ellie shrugs, shoving her face between both front seats. "It doesn't, not really—"

"Please, sit properly."

"—but like, curiosity might and definitely will kill me if you don't answer," she sits back, at least.

Joel sighs. Looks ahead of the road and remembers the smell of pages mixed with the innate scent of you. "We... were close."

"You and who?"

"First Tess. Didn't really work. But —," Joel points at you. "We did."

Ellie gasps, out loud. Joel has to suppress a stupid grin that wants to come out — he knows she's watching him from the rear mirror.

"You are so grumpy, how the hell did you get with her?"

All he does is shrug his shoulders.

Ellie sits in silence for a few seconds. "Why didn't you kiss her? When you saw her?"

Because I never wanted to do something so badly. I was terrified. I was never terrified before both of you showed me I still have reasons to.

He shrugs his shoulders again, and avoids looking to his side.

The sight of your neck always lured you in — drove him crazy.

Seeing it and missing how it smells is the last thing he needs.

Joel needs focus.

Too bad all he wants is to listen to you read.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ㅤㅤ →ㅤㅤ →

His brain was cursed by words she read not too long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime already. When you come back to him, Joel's hit with the notion—there was no denying what you were.

Girlfriend was such a silly word.

It sticks to his head when Ellie uses it, and he has to look away from your knowing eyes for the next two days to come.

Girlfriend is stupid. Neither you nor Tess were ever his girlfriend.

Tess was a partner. She was a friend, she was like family.

You... you were solace. Peace, and light.

There was no denying what you meant to him.

The words you read to him that never left his head are what he last thinks of before he falls asleep.

"Oh, the dead past that survives in me and that has never been anywhere but in me! The flowers from the garden of the little country house that never existed except in me! The pine grove, orchards and vegetable plots of the farm that was only a dream of mine! My imaginary excursions, my outings in a countryside that never existed!"

There are a few days ahead left of driving before you three can say you're close to your destination, and Joel cracks on a cold night.

After Ellie sleeps and you two clean up the weapons you found on the abandoned warehouse, he turns to you.

"Did you bring The Book of Disquiet?"

Your eyes widen at the question, brows going up in surprise.

"You want me to read to you?"

So she brought it. Joel smiles despite himself. "All I've had these past days were horrible puns. I could use a good readin'."

"You laugh at her horrible puns," you argue, and the smile's growing on your face too.

"So do you," he accuses.

"Yeah," you admit. "She might need to work on her delivery still, but some of them are quite good."

The book comes out from the confines of your backpack, and Joel wished he still saw that glint in your eyes when he was close by.

Flames dance in your eyes when he whispered too close to your ear before — that fire; he misses it like a lost limb. It could heat him better than whiskey, and he hasn't seen it since you arrived.

Still — your voice is good enough for him.

Even if Joel sleeps with the ache in chest; the itch to touch, to feel, to possess. He drifts close enough to feel your body heat, and lets the words brought to life by you to lull him into a deep rest.

The Book of Disquiet ends, and you brought no others.

That means listening to more of Ellie's joke book. Telling Joel the short tales you have engraved in your memory. The jokes always come in a good time — you see in Joel a light coming on again when she draws the line for the first pun, and you imagine it must've been a while since he last heard it; Ellie tells only 'the best ones' as she likes to call, and some of them are actually worth it.

Hearing Joel laugh is a gift.

Nothing's ever just good. The cold arrives and with it comes real, pressing worries for your every day trip that go beyond the people and the clickers and, well, staying alive — things like the road, freezing to death, hypothermia.

Despite having all those things running daily marathons in your mind, most of your thoughts are interrupted with musings about is how fine Joel is. How warm he looks.

How warm you know he is.

The memory's not enough. In dreams, you're consumed by them. Joel licks the nape of your neck in your kitchen, presses you against tables, whispers filthy things in the middle of packed corridors; Joel in your dreams is the man you simultaneously wanted to run away from and make a nest of his lap at the same time.

Now, he's... different.

Ellie brings out in him the parts that you never got to meet.

You want to devour them.

Taste them at the tip of your tongue.

Joel's a father. It should be the furthest thing from hot, it should be anything other than attractive, but it is.

His stern looks at Ellie and the twists and turns in the road the lead him to being in charge, bossing the two of you around — every time you see the ghost of a man who once existed, all the instances where you catch a glimpse of Sarah's dad, you want to jump him.

It's ridiculous.

Two days after he asks you to read again, you crack.

It's nighttime and you've stopped at an abandoned barn to camp for the night. Hide from the cold. Rest, eat the canned food you found, rest.

All you can think about is him.

Your brain is a looping of JoelJoelJoelJoel, and even when you try to tear your eyes away, the magnetism of his presence pull them back.

You're trapped, and it takes only a few slips for him to notice.

Wind is howling outside, and Joel thought he'd be out from the ache in his bones.

Instead, he's trapped.

The camping was set up inside yet another barn, and the only light came from the lamp sitting between him and you. Joel shared his thermos bottle of whiskey and coffee with back and forth, focusing on how the temperature rose in his chest.

He is so focused that when he notices, it's too late.

Your eyes.

Burning with enough flames to light a whole coast on fire — your eyes are trapped in his hands, following each inch of their movement as he fiddled with the coin, or moved the bottle from hand to hand.

You used to do that a lot.

It was the first thing he noticed about your attraction — Joel could deny the flirty remarks and the way he was the only fortunate bastard to get a smile out of you all he wanted, he could bitch about how it was far from his fault that he was the only guy decent enough for you to like among his group of friends back then, but the staring—no.

The staring closed the deal for him.

He caught it when he was playing the guitar, back then.

Now, you just seemed lost in a trance, and so, Joel was trapped.

Once again, like fly caught in a web, he was glued to you.

"Thought they'd lost their effect on you." The words drift with the wind, carrying his low voice.

When your eyes snap up, finding his, he knows you understood. There's another glance where you seem to shiver under your coat, and Joel swallows thickly. Memories flood his eyes, nose, tastebud.

'Like — fuck, your fingers feel so good, Joel, fuck!'

'So thick inside me — ohmygod. Please—yeah, around my neck, like that—'

'I can't shut up you know I can't fuckin' shut up, your dick's fuckin' perfect—gimme your fingers, please.'

"Don't think that's possible," you finally answer.

Joel dares to take another look. You're looking at every inch of him apart from his eyes, and it pains him. Before he left, Joel had his body wrapped around you tighter than your coat is right now, and there's distance between you now that he has no clue where it came from.

He nods. "Sure is." Moving them to look at their back and palm, he shrugs. "They're just — hands."

"They're one of my favorite parts about you, and you know that."

The words do something to him. They sink a hook in deep, deep waters. "There's a list?" He asks. His voice comes out all small and surprised.

You chuckle. "I mean..." you trail off, looking to the distance, then inside to where Ellie's asleep. "It's you. 'Course there is."

His brows furrow.

"There it is." Damn it, he thinks. "The permanent scowl."

Joel forces himself to breathe, relax. The ghost of your fingertip pressing on the part between his eyebrows, smoothing out the skin is what gets him to crack. To step out of the trap and into something more familiar.

He misses you, and pretending he can escape the reality that people start to matter whether he wants to or not is not happening, the same way that pretending he stopped feeling things never stood in the way of him going to your door at late hours of the night in search for your body heat and your mouth to kiss — not for distraction, or comfort, or release, but because he could think of nothing else.

Joel liked to touch you because ever since he did it, doing it again popped into his mind as often as the sun rose in the sky.

He gets up from his wobbly, weak chair, and takes a seat on the hard floor, grunting with the effort.

Fuck his age.

He sighs, and decides to just throw it out there.

He looks up until he finds your eyes, no matter if you'll look into his soul or not. "I'm sorry I've been distant. I can't — " no, not can't, "I don't want to even start thinking about what that one over there's doin' to my head," he points with a finger to the inside of the barn, "and when you arrived it just made it all so — fuckin'," he stops again, grunting with his lack of eloquence. "It's all so much bigger, y'know? With you here, I just—I'm never not scared now."

"Even when you're sleeping?"

Joel laughs, humorless. "When I sleep I either dream of Ellie gettin' shot 'cause I missed that day, or you gettin' bit 'cause you tried savin' one of us, so no, baby. Not even when I'm sleepin'."

"Joel."

"C'mere?" he asks. He pats his knees, and when you follow the gesture, Joel's knocked in his chest by the speed with which you get down from your chair and join him on the floor, straddling his lap in a second.

Everything becomes so much warmer.

Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. Your heels entangle together on his back, and Joel's never been more comfortable. Your weight brings him that — silence, and warm, liquid peace. He rests his head against your chest, feeling you wrap around him just as tight. Hugging him, rubbing your cheeks on his hair, and his face.

You two must look like a stupid sight — squeezing each other and acting almost like animals marking territory, but the permission for intimacy is too inviting. Too earnest, too needed.

It's only when you two sync up your breathing that you calm down.

Joel pulls back to look at your face, but you've buried your face in his neck.

"Baby," he calls.

"Shhh." You kiss his neck, humming in pure delight. Joel feels nothing other than solace. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time now.”

"Have you?"

"Yeah." Your squeeze around his middle says the words are true. "I—I really missed you."

He's unable to say the exact words, but — "Me too." He feels the tickling of your sharp intake of breath, and Joel plants a kiss on the part that he can reach — your temple, cheeks, the corner of your mouth. "'m sorry this is so dangerous."

"Don't be. I'm happy at least I'm here. 's less dangerous with someone else to help."

Only my heart suffers more. "Guess so." Joel's hand squeezes at your sides. "When we get to Wyoming, we can rest there for a few days before we head back to the QZ."

"I'd like that. I need that," you add with a laugh.

"Yeah." Joel cups your face in his hands, thinking all sorts of unholy things. "We can have some privacy there," his voice drops at the idea of it, and so do your eyes to his lips. Joel smiles.

"Yeah?" Your mind is exactly where his is. Joel feels it in the heat rising in your body. "I really miss that."

He gets close enough so that his face is brushing yours; the tip of his nose bumps on yours, then traces your cheeks. "You do, baby?"

"So much."

God, Joel missed the sound of you begging. The last time he was in a community living with you, he was young and stupid. He hated how young you were, how determined you posed and how slick your looks felt. He hated the way he was definitely not the only man interested.

He recalls all the other people who he let talk to you, and his grip around you tightens. "We haven't been back there in a while." Joel licks your earlobe, warranting a whimper. "I ain't gonna let those idiots hit on you anymore, you realize that, right?"

"Why no?" you taunt.

Joel growls deep in his throat, and grinds his pelvis against yours just for the effect — the gasp, and the air leaving your lungs. "Mine." All his. "That's why."

Instead of answering, you crash your lips against his in a starving way.

Joel barely has time to react, but when he comes to himself, responding is even better.

He kisses you for god knows how long.

Until his lips are red, swollen, spit-slick. Until he can feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, feel the slow and subconscious movement of your hips on his. Until you're whining, biting at his lips, opening up for him so good and pliant that it drives him a bit bad.

He kisses until there's no air in his lungs, and then he gets it all back by breathing on your neck, sucking bruises into it and licking them better.

It's only when all the missing is out of both of your systems that the kisses slow down.

They slow, but never stop. Joel makes out with you to make up for what it must be years without a single kiss.

The more he gets intimate with your sounds and the way you can melt and fit against him, the more Joel understands he's addicted, and now nothing will ever get this away from him.

He'd kill for a single kiss of yours.

A look. A smile.

Joel would kill for you, but more than that, and even more dangerous — it seems he's willing to live, too. For you. No matter the odds, or the ways this could go. He lets you cup his face into your hands, pepper kisses all over it, and whisper how happy you are to be here with him, all while thinking:

i'll live for her. i'll do anything, but most of all, i'll live.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back. Just saying hehe.

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hihhasotherfixations · 7 months

Text

Kinktober Day 12: Hate/Angry sex - Price x Reader

Kinktober Masterlist

CW: fem!reader, rough sex, oral (m!receiving), unprotected p in v, angry Price - though not at you

So, the reason these fics of the last few days are late are cause ‘twas my birthday! So I’m catching up now but I figured for my birthday day fic I’d go a little more out than usual, hehe. Enjoy Price using you to blow off some steam ;3

Word Count: 3468

Walking in through the door, John slammed it shut, an anger and vitriol radiating off of him that had you wide-eyed and silent in a second, sitting on the couch and watching him.

“John?” You asked, but it was like he didn’t even hear you as he kicked off his boots, dropping his bag with only a little too heavy a thunk before he stalked into the house, an angry frown on his face.

Immediately, he walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a scotch and pouring himself a hefty glass, not even bothering with the ice he usually so meticulously put in whenever he poured himself a drink.

Leaning back on the couch, you looked at him, a worried look on your face. “John. Big bear.” You finally got his attention with the horrible nickname you only ever used to tease him, though this time, there was not a hint of teasing or mischief on your face, your brows pulled up in worry. “What’s wrong?”

Taking in the deepest breath you’d seen him take in a long time, it almost seemed as if he was trying to reel in his anger before he sighed out deeply, rounding the couch and crashing down into it right next to you, nearly sitting down on you and spilling his drink; though it was clear his mind was somewhere else as his face twisted up in frustration. “Fucking Norris thinks he can ground my team because he’s ‘higher rank’.” He spat, making air quotes at the end as he took off his hat and slammed it onto the coffee table.

“Whoa, hey, what happened?” You ask, placing your hand on his thigh, to which John started tapping his fingers into his knee.

“Colonel Norris – bastard that he is – decided to ground my team because of a mistake his men made while we worked together a month back. An op went wrong because of it and now he’s making it a whole case, trying to spin it on my team.” John seethed, his fingers stopping their tapping as he instead started bouncing his right leg, frustrated. “Because it’s being investigated, we’re not allowed to go out until it’s solved. But we had a fucking target right in our grasp-!” John sat up, his hand wringing an imaginary neck before he huffed out a frustrated breath, falling back into the couch as he covered his eyes with his hand.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” You frowned and John sighed deep, sitting straight to throw back half of his drink in one go, barely even reacting to the burn as it glid down his throat.

“We’re not getting this guy in our sights again. It took me three months to track him down and right as we were planning a mission to get him, Norris comes with this shit!” He hissed, partially turned to you now, just ranting to you. “And I’ve had problems with Norris in the past in Urzikstan but back then it could be excused by him simply following orders from higherup, but this time it’s completely him and I’m bloody done with this bastard!” He growled to you, a fire in his eyes that didn’t seem to want to die out anytime soon.

“Is there anything you can do?” You asked, hoping to diffuse the situation a bit though it had the complete opposite effect, firing John up even further.

“I already tried everything! I sent e-mails, told Norris in person to just hold it off for a week, spoke in meetings about it but this molded muppet used his rank to override any of my requests!”

Seeing he was not going to be stopping, you knew you had to do something.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do my job when he is coming in here during one of the most vital times happening in the last half a year?! For a thing we didn’t even do?! It’s ridiculous and I’m gonna-!” “John- John?” You stopped him mid-ramble, turning his face towards you. “You’re getting too worked up. You need to blow off some steam.” You spoke softly, watching him huff out a breath as he tried to reel himself in, realizing himself he was just throwing everything on you now.

“I know, but I really can’t be bothered. I’m not going to the gym and I’m through my cigars this month. I’m not doing anything else today, sorry Y/N but-“ “That’s not what I meant.” You interrupted him again.

At that, his brows furrowed in confusion and you shifted on the couch, leaning towards him and placing your free hand directly on his crotch, your lips centimeters away from his, causing his breath to hitch.

“Plenty of ways to blow off steam without leaving the house.” You whispered and John groaned, shifting as just your touch – palming him – had him turning hard ridiculously fast.

“Darling, it won’t be pretty.” He gasped softly, trying to keep his composure as he closed his eyes, his lips pressed in a tight line while he leaned forward to slowly place his partially drank scotch on the coffee table.

You however, leaned in and started peppering kisses down his neck while he moved back to lean properly into the couch, having deposited his drink. “I don’t need pretty. Seeing you so worked up is just doing things to me.” You admitted, continuing to palm his crotch, feeling his erection straining against the fabric of his uniform.

Groaning, John just threw caution to the wind, grabbing your hips and yanking you onto his lap, his mouth slamming into yours.

You barely had any time to squeak before it was a mess of teeth clacking and tongue, John wasting not a single moment to claim your mouth for himself while his hands went down and tightly grabbed your ass, squeezing.

Pulling your hips into his, he practically forced you to straddle him as he began to thrust up, rocking his bulge against your crotch desperately.

It rubbed straight against your clit, making your eyes flutter shut as you wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing back with fervour.

His hands wouldn’t stop groping your ass, running up and down the expanse of it before he released his right hand, using it to smack the flesh hard. “Take it off.” He commanded, barely breaking the kiss to say it, his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

“O-Okay.” You whispered, trying to catch your breath from the intensity and suddenness of the situation, only to get a firm squeeze to your rear again - you better hurry up.

Getting off his lap, you took off your pants, pushing them down and stepping out of them before looking at your husband.

His eyes were roving your thighs, his pupils blown out before he reached out and held you by the back of the thigh, right under your ass as he pulled you in. “Be good for me and take it all off.” He rumbled as he slid forward on the couch, leaning in to place his lips to the front of your panties, grazing his teeth across it and making you shudder.

“Yes, sir.” You whispered, getting an approving squeeze to your thighs as you then pulled your shirt over your head, unclasping your bra as well.

While you did that, John’s hands roamed up your ass, slipping under the fabric of your undies and up until he turned his hands around and gripped the fabric, bunching it up before tearing it off your ass, leaving you completely naked as he simply dropped it to the floor.

Gasping as he ruined your panties and threw them, you didn’t even have time to protest as John locked his arms under your ass and lifted you as he got to his feet, starting to carry you to the bedroom.

“God, you’re exactly what I need right now.” He murmured against your stomach, his beard rubbing across your skin, making you close your eyes.

“Use me however you want.” You whispered, one of your hands tangling in his hair, making the man groan softly.

“Are you sure, love?” He asked, kissing your stomach while he kicked open the bedroom door, only half an eye used to navigate his way around the house.

“Positive.” You smiled and a little growl left the man.

Before you knew it, you were dropped onto the bed, your husband crawling over you with intent. Yet before he could fully eclipse you, you placed your hand against his chest, stopping him.

“What?” He grumbled, clearly unhappy by being stopped but you just smiled.

Seeing the sly look in your eye, John narrowed his own, trying to deduce what you were planning as you slowly moved out from under him, sitting up while he followed until you lowered yourself off the bed and down onto the floor.

“Thought I could do what I wanted.” He challenged, his chest deeply moving up and down, betraying how worked up he actually was.

“I’m just here to help you along.” You grinned, moving between his legs as you then reached for his belt, starting to unbuckle it, never breaking eye contact as you opened his pants.

As you moved to pull the clothing down his hips, he gripped your wrists. “No, darling. If you want to suck it, you can. But I’m in control. Understood?” He asked, dropping your wrists to instead fish himself out of his underwear, hard and leaking a drop of precum.

Swallowing softly, you couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock, a low chuckle leaving the man when he noticed. Reaching out, he placed his left hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer while his right hand gripped the base of his shaft, angling it towards your lips.

Without complaint, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, immediately starting to suck.

Feeling that, John let his head fall back as he groaned, slightly rocking his hips. “Fucking hell-“ He hissed and you smirked around him, making the brunet snap his head down to you. “Don’t get cocky.” He warned and you innocently looked up at him, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, taking him a little deeper into your mouth.

Groaning, his brown furrowed in irritation as he clenched his jaw, his hand tightening in your hair as he then pulled your head down, making you take him even deeper.

Getting the reaction you were hoping for, you moaned around him, sucking as you bob your head, John helping you by beginning to move your head up and down, clicking his tongue to try and stay quiet when he felt your tongue swirling around him.

“God, keep that up.” He grunted, starting to lightly buck his hips up into your mouth while he pulled your head up and down.

Closing your eyes, you just relaxed your throat, letting John begin to fuck your mouth as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, his hips beginning to speed up.

Almost as if a switch flipped, John groaned as he began to lose himself, leaning forward over you as he thrusted into your mouth, moving deeper and deeper until you gagged, spit gathering at your lips as he continued to move, pleasure curling through him.

Reaching out, you placed your hands on his thighs, doing your best to stay put, tears in your eyes as he became more and more vocal, pushing past your gag reflex.

His hips eagerly pumped into your throat, his tip hitting the back of your throat as you drooled around him, both of his hands cradling your head, pulling you down onto his cock in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum-“ John choked out, abruptly pulling out of your mouth, making you gasp for breath while he panted, his left hand holding the base of his cock, almost as if he was stopping himself from climaxing.

“J-John-“ You whispered but his right hand moved from holding onto your hair, down to your chin.

“Get on the bed.” He ordered through his pants.

Wiping the spit away from your mouth, you nodded and slowly got up, climbing onto the bed while still trying to catch your breath.

Grunting softly, John shifted onto the bed again, spreading your legs as he then spit onto his fingers, reaching down to rub through your folds, only to find you absolutely dripping.

“God, you love me being rough, don’t you?” John huffed, spreading your slick onto his fingers as he then pushed two fingers into you, making you whine.

“Y-Yes.” You mumbled, blushing. Though he always held an air of dominance in the bedroom, John never truly lost himself, always being just a little too careful for your liking whenever he went onto the rougher side.

Pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, John growled softly, his eyes dark and intense. “You want me to fuck you then? Blow off steam?”

“Properly, yeah.” You whispered, taking in a sharp inhale when he scissored his fingers in response, a slight burn appearing as he stretched you out just a little too fast, needing to be inside you but wanting to prepare you at least a bit. “Leave it.” You gasped, John tilting his head, still scissoring his fingers.

“It’ll hurt, darling.” He growled softly, leaning down to bite at the sweet spot on your neck he knew by heart.

“I want it to.” You mumbled, grabbing his hips and pulling him down, making John huff.

“So you’re working against my command now too? Not even letting me prepare you.” He grunted, still moving along with you as he rubbed his cockhead through your folds, spreading your arousal on it as he clenched his jaw. At his words, you nodded as you bit your lip and the brunet growled. “Very well.”

With that, he pushed into you, not waiting or letting you adjust like normal as he instead shoved in to the hilt, groaning as he felt your heat envelop all of him, his eyes closing as he paused.

Opening his eyes, he then looked at you. “You asked for it.” He spoke lowly, the gravel in his voice twice as prominent as he began to move, his hands shooting down to your hips to hold you down; no easing into it as he began to rapidly pump into you.

Gasping at the burning stretch, you threw your head back, whimpering out a moan as your husband began to fuck you, his hips slapping into yours as he took you with short and quick thrusts.

“My team disobeys me, my superiors sabotage my mission, and now my own wife won’t even let me take care of her properly.” John hissed, a fire burning in his eyes as his thrusts intensified, strokes long and deep.

Your walls clenched around him as you moaned, a flush to your face from the anger and irritation radiating from him as he pounded into you, keeping you pinned down to the bed as you tried to buck away from him and into him at the same time.

“Stay still.” He growled, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room as he kept you down on the bed, his tip pushing into your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuck-“ You gasped, making John groan as he moved, his eyes half-lidded as he could feel every ridge of your cunt, wrapped so tightly around his shaft, rubbing into him as he pushed in and out of you.

“That’s right, take it.” He hissed, his left hand moving up to squeeze your breast while the fingers on his right dug into the side of your ass. “Just like that.” He praised, his voice still rough as he leaned his face back into the crook of your neck.

“John-“ You gasped, only for him to sink his teeth into your skin. “Shut it.” He grunted, bucking his hips into yours in a frantic pace, his cock hitting deeper because of the new angle, rutting into your cervix and making you cry out.

Feeling the entrance of your womb, a loud groan escaped the brunet, his tip bashing into it repeatedly, sending waves of pleasure and slight pain through you, making you moan out more.

“Fuck, you feel good.” The man grunted directly into your ear, making you whimper.

Huffing, he couldn’t take it anymore, pulling back from your neck to tear his shirt from his body, throwing it off the bed and allowing you to see the hair dotting his torso, leaning down into the v-line and happy trail connected to his cock currently thrusting deep inside you.

Groaning, John pushed his pants and underwear down his thighs, not willing to stop fucking you just to take it off, simply accepting it as he felt relief washing over his sweaty body, no longer completely cooking in his clothes.

Seeing his chest bare before you, you whined and reached out, running your hands down his pecs, feeling the coarse hair on his chest, hiding the scarred, warm, soft skin underneath. As you trailed further down, your lip between your teeth, John suddenly grabbed your wrists, swiftly pushing them down above your head.

“Did I say you could?” He growled, punctuating his words with a hard thrust, making you moan out. “Stay put.” He huffed, holding your wrists down with one hand while his other moved to your waist, holding you down while he slammed his mouth to yours, his chest pushed into you.

Whimpering into the rough kiss, your eyes rolled back as heat grew in your abdomen, feeling him fuck into you, your toes curling as he bottomed out with every thrust.

Pounding roughly, John was huffing against your lips with every thrust now, sweat gathering on his brow and running down his back, causing a sheen on his skin mirrored on your own, the exertion and pleasure coming to a head.

“John, please-“ You moaned, your legs weak and trembling, feeling your head start to go light as the heat spread, your walls clenching slightly around his shaft.

“I know, shit-“ John groaned, rutting into you with fervour as his cock began to twitch, feeling you clench around him.

Whining out a moan, you clenched your eyes shut as you arched your back, John moving his lips from your lips down the center of your throat, his teeth nipping and biting as he groaned out a moan of his own, trying to stave off his orgasm as he slowed down his thrusts, getting rougher.

“Fuck, please!” You cried out for him, only for his thumb to descend onto your clit, making you moan loudly as your back fully arched, your cunt tightly clenching down on him.

Feeling that, John moaned, his cock twitching while you came around him, your walls spasming and squeezing tightly, making him groan out low and desperate, his hips bucking as he continued to rub your clit, stretching out your orgasm.

“Good girl, good girl-“ He panted like a mantra, his hips bucking quick and sharp into you, your pussy so greedily taking him in, your arousal coating his entire shaft and leaking down your thighs.

Whimpering out as you came down from your high, John thrusted just a few more time before moaning low in his throat, shoving deep into you, filling you up completely before he released himself inside your walls.

His cum, thick and plentiful, spurted into you, making you whine out at the feeling of it splashing against your walls, your entire body flushed as you panted, exhausted and spent, your throat and voice raw.

“Bloody hell.” John panted, staying inside you as he lowered himself onto you, his arms on either side of your face holding him up while he tried to catch his breath. “Are you okay?” He mumbled after a moment, pressing kisses to the apples of your cheek.

“Never better.” You panted out, letting out a short and light chuckle before you reached an arm up and placed it onto his cheek. “Are you?”

Leaning into your palm, his eyes finally seemed to have calmed the storm, instead holding a loving look towards you. “Definitely a lot better.” He smiled.

Carefully, he rolled onto his side, taking you with him, refusing to pull out as he pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you.

“I love you.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too.” You replied, closing your eyes as you snuggled into him. “If you’re ever angry, you know where to find me.” You teased and John let out a rumbling laugh, kissing the top of your head again.

But then again, he was definitely considering on taking you up on that offer.

#hih kinktober 2023 #john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price #price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain price x reader smut #captain price x reader #price x reader smut #not edited

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eoieopda · 1 year

Note

Jadie, are you taking Stray Kids Requests now?! Omg. OMG. Can we please have reader and Chan being super soft after a fight? I feel like he’s kind of intimidating (not on purpose) when he’s annoyed but then so sweet to make up for it 😍

aaaah my first foray into skz writing 🤪 sorry to this man for being introduced mid-fight lmao.

established relationship au, precursory angst and a marshmallow ending

Fuck.

Bang Chan knew it the second he raised his voice that he shouldn’t have. He never did — ever — and the reason for that was buried in the bewildered look in your eyes. Even more jarring than his sudden outburst was the speed at which your surprise began to drown in half-formed tears.

Your rapid blinking had barely kept the tide at bay.

Chan’s friends had told him before that he often looked angrier than he felt. Knowing this, he did his best to manage the optics; to keep you from interpreting his frustration as something more intense. He’d been successful at it for years — until he wasn’t.

There may have, at one point, been a reason for his becoming upset — but he’d already forgotten what that was. Whatever it might have been, it sure as shit wasn’t worth the way you’d looked at him.

Just as soon as he started, he’d cut himself off mid-sentence and reached out for you like he always did. This time, you didn’t reach back. Instead, you’d recoiled like his arm was a snake primed to bite. When you promptly turned and walked away, you’d left him standing alone with his outstretched hand still in the air.

Fuck.

Chan had spent the subsequent twenty minutes pacing with the excess of his sweatshirt sleeves balled up in his fists.

His gut instinct had been to follow you out of his office, to not let you walk away angry — he fought it. You were more than entitled to space after being spoken to in that tone. So, that’s what he gave you — until he couldn’t stop himself from trying to make it right.

When Chan entered the bedroom, you were sitting cross-legged on your side of the bed with your back to the door. You didn’t acknowledge his presence when he crossed over to you, or when he slipped into the space behind you on the mattress. Radio silence, save for your barely-audible sniffling.

Shit.

“Baby,” Chan called out to you softly.

No response.

Shit.

He scooted closer, slowly, as if he’d spook you otherwise. You didn’t move away — a good sign — so he reached out and let his thumb graze gently over the exposed skin of your forearm. There was the tiniest shift in your posture; a microscopic slump of your shoulders. An ounce of tension dissipated.

Progress.

Chan repeated himself, “Baby?”

Then he punctuated his plea by placing a soft, experimental kiss on your shoulder. You sniffled, relaxed the tiniest bit more.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to shout at you, but I did and you didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a quiet, shaky exhale as if you were about to speak, but you said nothing. You did, however, accept his arms as they wrapped around you. Even better, you leaned back into his chest as he guided you into the space between his legs.

Chan kissed the top of your head and hoped you felt how much he loved you. In the event that you didn’t, he said as much, holding you even tighter: “You are my favorite part of every day. I’m sorry that I’ve done such a shit job of expressing that. I love you, completely.”

You remained quiet for a few moments. In that time, your closeness was enough for him; you didn’t owe him one goddamn thing. But you breathed in deep enough for him to feel it too, and then you said it:

“I love you completely, too… dingus.”

Stunned silence immediately gave way to breathless laughter. And when his mirth got too heavy to shoulder, you joined him in crashing sideways and smiling into the pillows.

A dingus and the best girl.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 8 months

Text

Playboy || PG10 {3}

Pairing: Pierre Gasly x fem!reader Summary: Pierre proves himself and makes promises. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut WC: 2.2k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four

Wind whipped through the gaping hole in the back of the Ferrari and you shivered from the cold, curling your knees up to your chest as Pierre drove back to the city. You expected him to take you home but he pulled into a far nicer apartment block and spiralled down the ramp to the underground carpark.

Slipping out of the car and into the well-lit carpark you saw the full extent of the damage and shook your head at the new paint job that was needed. “I’m sorry,” you murmured as you ran your fingers over the worst chips and dents.

A pair of hands came to rest on your hips and Pierre rested his chin on your shoulder as he looked at his car. “Don’t worry about it, insurance will cover it.”

“I was apologising to the car,” you said with a smirk but the move only served to split the cut on your cheek and fresh blood welled to the surface as you winced. “Do you have a first aid kit I can borrow?”

Pierre laced his fingers with yours and nodded as he led the way to his apartment. The elevator ride was quiet and you felt the tension rising as you idly played with the thick ring on his thumb. Looking away from the jewellery, you realised it was a mistake as you met his eyes and knew the feeling wasn’t one way, but the elevator was not the place to start what you had in mind.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Pierre all but groaned as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Like what?” you asked innocently, tilting your head to the side and peeking up through your lashes.

“Like I’m a playboy who will fuck you on the first date.” There was a sinkhole in the ocean of his irises and it was stealing all the colour from them the longer that he looked at you. He reached out and hit the button for the 12th floor again as if it would magically make the ride go faster. “I’m trying to prove a point and you’re making it hard.”

“Is there a rooftop here?” you asked as you thought of a solution.

“Yeah, for maintenance I think. Why?”

“Take me there first,” you urged and he frowned as he hit the button for the level above his. The elevator opened to a short hallway and you saw the stairs that led to a metal door so you tugged his hand and made your way outside, sticking a brick in the door to keep it from locking you out. “Lay down.”

“You can be quite bossy,” he chuckled but humoured you as he did as he was told, joining you on the cold concrete roof top. “What are we doing?”

“Stargazing,” you said as you turned to him, propping your head up on your hand. “It seems like a reasonable second date.”

“A second date already, hmm,” he smirked as you sat up and leaned over him with a matching smile.

“I think that officially means you aren’t a playboy.” You dipped your head down and he met you halfway, his large hands grabbing your waist to pull you onto his lap as he sat up and kissed you.

“Very clever,” he murmured against your lips, making you smile more.

“I’ve been known to have a few good ideas on occasion.”

He chuckled as his hands roamed your body, brushing along the hem of your dress and edging it up. “Any others you can think of?”

“One or two,” you breathed as his fingers slipped beneath the material. “But not here.”

There was a new urgency as you rose on unsteady feet and Pierre’s arm curled around your waist as if the distance to walk at your side was too far for his liking. After three quick presses of the elevator button and no instant result, he growled and you looked at the stairwell before kicking off your heels.

His laugh echoed off the concrete walls and he was quick to make chase as you raced ahead of him down the next floor where his keys were already in his hands and rushing to unlock the door. It crashed open as he turned and pulled you with him, your bodies sealing close together while your lips collided with a deep hunger.

He blindly kicked the door shut behind and his large hands splayed across your ass before gripping tightly and using his strength to pick you up. A moan escaped you as your legs wrapped around his hips and you felt just how bad he wanted you.

“Wait.” Your eyebrows lifted at the order he gave as he sat you on his kitchen countertop, his chest rising and falling with quick pants.

“Wait?” you echoed in disbelief, the needy sound making him smirk.

“You’re still hurt,” he reminded softly as he reached under the sink for his first aid kit before nudging your knees apart so he could step into the space. “Let me take care of you first.” He was gentle as he cleaned your cheek, the gauze turning pink with your blood, and he apologised when he opened the antiseptic wipe. “This might sting a bit.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Curiosity filled his eyes as he dabbed the skin dry before putting a little butterfly stitch over the cut. “What happened?” he asked as he cradled your jaw in his hand to keep you from looking away.

“That’s something that would need to wait until at least the third date,” you said with a shake of your head. “I thought you were going to take care of me.”

A cocky smile played at his lips as you challenged him and his hands brushed your dress up over your hips as he dropped to his knees. “Oh, I’ll take care of you, Beautiful.”

The first aid kit was scattered across the kitchen floor where you had knocked it off the bench in the throes of your first orgasm. He had enjoyed taking his time with you laid out, writhing under the talent of his lips, his tongue, his teeth.

The next victim was your dress, his impatience and strength breaking the zip in the frenzied need to remove all barriers between your bodies. Your hands had tugged his sweater over his head before pulling his shirt open, little white buttons popping off in all directions.

“Jesus,” you moaned as you ran your fingers down his body, feeling every hard ridge of muscle until you reached his jeans. “I knew you were going to be fit but fuck…”

He grinned proudly at the remark and took over removing him of the denim keeping you from reaching what you wanted. The thin pair of boxers did little to hide the length of him begging for freedom from the constricting material but before you could tug them down he was tugging you back into his arms and leading you to his bedroom.

“I’ll lose all my common sense if you touch me, beautiful, and then we will be in trouble,” he admitted as he laid you on his bed, kissing you before pulling back and rifling through his drawers for a condom.

You weren’t sure you were going to be able to feel your legs again anytime soon. The man was obsessed with making sure you were in a constant state of bliss and you were almost relieved when he couldn’t hold back his own release any longer. He had collapsed beside you with a deeply satisfied sigh before disposing of the condom so he could recover with you in his arms, your head on his chest.

His fingers danced lazily across your hip, tracing invisible letters and shapes on your skin until he noticed the changes in texture, the slight bumps on an otherwise smooth surface. Lifting his head, he pushed the sheet away and spied the scars in the dim light. “What happened?” He had seen the scars that littered your knuckles and palms, victims of the job you did - but these were different.

“It doesn’t matter,” you whispered, pulling the sheet back around your body as you sat up. “I should get going.”

“Stay,” he urged, but you were already leaving the room to find your underwear on the messy kitchen floor. “It was just a question.”

It was a question that there was no easy answer to. It was a question that opened the door for more questions, and they would surely lead to memories that were better off left in the recesses of your mind.

“It was just sex, Pierre,” you said as you felt him following you, “that doesn’t mean I have to bare my soul to you.”

You pulled your dress on but it hung open at the back so you grabbed his shirt and shoved your arms inside before he pulled you back into his arms and his lips pressed to your neck.

“It wasn’t just sex to me.” The quiet admission had your eyes closing and your head tipping back onto his shoulder. “Please, stay.”

“I can’t give you the answers you are after.”

“You already have.” He turned you in his arms and you could see the sadness swimming in the ocean of his eyes. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“Men make promises they can’t keep.”

“Not real men,” he said with a little laugh. “You’re probably thinking of those playboys.”

You rose on your toes and brushed your lips softly over his. “I don’t trust people very easily, but I’m trusting you. Please don't make me regret it.”

His smile made your heart skip a beat and when he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead you knew you weren’t going anywhere. You let his shirt fall back to the floor before brushing your dress straps off your shoulder, taking his hand and leading him right back where you started.

“So sex in your car is out of the question,” you giggled as you watched the playback of the dashcam. The man had a camera on the front, at the back and, more crucially, facing the driver so everyone could see exactly who it was that won the race. They would also see the heated kiss you shared after coming to a halt at the lookout. “A shame really, we look pretty good together.”

“I’m adventurous but not that adventurous,” Pierre admitted with an amused shake of his head. “You ready?”

Your finger hovered over the button to post the video, tagging D as well as the other Street Kings. “Long live the King,” you muttered as you hit it, uploading the file almost instantly. “No going back now.” Closing the laptop, you spun around in his gaming chair and looked up at Pierre. “Now what do we do?”

He glanced at his watch and saw it wasn’t even noon. “I know a place where we can kill a few hours.”

“The bedroom?”

He smirked and caged you in his chair, nudging your legs open with his knee. His oversized shirt you wore rode high up your thighs and his eyes lingered on the bare skin before he dragged them up your body to your face. “You don’t need to convince me, but I was thinking about something outside of the apartment.”

Less than an hour later you were pulling up at a racetrack on the outskirts of Nice, half a dozen cars already there.

“Hey Pretty Boy, how’s your girl running?” you greeted Charles as he stepped out of his Pista.

“Very well, thank you.” He looked between you and Pierre, his smile growing as when he saw the possessive arm curl around your waist. “Now you can finally stop calling me that.”

“Why would I do that? Pierre would have seen your mid-teen-crisis too. Plus, I have a better name for him now.”

“This should be good, let’s hear it,” Charles chuckled until you pressed your forefinger to your lips.

“Sorry, it’s not for innocent ears.”

Charles’ nose wrinkled with an idea of where it was heading and shook his head before leading the group inside. “Whose team are you going to race on?”

“What are we racing?” you asked as you walked past a line of Porsches but continued along to a few garages open.

“Not this time,” Pierre teased as he pointed to a smaller track you hadn’t noticed to the side. At the start line, Joris, Ilies and Arthur were already picking up their race suits and you cocked an eyebrow at the mode of racing chosen.

“Karts?”

“I thought you could race anything?” he challenged playfully. “It has an engine and four wheels.”

You cracked your knuckles and accepted the helmet and race suit he grabbed for you. “I suppose I could do with a warm up before the big race.”

“What race?” Charles asked with concern before looking at his friend. “You’re not getting yourself into trouble are you?”

Pierre couldn’t help sending a wink your way before he clapped Charles on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. I’ve got this.”

Click here for chapter four.

#pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x y/n #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction

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jlepixie · 9 months

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could please do a story where either 2008 bill or Tom have their first time with Reader who is innocent I’ve recently have been reading your story’s and I think they are really good btw :))

hi love! yes of course I can, thank you for the request and I really hope its how you expected. I decided to make a short story for both of them separately, and thank you so much, im still improving and I really appreciate every one of you, thank you again🤍

╰ ୨ Bill Kaulitz ୧ ╯

༶⋆˙⊹｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ ✩ ˛˚.

The date was like every other dates you two had, special and romantic, but this time you knew he was taking you to his hotel room for a reason. That reason made you fidgeting with your fingers on the passenger seat, not daring to look anywhere else besides your lap. Bill noticed that you were deep in thoughts since you didn't noticed the waiters back at the restaurant. He didn't knew what do to, so he decided that putting his hand on your thighs and a comforting smile would do it for now.

"Here you go my love" Bill's soft voice echoed in hallway opening the door for you. Not a second wasted, Bill gently tangled his fingers with you before he captured your mouth with his. What started as an innocent kiss, quickly heated up. Your heart was going harder than drums as Bill swept his tongue between your lips, tasting and teasing. You were so lost in heat and your own thoughts, you didn't notice you'd moved until Bill pushed you on the bed.

Bill took a moment to admire you from atop, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "Let's try something new" He knew you didn't had experience at all before getting together, and that made him love you more. Bill brushed his lips over yours and reached down to explore the most intimate folds of yours. You two had tried multiple times to bring you over the finish line, but due to your nervousness, those times were to no avail.

He took one of your hands into his, to guide it down to replace his own. "Touch yourself for me" Your cheeks turned a dark red "I can't." "You can. You said you can come when you do it on your own. Show me so that I know how to please you." Your pulse raced with nerves and arousal. For some reason you didn't wanted to look away, just the image of Bill in front of you was better than any porn you ever watched. You stayed focused on your own body as it hummed in pleasure while touching yourself. Your breath hitched as the moves you were making grew faster, jerkier. You were so close. Your lashes fluttered as to your own surprise, your orgasm slammed through your whole body. "Oh my god" you gasped. You were still recovering from the sensation you just had, that you didn't realised Bill had moved. Every inch of you was on fire. Truly speaking, your first orgasm in front of Bill made you relax a lot, and now all you could think of is how bad you wanted him being inside you.

Bill was already hard, how could he not. He just watched his girlfriend bringing herself to a climax. It didn't look long until he slowly entered you. "Are you ok?" You arched your back in pain and pleasure. "Yes, keep going" You wrapped your arms around his neck to bring him into a kiss. Bill's initial thrusts were slow, worried to not hurt you, but he couldn't resist how good he was filling you. There was only you and Bill, finally being a one. You moved your hips in the same rhythm with him. Bill groaned, hid thrusts were growing faster, harder. You were reaching once again your climax but now you weren't the only one. "Fuck, babe" You two poured everything you build this past months, you crashed over the edge first, Bill followed you soon after, your cries of ecstasy were hearing in the whole room, probably the other members of the band could hear you, but that didn't matter. All that was important for now, were only your two as you collapsed into each other's arms.

╰ ୨ Tom Kaulitz ୧ ╯

༶⋆˙⊹｡⋆ʚ♡⃛ɞ ✩ ˛˚.

Getting together with Tom, was a surprise. Knowing his history with girls, obviously made you nervous. Yes, you were beautiful, the guys from the band always complimented you, but you didn't had the experience of those girls Tom used to do. Last night, when you told Tom how unsure and insecure about your relationship you are, he gave you a hurt look and closed himself in the hotel room. Your main reason of that confession wasn't to distance yourself, you just wanted him to know that you are more or less scared that he wouldn't like how you are in bed.

"Tom?" you knocked on his door hoping for him to show up "Tom, lets talk about it, please" footsteps were heard on the other side of the door. Tom let you in without saying anything. The silent was killing you, that was until he said "I apologise for being distant last night, but I need you to understand that you thinking that I may be with you only for sex is killing me inside" Tom took a small pause and came closer to you "I need you to understand that you are the only girl I love, and I would wait for you to be ready, even if it takes years"

His words were burning into your brain "Oh Tom" you gently placed your hands on his cheeks, bringing him close for a soft kiss. "Im sorry, I love you too Tom" you breathe out, your stomach is on fire with excitement for him. "I need you to know that im ready for you" "Are you sure? I don't want to make you feel forced" one of your cute giggles came out "Yes Tom, this was the main reason of my talk" Tom placed a last soft kiss to your lips before slipping your stretchable dress over your head. That look of hunger in his eyes mixed with a bit of innocence and sorry drove you crazy.

When your dress is off completely, he places his tongue onto your nipple, teasing it with delicacy. He moves his mouth back and forth between your breasts, giving special attention to both of them. You gasp harshly when he grazes his teeth lightly over your hard nipples, sucking them with an exhilarating popping sound that slides off of his tongue.

“You’re so sweet,” he whispers. Leading you to the bed Tom turns you over on your back onto it, laying a pillow behind your head for support. “Shit. You’re soaked, huh?” Your eyes flutter open to the sight of him taking your underwear to the side, using his thumb to rub your clit tenderly. You blush hard at the sensation.

"Don't worry love, I will make you feel good"

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cephei-ea · 1 year

Text

Genshin - Argument pt2

Characters: Diluc, Ch*lde, Dainsleif

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Synopsis: You walked out after an argument and the guys are a mess

Warnings: cursing, mentions of assault, mugging, car crash and murder/kidnapping, ch*lde content, no HCs for this one sorry😔 Can be read as a stand alone but it may be confusing, refer to part one for a full experience. (Argument, genshin 2)

A/N: can you tell i rushed the fuck out of this after realizing how long it’s been since this was requested? This is not my best writing I have to admit my heat wasn’t in it for some reason and I’ve been super busy. I was hit by some old man in a sudan a few weeks ago and I only recently healed so I just finished. Enjoy

___

Diluc

Diluc ripped the blazer pulled taut around his strong torso off and discarded it haphazardly on the floor below. The material clacked together and landed with a dull thud with its weight in front of the fire. He stood, ripping his gloves off of his hands and loosening the shirt constricting his airway.

He hadn’t experienced true panic in a long time but the thought that you were most absolutely pissed off with him gave him chills that ran violently through the vertebrae of his spine. The fact that you up and left, intensified those chills. He was unsure whether you would be back tonight, next week or ever at all, but even considering entertaining the idea of you never returning to him made his blood boil beneath his veins despite his years upon long years of steeling himself and building walls up around himself. In his mind, you could do no wrong and if his dear lover had deemed it necessary to leave the house because something he said that had stung so badly, it must have been true that he deserved it.

Ripping the leather gloves from his hands, his skin crawled at the image of your back facing him. At the idea that you were somewhere he couldn’t find you and that you could have been in immense danger. At the sour, fist clenching reminder that despite the long hours of search he conducted for you, it proved inadequate, Diluc slammed his hands aggressively against the nearby ebony console stand. In one swift, yet piercingly angry motion, Diluc had belted every set of papers, folder, candle and any other item on the surface, to the floor. The crimson seeping from his hand did not cease for a moment and instead smeared against the wood of the console stand. The fire wielder dragged a hand through his unruly red hair and found that the knots building in his locks had become out of control. The hair tie used to keep his hair from his face was proving inadequate after so many hours of running and panicking.

Finally, after nearly ten minutes of trashing his office and then another 30 spent roaming the winery aimlessly in search of the strongest liquor he had and knocking down anything in his way, Diluc sat down at his couch. With his messy thoughts and scrambled heart, the building was left in total shambles.

The fire in front of him was dimming, the numbness and amnesia it’s bright light and the buzz from the alcohol he managed to dig up gave him, at once began to fade. Luckily, with his worried heart and a pounding headache, the world favored Diluc and allowed him to find sleep. Though his rest was all but pleasant, Diluc awoke a much more sane man. His irrationality from the previous night of delirium had worn off and he was ready to ask around for you. Call in as many favors as he needed.

Against his plans and his wishes, before the redhead could manage to sit up, an aggressive, dull pounding emerged beneath the skin of his forehead. He fell immediately back onto the couch, gripping his head, skin wrinkled with pain. For a moment, Ragnvindr did not attempt to so much as open his eyes again until he was sure he wouldn’t fall on his ass or vomit the second he watched the world spin. What woke him, albeit the pain all over his body and the protests his muscles screamed at him, was the sound of the doors to the winery opening.

Had he lost his mind?

Diluc must have lost his mind.

The maids and butlers wouldn’t be here for another hour or two and the building, still, was a mess. To say the least. He shot up from his seat, praying that when he turned to the door, he would find a servant that arrived early, rather than a customer.

Not only were his expectations not met, but they were far, far exceeded at the same time. Instead, Diluc found himself staring at you as you gaped at the mess burdening the building. Your jaw all but dropped, wide eyes staring at the shattered glass of a vase he swore he liked when you asked him, papers and an old telephone from an antiques store you two visited in your free time left forgotten on the floor. Everywhere. Looking up, you noted that Diluc himself, had been mirroring his panicked mind in the state of his winery. His hair was ruffled and knotted, clothes from the night prior still glued to his body.

“Diluc what the hell happened!? Did someone break in!?” You shouted, kneeling in front of a flower vase nearby and lifting it back into place. You liked that one, thankfully it was intact. A painting of you two in your 2 year long honeymoon phase was tilted on the wall. “I leave for five minutes, Diluc!! What happened to you, why are you bleeding!?” The vase as well as the painting, however, were both quickly forgotten. You instead lent your focus to your lover, crawled out of the couch and staring at you like you weren’t real. A thick white wrapping of bandages covered your abdomen, wrapped around your waist and the smallest of patches of red had seeped through the side. Where the glass shard from earlier had hit you. Dilucs mouth hung agape, he couldn’t find the words to say to you before you were kneeled before him. Using your strength to gather him in your arms and help him up. Though it didn’t require much effort on your part, Diluc could feel you picking up the pieces right in front of him. The pieces of his heart that had dropped when you left. He was quick to wrap his muscle corded arms around your neck and hold you against him.

“I’m... so sorry.” He didn’t lift his head in fear that if he did, you would be reminded of what he did, and leave him again. “Don’t go. Please, don’t.” The red head was only put at ease when he felt your secure arms hold him back. And though your hands didn’t reach far enough to touch around his back, Ragnvindr had never felt so at home and so relieved than in your warm embrace. He finally allowed a sniffle to escape him; but was sure to block you from the view of the countless tears slipping down his cheeks. “Where- where can I go without you?” This failed, however, as it was all too clear that you’d heard his quiet sobs of relief and the desperation in his voice. The last question in his mind was whether or not you would forgive him or not. Whether or not you could move on and forgive his outburst. The fit of rage that had left a small gash on your abdomen. And even if you could find it in your heart to accept his apologies, Diluc knew this night would be branded into his memory with a hot iron rod. His fingers tightened against your clothes and the knight could swear he felt his knees weaken when he saw the blood staining your side. How could he ever recover from this? From such a wicked sin? He couldn’t, for once, imagine the day he would forget hurting the single most important person to him. The idea itself was so repulsively vile that his stomach tighten with the weight of his actions. He gently pressed his hand against the wound, through the pain seeding through his own skin. “Darling, I don’t have the words.” He shied from your gaze, constantly blinking away the tears that threatened to spill again. What could he say to you? How could he know what you were thinking?

“Okay- okay, Diluc come here.” You placed a hand against his and gently pried it from your side, instead placing your lips against his knuckles when you felt the tremble beneath his skin. And the crimson dripping down his arms and outlining his veins. “It’s alright-“

“It’s not. It’s not alright.” He suddenly spat, eyes having softened upon watching as you forgave him.

“Diluc it’s okay. I wouldn’t lie to you, alright?�� The knight latched onto your hand so tightly, you feared it might have fallen off, should he have let go. “It’s okay.” Small sniffles, and another sob erupted from your ever stoic lover. Finally the walls of the strongest man you knew were coming down and you were awaiting readily to gather him in your arms and accept every apology he chanted.

Ch*lde

As soon as Tartaglia’s key alights his car with its colored LEDs, the gas pedal is nearly floored. You couldn’t have gotten far, surely. Surely, you were okay with all of the snow and slush caking the concrete roads at this ungodly hour. Surely, you would have kept a level head while driving and ensured your own safe. All the same, Childe gripped the steering wheel like it was keeping him from losing his shit. That it was. His eyes, burning bright and blue searched every bus stop, every bench, every dark sidewalk where you may have stopped.

“Crash reported ahead.”

His navigation blared, pumping a newfound level of fear into the blood of his popping veins. He never imagined a few words could end with the love of his life running in search of escape from him, of all people. That it could have resulted in the possibility of losing you so suddenly. That the consequence to his mistake would have been so grand. The ginger ground his teeth to dust, pressing on the gas until he was doubling the speed limit. Still, not a gust of a wind of your presence or merely your scent, whatsoever. Nevertheless, his speed did not hinder him from checking the car parked on the side of the road, it’s hood decimated horribly by a girthy tree. The second he did not recognize the vehicle, he sped on, sighing a breath of relief he had no idea he’d held in until the moment it escaped him. Childe could not comprehend all of the terrible things that might have happened to you in this cold, icy weather. Nor did he want to. The guilt from his having said something cruel enough to make you leave crushed him under its weight alone. The ginger wanted to pull out his hair. Might something have happened to you during the time which you were meant to be under his protection, his worries would not have lied with his reputation. But in the fear that you would not return to him.

Childe slammed his hand against the steering wheel, blaring his horn at a slow car in front of his. He didn’t have time for this. No time to wait for you. No time to wait on this perfectly sane person. No time to be waiting around for you as if you’d fall into his hold once again. He could not, Childe opted, give you the time to consider leaving him because you really would this time.

“Piece of shit.” He seethed through his teeth, swerving past the small Sudan as soon as a clearing to the side of the road opened wide enough. And it astounded him above all else, really, how fast you must have been going to have avoided his sights for so long. The wind howled, the blizzard seemed to pick up significantly, ice and snowflakes blaring at his window. It took the ginger all too long, too much driving, too much fear, too much gas to finally catch sight of the car you’d taken. Seeing it, a newfound relief washed over him like a tidal wave and he floored the gas pedal again. Childe thanked the good heavens that the freeway the two of you had entered was fairly unoccupied. Between the cars and the lanes of the road came opportunity for the ginger to swerve skillfully between tanks of metal in order to finally approach yours. You were quick to make your exit not long after, however. He was glad you didn’t seem to notice his car following you but as he thought about it, Childe hadn’t thought about what he would do when he found you. At the time of his chase, he had been too panicked to decide on how he would get you back home to him.

The car you’d picked came to a stop in front of the ocean. Though you couldn’t see the moon nor the stars, the blizzard seemed to have calmed momentarily. Hopefully, you thought, long enough to dip your toes in the freezing sea water and distract your mind from the screams of the argument you hadn’t resolved.

Childe watched you exit the car slowly, hair blowing wildly in the wind and frost almost instantly forming on the soft locks of your hair. You hadn’t expected it, despite the weather, to be so difficult to move your legs. To step away from the car you two shared and in your mind, just one step farther from a solution with your lover. Walking away from that car was like walking away from him, so your lead-heavy legs worked like steam engines to push you forward with your hesitation. It did not pass the harbinger how you had removed your shoes and left them in the car, reddening your toes and making your fingers tremble from the sheer cold. His panic hadn’t dissolved, however, and Childe struggled to unbuckle himself as quickly as possible. His lithe fingers fumbled hurriedly against his buckle and the car door handle. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fortunately for him, you stopped dead in your tracks the moment you heard his car door shut behind you. With wide eyes meeting his, you paced backwards.

How did he find you? You didn’t know. You thought you’d been sure you sped enough to escape him, even if he’d followed right after you (which you weren’t actually expecting). Just as quickly as you met his eyes, he’d sped to you so quickly you couldn’t back up. Childe looked livid, volatile and like if you said the wrong thing, he would turn red and explode. So you kept your mouth tightly shut when he picked you up and quite literally shoved you into his passenger seat. Finally sitting beside you once more, he looked to you, the windshield, down at his lap and back to you again. His hands trembled, unsure of whether to touch you, support his pounding head or slam against the wheel in frustration.

“What are you thinki-…. What were you thinking!!!???” Childe screamed at you, wiping a palm against his mouth in an attempt to calm himself. “Can you even fathom how afraid I was!? There is a Snezhnayan blizzard out here right now and you want to hit, what, 110 on the fucking highway!!?? Are you out of your mind!?” His eyes were red, a sudden change from his blue irises. “What if you crashed!!?? Huh!!?? What the fuck do I-…” he covered his mouth for a moment before continuing. “What am I supposed to do? If I can’t find you one day?” His tone was soft now, cold and shaky hands gripping the steering wheel like a vice and head resting against his forearms.

“You’re yelling at me again?” You spoke after many too moments of silence but Childe didn’t so much as lift his head. “Is this how you want it to be? Constantly screaming and cursing at each other over things that can be prevented?” You were sick of seeing merely his orange tuft of hair. How could you get him to meet your gaze? “How do you think I’ve felt for months now, Tartaglia?” The ginger immediately shook his head and for once leaned back into his seat.

“Don’t say that. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name.” The harbinger was long past recognizing his mistakes. His issue now was his guilt. Because, yes, he definitely knew how you felt. Those nights coming home half breathing had flown past him. Never would he have thought that they affected you so deeply, had you not said something. And at those times when he was so very tired, so very sore and ultimately craving sleep and nothing more, screams of displeasure and fear from his lover we’re of his least concern. He imagined you felt the same way at that moment. Listening to him scream about how you could have died had the highway not been so fortunately empty was likely nothing but a passing nuisance to you now. Hearing his harbinger name form on your tongue cut deeper than any wound he’d earned in battle. That name was reserved for those he did not trust and those who did not care for nor trust him either. The only name his ears craved to hear you speak was Childe, Ajax or a pet name. Now after such a long day and so much stress and screaming and driving, Childe swore he was going to have a heart attack if you continued using that godforsaken name of his.

“Try again. Maybe an apology, Tartaglia- why don’t we start with th-” you retorted, unprepared for him to cut you off with yet another scream.

“-That’s not my name!!!” He still wouldn’t opt to meet your eyes but you could tell he craved to with how his head shook. “I’m sorry. Okay, I’m sorry.” Finally his eyes were visible and you leaned forward to put yourself in his line of sight. Hesitant but relieved you didn’t seem angry, Childe finally complied. “I didn’t know it was so important and I brushed it off because I really didn’t think much of it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, if I knew it pained you this much I never would have ignored you.” He fought a small battle in his mind. Whether to try and grab your hand and selfishly soothe his own nerves with the softness of your skin or to allow you to come to him. He placed his shaky hand open in front of you, fingers bent and aching to enclose around yours. “Please. Don’t use that name.” If it made him feel like he’d lost you, it was clear you did not care. But when you placed your hand in his scarred palm, his fingers reacted like the teeth of a Venus flytrap and ensured you could not let go of him. He’d felt so sure of himself when he thought that you were overreacting when you scolded him for returning home hardly alive. Of course while it was clear to him how dangerous his line of work was, it hadn’t occurred to him that it would pain you emotionally as much as it did him physically.

“Okay, Childe. Tell me honestly. If me driving in the snow was so scary, how would you feel if I returned home every day from now on on the brink of death and bleeding into the carpet? Just imagine it-“ You’re voice shook with each word, holding back tears of frustration at the reminder of how much you despised the night time upon catching sight of his bandages again. The harbinger shook his head furiously in an instant. Then he did again, even more aggressively this time and his nails dug into your hand. He didn’t want to imagine that. He couldn’t. You reciprocated, knowing that he could imagine the stress he’d caused you. “Childe because I can’t-“ you clasped a hand over your mouth for a second and dragged it down with the tear that slipped past your defenses. “I can’t keep seeing you like that.” Your voice was a whisper and Childe took that as his queue to stop being pathetic. After all, he was the one who cursed himself to death or a fate worse than death a mere few minutes ago. A life without you. “And I can’t… literally can’t handle it. I’m not strong enough, I’m sorry. I never imagined you felt that you’d rather die than stay with me. If you felt that way you could have said something. I’m not here to hold you down and if you- if you di… die-“ your tongue went rigid. Hiccups and small gasps of fear erupted mortifyingly from your throat. You couldn’t finish your sentence fast enough before your lover yanked you into his embrace and curled his muscle-corded arms around you.

“My god I didn’t mean that. A life without you is worse than death. A life without you is stripped of meaning. Is bland and colorless. I can’t do…” he smooshed your face into his warm chest and you muffled a sob into his chest. “Cant do without you.” He rested his cheek on your head and rubbed it snuggly into you. “Love you so much. Cant leave me okay? Okay?” He chanted with a voice so genuinely dripping with honey that you quite literally melted into his arms. Your body went limp in his hold apart from your hands gripping the back of his black t-shirt. “You’re not leaving me. You can’t.” He smiled to himself, eyes red and trained on your smaller figure smooshed like slime to his. You only hummed in response. And if that meant you would die before leaving him; and if it meant he would kill anyone before letting you leave him, you didn’t care.

“Okay.”

Dainsleif

If Dainsleif had gone insane, he wasn’t sure. But waiting for a few hours at your shared house had never felt so long. Nothing had felt so long. The blonde could brandish his achievement of living for centuries at any moment. And it was clear in his appearance, his intelligence, experience and demeanor that he’d had already seen more than he could handle. He’d experienced wars, heartbreak, torture, decades in complete solitude with no one to care for nor anyone to care for him. When you came along and lit a small wisp of a flame in his heart, it made all the difference. He found himself quickly addicted to your smile and the way your heart beated for him and him alone. You made as much clear. This warm love for you was not exempt from becoming a problem, however. Though Dainsleif would never admit it, he loved you sincerely, cripplingly and cruelly. Dainsleif found himself searching for you at his lowest, with you at his highest and when without you, paralyzed. You'd forced your nimble fingers into the cracks of his shielded heart and wedged it open, finding a way to corrupt his steeled mind to depend solely on you and your affection in order to survive. He knew then, when you'd left him in your house alone that you'd succeeded. The moment you shut the door and whispered his greatest nightmare to his face, the blonde couldn't breathe. He stumbled over himself when his legs instinctively took action to catch up to you but it was almost immediately that he failed. His boot caught on his heel and Dainsleif almost went tumbling to the wood floor.

Should he follow you? Should he wait here? Should he call you, knowing there was no chance you wanted to hear from him? He was lost when it came to you. You were the only one who could ever rule him completely disoriented. It took him a long while to realize he had been taking himself in laps around the living room. His mind raced faster than his heart. Where were you? Were you okay? What if you’d been kidnapped or mugged or assaulted or raped? He felt his blood run colder than the endless snowstorms that ruled Snezhnaya at the prospect of not being sure whether or not someone had their rancid hands on you.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Any sailer would have been proud of the string of prays and curses Dainsleif muttered every few seconds. As long as you returned, he told himself. As long as you came back to him unharmed and alive, everything would be okay. That obsession he had with you had, somewhere along the way, had given Dainsleif the irresistible urge to brutally disembowel and skin alive any person who spoke to you for too long. Anyone who smiled just a little too much beside you. If he said he hadn’t hunted down at least one or two people for crossing a line with you, he’d be lying. Now, however, the only solution to his guilt ridden mind was to have you chew him out.

You, nevertheless, were too plagued at the brain with thoughts of insecurity and doubt to even think of returning home to your worried lover. Your mind drifted to his scrunched face, angry tone, and the phrase that lived only in your nightmares until that day. The nightmares you would wake from in a cold sweat, yearning for his reassurance and affections. Hoping so dearly with everything within you that you would never screw up bad enough to receive such a world ending look directed at you. Dainsleif was usually hyper aware of your doubtful mind. Sensing the moments when your insecurities surfaced in the slight stilling of your dulled eyes or the way your fingers twitched. Tonight, you realized quite vividly he hadn’t noticed a single one of those signs.

Instead, the worried man was questioning whether you were alive. Or if, instead, you’d been stolen off the streets at the ungodly hour it was. Maybe you’d been hurt. Or raped. Or murdered. What scared Dain the most, above anything in the universe that could possibly frighten him, was the unknown. More especially when it came to you. Not knowing where you were, if you were healthy or okay. Not knowing what to do in order to soothe his heart pounding through the gaps in his rib cage and attacking his chest. While his impenetrable immortality was a benefit when it came to protecting you, if you were not there to be protected, Dainsleif was the most powerless man on the planet. And he couldn’t stand the feeling of knowing that if you were screaming for his help to save you at that very moment, he wouldn’t know until later that night when the police arrived at his door with news that you’d been stolen from him for good this time. And that moment would crush him under the weight of every syllable. And his world would legitimately collapse within an instant. And his sanity would shatter like a cheap wine glass in front of his very eyes. And his life and his purpose would crumble away.

If you should have returned home, you didn’t know. What was clear to you was that you were ready to make up with him. Whether he wanted you there or not, you were unsure of as well. But you were prepared to pack your bags if he asked it of you. If what he said was true, in that extreme moment of anger, then it would be better to remain there, at the beach you walked down as you released every milliliter of terminal heartbreak in the form of every tear your eyes could manage. Avoiding the thought of him was impossible; as you’d found a long, long while ago, without being dead. Dainsleif occupied and owned every fiber of the pathetic excuse for a brain you called your own. Any waking moment was lived entirely in hopes that maybe he would praise you, give you a kiss or lend you some of his precious time. And now that your world had crumbled before you, you weren’t sure of how to react. Sure, there had been nights were your dreams turned to nightmares in which Dainsleif would leave you, abandon you or incidents like these would occur. But similar to dying in a nightmare, you’d woken up before they progressed and were left to dread every idea of an outcome. Now that those vile words had actually been directed towards you, all that preparation to feel indifferent about heartbreak over the years went out of the window. As you sat silently and pathetically alone by the water, you sobbed with fear. Fear that you weren’t sure of how to react. How to move on. How to respond to his humiliating confession. How was it possible to move past this? You’d wanted to believe so desperately that you were dreaming still, your brain finally able to fabricate some form of a story to break your heart again. Alas, you heard your lover speak it with his own lips. And ignoring the invisible fist gripping your heart painfully, you stood with shaky legs and a trembling lip. You knew what was to come.

Now, whatever you may have thought was to come, definitely had not looked anything like that. Arriving home to find your calm, collected boyfriend ripping his hair out. Like literally he ran in laps around the room, hands gripping the light of his locks and letting an unnatural amount of hair fall to the floor. You cringed at the awful state of your home. Had the house been ransacked in that short period of time you’d been gone? And was Dainsleif so disoriented that he would let an intruder tear your home apart to such a degree? Why was there a knife lodged into the flat screen tv that took you three months to save up for? With part of the carpet torn up from the floor and the biggest knife of them all gripped tightly in your lovers hand. Of course, that wasn’t the least of it. Plenty of other sharp objects had been stuck into various spots around the room, a plate or two shattered on the kitchen floor and your dining table quite literally knocked over.

You were surprised at the level of shock Dain must have been experiencing considering the fact that he didn’t so much as notice your return to the house for a few minutes. You stared in awe at the prospect of your sweet lover making a mess of the place. He’d never been one for a mess, for trouble and certainly not for any kind of chaos. Being as calm and collected as he was, it was out of character when Dainsleif whipped his head to you with wide, red eyes when your keys fell with a tension shattering clatter. It was like he’d seen a ghost with his hollowed irises. Had he truly been jumped in your absence? If he had, it wasn’t like your immortal lover was incapable of defending himself. He was more than adept at subduing any threat that crossed his path.

“Dainsleif what happened in here?” You asked in genuine concern. He could only open and close his mouth in shock, likely not having had expected you to return. And most definitely not having a word to say in response. In all honesty he, too, did not know how the apartment managed to reach such a state. More than likely, the disheveled rooms were a reflection as well as a result of the delusions he’d fabricated in the confines of his own mind. It showed in the trembling of his fingers that were gripping another knife he planned on throwing into some other expensive piece of furniture.

“You… here… why-when did you-why did you come here?” You hardly had to ponder the answer to his question. You knitted your brows together, confused beyond belief.

“What do you mean why, Dain? I live here. With you. Remember?” You scoffed, trying to imagine a reason behind his clear outburst.

“You haven’t… chosen to leave?” The five words he’d spoken out of fear in that moment told you everything you needed to know. He was afraid. He’d expressed his grief and crippling fear in the destruction of countless items in your home together. Finally— and likely for the first time that night— Dainsleif looked around him at the chaos that had ensued. It would take a burglar effort to cause as much damage in a number of hours that Dainsleif had in only one. It astounded him what he was capable of when he didn’t put his mind to it. Truthfully, he’d felt so many negative emotions for the first time that night that the memory of destroying the house was but a fleeting concern. Now with you having returned when he could have promised that you were to leave him, Dainsleif teared up.

“No! Why would I leave you, Dainsleif that is ridiculous! Did you do this shit!? What are you, five!?” It’s clear in your tone of voice that you’re not happy with him, but Dainsleif could not care less about how angry you would be with him. Even if he hugged your leg with sweaty skin and teary cheeks, at least you would interact with him. Thankfully he opted to refrain from touching you. You looked angry. Confused or overwhelmed. He couldn’t tell which. You looked so troubled that despite his desperation for you touch, he wouldn’t risk losing you.

“Are you upset with me?” He whispered, straining his wilting muscles to stand up. You weren’t mad. Not with the looks he gave you. Not with how much he loved you so preciously. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said. Dainsleif wasn’t the type and never had been. You weren’t stupid; well aware of the fact (especially with the disorder in your home as a consequence to your absence for a mere hour or two) that he had regretted what he said. The look in his eyes when your eyebrows furrowed at his question reassured you of it.

“Dainsleif I’m not mad. I just wouldn’t have taken you as the type to trash the house in a hissy fit in a matter of, what, an hour?” His face scrunched with what looked to be discomfort.

“No! Please don’t do that. Be upset with me. Hit me.” Was he angry?? Surely not. He stepped closer to you and gripped your wrist. Thrusting your hesitant hand against his chest and repeatedly slamming it against himself, he looked as though he would cry. “Yell at me.”Watching your lover as he lifted your hand once more and hit it harshly against his face broke your heart. Thud after thud, he was unrelenting. “Hit me and label me with terrible names. Hate me.” You began to bawl. Maybe your arm pulled back in protest but Dain had always been stronger. Smarter. More experienced. You couldn’t overpower him or his insatiable desire to feel you release your anger onto him. You tried. And with all your might to stop him from forcing your hand against his skin. To stop even yourself from leaving such red marks against his skin. “I’m sorry.” Now he slowed. Suddenly he loosened his grip on your hand; it hardly mattered. Your guilt ate you alive. You made him feel this way. If you’d had no heart to be upset with him for what he’d said, now you certainly had no right. You weren’t even strong enough to tell your lover to stop hurting himself. It hardly mattered whether he would retain the damage or not. Never would you lay a hand on the man you loved. Dainsleif, however, could say the same thing when it came to how tears spilled down your cheeks. He’d been the cause despite his endless promises to protect you.

“Don’t make me do that to you.” Your wrists fell from his hands. “I could never do that-“ your sniffles must have ripped courage from Dainsleif. He’d found the strength to wrap his arms around your smaller frame and crush you against him. “I could never hate you. I don’t ever want to hurt you.” Burying your face into his warm chest, you kept a mental note to speak with him. I’m the moment, your priority would be to hold him in your arms and drill the fact that he was long past forgiveness into his heart.

___

Thanks for reading

Sorry for the delay, it will be a normal occurance

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pariahsparadise · 1 year

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animal | s. h.

nav. | m.list

summary: steve proves to you that he can be rough in bed.

wc: 1.4k

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

warnings: smut, p in v unprotected sex (please use protection guys), swearing, shitty writing, unedited as usual

a/n: HEAVILY inspired by that one scene in friends. i have been obsessing over this for the last week, and it's probably better in my head than it is in writing. but i thought i'd share anyways.

Sometimes, it felt like the universe hated you. It was probably the only reasonable explanation for why you and Steve had to run into your ex on date night. The reason why your ex had to make some comment that left Steve feeling insecure, and ended up cutting your date in half to go home. The reason why you were currently in Steve’s room, trying your best to reassure his anxieties about your relationship.

“No, trust me Steve, you are so much better for me than Chris was!” you protest truthfully, although your next words go unchecked, “I mean, with Chris, it was always just this meaningless, animal sex.”

Steve stills abruptly, a shocked gasp escaping him. You slap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide and horrified at what just escaped it, before you hurry to reason with Steve.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like-”

“Oh, I think I know exactly how you meant it. Jesus Christ,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“No, Steve, I said that it was meaningless-”

“Animal sex, yes, I heard you the first time, thanks.” He cuts you off, agitated. “W-what does that mean, does our sex not have animal in it? At all? Not- not even a little bit?”

“No, Steve,” you repeat, a little more forcefully this time as you cup his face, making him look you in the eye, “You’re not listening. I’m not going to lie to you, because yes, sex with Chris was rough-” Your boyfriend scoffs, pulling away from you, but you drag him back by the collar of his shirt, “-it was rough, but what I have with you is so much better. We- we have the softness, the love, the intimacy between us. I always feel cared for when I’m with you, Steve. I swear, Steve, honey, you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“Until now.”

“What?”

Before you can get any more words out, you’re shoved backwards onto the bed. Steve follows you a second later, crashing his lips onto yours. Your breath catches in surprise, the abruptness and urgency in his motions making your head spin. He takes control of the kiss instantly, hands skimming over your ribs and waist. He inclines his head to deepen the kiss, tongue slipping past your defences before you have time to react. You squeak at the intensity but melt into it quickly, heart stuttering as Steve tugs at the bottom of your shirt. He wrenches the fabric in his hands, pulling it off you expertly, before it’s tossed to the floor and forgotten.

Steve makes even quicker work of your bra, his right hand trailing to your back to snap the strap clean through. Your breath hitches in your throat as you pull back, eyes disbelieving as he peels your ruined bra off your figure.

“That was one of my favourites,” you tell him half-heartedly, watching him throw it over his shoulder, unfazed. Steve doesn’t bother responding, electing to use his mouth to leave harsh nips and kisses all over your exposed collarbone and chest. He leaves a particularly hard bite on the underside of your right breast, shushing your startled cry and soothing the marked skin with his tongue.

By now, his hands have found their way under your thighs, groping at your ass as he pulls you up by the waist, moaning as you intuitively roll your hips to meet his. He’s painfully hard, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to survive much longer without feeling him inside of you.

“Steve,” you manage, surprised by the breathy quality to your voice, “I need you to fuck me. Now.”

He chokes at the direct command, but manages to recover swiftly. “Yeah, doll?” he asks as he rids you both of your remaining clothes, “You think you deserve it?”

“Please,” you gasp, hands sprawling around you to grab onto something, anything, to anchor yourself as Steve fully slides into you. Ever the gentleman, he waits for you to adjust to his size before he starts moving, setting a brutal pace that propels the entire bed backwards into the wall, banging against it repeatedly, in sync with the sound of skin slapping skin. Fucking you harder than you ever dreamed he could.

“Oh, my God,” you cry out as he straightens up, managing to find the correct angle to hit the spot, pistoning in and out of you mercilessly. You hadn’t lied earlier, sex with Steve has always been good, he’s consistently attentive to all your reactions and practically devoted to your pleasure, careful to never hurt you. But this is a side of him you’ve never seen, a sheen of sweat coating his body, the hair on his chest glorious, his eyes transfixed on where his cock plunges in and out of your drenched cunt. You know that this must paint the sexiest picture. You, on your back, clawing sporadically at the bedsheets under you, your thighs held apart by Steve’s hands, who fucks you like a god.

He’s rough to the point of making you scream, making you writhe helplessly against him, unable to do anything but take what he gives you. It’s wild and passionate, and though you had suspected earlier, you now know that he’s ruined all other men for you.

Your orgasm approaches rapidly, driving you feral, hands clenching into Steve’s forearms for support, leaving scratches you just know he’ll tease you about tomorrow. Steve watches your eyes flutter, feels your cunt clench around him, and offers a silent apology for what he’s about to do.

He pulls out, snatching your release away from you cruelly. Various cries and curses pour from your mouth as you claw at Steve’s arms weakly, frustrated.

“You didn’t think it’d be that easy, did you?” he asks you, mirth lacing his words, and you hate how he manages to sound so casual, so unaffected. Fuck him, he’s not even out of breath.

“Steve- please just-” your voice dies away, unable to say any more, and Steve flips you over by your hips.

“No,” he says, voice lower and more stern than you’ve ever heard it, and you shudder. “It’s going to take a while to get you completely fucked out, but believe me, we’re not going to stop until you are.”

His hand reaches for one of the pillows at the head of the bed, and he lifts your hips to prop it carefully under your waist. He presses the small of your back down meaningfully, and you comply to his silent request, arching. You feel the hot press of his cock against your folds as he adjusts against you and shiver, dying for what’s about to come.

Spoiler, it’s you. Around six times through the night, in various positions and on various parts of Steve’s body. When you’re completely and utterly exhausted, throat scratchy from all the screams he pulled out of you, Steve finally takes pity on you, carrying you bridal style into the bathroom, before changing his mind and deciding to bend you over the sink.

After you finally make it into the shower, where Steve had to prop you up to stop you from falling over, and get cleaned, you’re too tired to do anything but sleep. Steve carries you back to his bed and massages your shaking legs, kisses the harsh marks he left tenderly, and strokes your hair, making sure you manage to get some rest in whatever is left of the night. Always, always the gentleman.

“Steve!” you shriek from inside the bathroom, and your boyfriend runs in, looking alarmed. He looks at you with worry, but it fades into a smile as he sees you pointing at the marks he’s left all over your neck, collarbones, and even your breasts.

“No, stop grinning like that,” you tell him seriously, gesturing wildly at the various hues of red and purple that now make up your upper body, “I have work today! What the fuck do I do about this?”

“Wear a low-necked shirt?” he suggests, half serious, chortling a laugh as you try to punch his chest.

“Fuck off, Steve, what am I supposed to do? I look- I look like I was mauled by an animal!”

“Oh, weren’t you?”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you smut #steve harrington #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fluff

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ang3lofdivinity · 1 month

Text

༘⋆𓍢ִ໋🌷 𝙵𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Relationship(s): Charlie Morningstar + Vaggie (romantic), kinda Yan!Alastor + Fallen Angel!Marionette!(implied)fem!Reader (platonic or romantic, whatever you want), slight Husk + Angel dust

Genre: Fluff :))

Warnings/notes: Spoilers(?) For Hazbin hotel, reader is able to make plants and stuff, reader is decently human and fought in war, they fell from heaven too, Emily sees the reader as a “mother” figure, death mentions, Alastor being alastor, Angel being himself as always, Alastor has been made.. somewhat yandere, Drugs and other hell stuff mentioned, ooc? Suggestive content (mostly from Angel), Cannibalism, toxic dependency, SWEARINGGGG

Format: Long/Short stories + Headcanons

A/N: GOD. SCHOOL SUCKKSKSKSKSKKSKS. Sorry i’ve been gone for a bit again- sickness is very much not fun. Anyways, here’s an late Valentines present for you all featuring our favorite deer demon! :)) - Also, you can just see Niffty and Charlie calling you a female (if you aren’t) an accident on their perception— HUGGEEEE inspo taken for an idea/convo in this from @/princekeerys :))

Reminder: YOU are responsible for your content consumption!

There’s a reason why you’re here now.

Everyone is.

Perhaps heaven made a mistake when they first allowed you to enter heaven after your death, allowed you to live amongst angels and other pure beings whom had never done a single horrible act in their lives- or well, since their creation.

The morals that they purveyed were so.. impeccable, granular too.

Everything here was having a pernicious effect on you, these individuals were so much better than you. They didn’t take the life away from others without a second thought. They didn’t grow up to become a weapon. They didn’t feel wrong for the things they did in their lives or just in the past-

They weren’t like you. A monster.

It’s basically an antithesis. Between you, and the ‘winners’.

But you tried your best to fit in. And it worked.. for the most part..

You decided to pick up working as a gardener and freelance artist, which was.. quite fun. You felt genuinely happy after so long where you have been deprived of it, not allowed it, and not given it before. You actually managed to make it to a high ranking position, The Head Archangel.

“(____)?” A feminine voice speaks up from behind you, it’s gentle- dulcet. It’s like they’re afraid to speak up in the slightest. You pause, removing yourself from your memories. That’s right— you’re painting. You place down your brush into the cup filled with paint water as you shift around on your stool, looking at the woman.

Catherine Stockholms, that’s her name. She’s a young 18-year-old girl who died in the 1940’s due to a train going on the wrong track and crashing into the one she was riding that fateful day. Her light blonde hair, cut short and curly in the back, frames her face with the side parts gracefully reaching just at her shoulders, slightly longer than the back. Her hair is adorned with a dark purple headband featuring a bow. She has pale yellow eyes which are nervously looking around, hugging herself.

She wears a white collared shirt with sleeves that extend slightly above her chest, ending in a square-like shape near the shoulders and neck. Layered over the shirt is a charming dark purple dress that falls to her knees, boasting puffy sleeves and a skirt that puffs out, followed with a nonchalantly worn black coat from her era with some intricate details of flowers vines on it. Her attire is completed with white socks adorned with lace and simple black mary janes.

“Good evening, Catherine.” You say with all of the warmth you can, smiling as you tilt your head to the side.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Tone quizzical as you ask your question, causing Catherine to tense.

She stayed silent for a good few seconds before she answered your question.

“..(____)” She started as her eyes nervously darted around the room.

“You’re being taken to.. the Angelic Court.”

Eyes widened, your mouth went agape as your breath hitched. No.. no way. What have you done?..

“May.. I ask why?..” you mutter your words, almost slurring them as you try to hold back the other words and tears threatening to spill out. You don’t think you’ve done anything wrong… unless… perhaps they figured out their judgment was incorrect—

“They haven’t told me but- they want you to arrive in an hour from now. Today.” Catherine fiddled with a piece of her hair, face painted with worry.

“..I see. Alright. Thank you for letting me know.”

Catherine simply nodded before heading off, leaving you all alone with your thoughts as they raced. Causing you to slowly stand up and start pacing around, hugging yourself. No. Nonononono, please don’t do this now. Not now.

Why does this have to happen now? But hey, at least they could correct their judgment. You would no longer be in a place where you did not deserve to be in from the start ever since you died so many years ago.

Your eyes drifted off to your violin, custom made just for you. Flowers all over, intricate details engraved into the instrument as you stride on over to it within the corner of the room, picking it up. A shaky escaped your lips as you tried your best to keep a cool-head, fingers coiled around the fretted neck of the instrument while the other went to circular body’s strings.

Not playing anything as you simply just tried to remember the good moments as you played it, the times where you made flora flourish and beauteous. Dying plants now brought back to life due to your abilities, that made you feel like something- it gave you a purpose. Something you needed to live.

..God, you hope this is all a fever dream.

You’ve heard how Hell is dirty, filled with disgusting freaks who didn’t deserve the true salvation of Heaven.

But perhaps you should be down there, after all, you killed so many..

Yes… you deserve to be burning with all of those same sinners.

. . .

“(____).” Sera loudly speaks, her voice firm as she looks down upon you. You’re in the supreme courtroom of Heaven and the operating place of the Heavenly Court. The courthouse is quiet, however there are the occasional whispers between the angels as they look down at you in shame, anger, or sympathy.

You try to control your tears as you dip your head down low, gripping your upper-arm as you dig your nails into the flesh of your skin.

“Yes, Madame?” You pathetically utter out as you tried to relax yourself with the thought of you being able to stay here. But either way, it would still be a harsh situation..

Doubt gnaws at your soul, questioning whether you truly belong among the pure and righteous. The fear of being exposed as a true sinner, unworthy of such divine tranquility, consumes your thoughts.

Yet, as you contemplate the alternative, the prospect of hell sends shivers down your spine. The thought of being surrounded by vile beings, perverse and wicked, fills you with revulsion. The idea of enduring torment alongside the depraved and despicable is a horrifying prospect.

“We have found that you are…” The Seraphim pauses for a moment before she continues.

And you almost fall to your knees.

“Guilty, of the sin of Pride.”

"I understand, Madame," you spoke softly as your heart weighed heavy as you watched the angelic court dismiss and the whispers among the decision grew. Guards surrounded you, all with perfect posture as they motioned for you to follow them as hands were put in cuffs.

You simply nodded and you were escorted towards the pearly gates. Your gaze was avoiding everyones as you bit your bottom lip, trying to suppress everything you felt in the moment like you had for years. You’ll remember the feeling of the soft clouds beneath your feet as you walked through these gates the first time, truly a beautiful feeling.

Emily, the second seraphim, slowly walked over to you with her head lowered. She stood there for a moment as she stared at you while the guards stopped in their tracks, waiting for Emily to say or do something. She was the first person you looked at directly, and just looking at your despair-ridden face.. She just collapsed into your arms, emotion crashing over her as she couldn’t even utter anything besides sobs.

"There is no need to cry, dear. It'll be alright," you comforted the best you could, a smile plastering itself on your lips as you awkwardly managed to slightly hug her back. Emily took a deep breath, hiccuping as she handed over your violin.

"I love you.." Emily mumbled through tears. With nods of farewell from the angels, you were whisked away once more, now standing tall at the heavenly gates.

"Goodbye, dearest friend," Sera's voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes.

"I will miss you too, Madame," You replied with a nod, before you stood near the edge of the giant fluffy cloud that held you up, along with the entire of Heaven. Near the edge, handcuffs forcing your hands to remain behind you just in case before you fell backwards.

You plummet down, it is that of beauty intertwined with tragedy. It looks like a falling star. The descent feels inevitable, as if you're being drawn inexorably into a hellish abyss. Doubt creeps in: do you truly deserve this fate? But nevertheless, you are destined to crash into the unknown location below, a city.

..city?

Yes, Pentagram City.

The sky is overcome with a red sky- dark to light, a sun far too bright, no wait. That’s where the angels come down here for the extermination. The city is separated into different sections, as far as you can tell, 7 of them. 7 deadly sins.

You wonder if Lucifer is still here. Alive.

Well… he has to be!

Nevertheless, as you crash with a loud smash of nearby items and such, you can’t find the energy to get up. Your once purely white wings, fluffy and all now covered in dirt along with whatever feculent things from beneath you and with a slight ash gray hue. It feels like you’ve broken something in your body, or maybe multiple things as your once glowing halo that hovers above your head lowers- slightly cracking.

Who knew it could do that.

Taking a guess, you’re probably in the pride ring. What did you even do that was so prideful?…

Although struggling a bit, you manage to lift your head up and survey around.

These.. demons have their businesses in these places, where it seems like they’re allowed to sell everything from cigarettes to drugs. How unholy…

There is a Clock Tower located in the city that seems to be glimmering with a gold shine, which serves as a counter for the 365 days that pass until the Exorcists return for the next Extermination. Yes, you know about the extermination, you once heard Lieutenant Lute speaking of it before to Adam.

Are you to be killed like the rest of these filthy creatures? Criminals, drug dealers?

You don’t wanna get up. Scratch that, you can’t. Your body won’t allow you to do anything besides breathe. This hurts, it hurts so bad, why does this have to happen to you—

Writhing around for a moment, you manage to utter out some words to yourself;

“Am I.. really allowed to live?”

“Just keep living.”

“But am I allowed? Why.. why must this happen to me, they should’ve just sent me here in the first place.”

“(____), stop. Please. Live, even after all of these horrible acts.”

“But-“

“No. No, I will not have any refutes here, (____). Live, for all of us.”

“..Yes, sir.”

You stumble upwards on your feet, managing with a motion of your hand to put your violin in the safe inter-dimensional pocket dimension, just for you to place all of your items into it, safely. The feeling of your wings heavy behind you as you come to find you’re in a hidden alleyway, filled with cigarettes, condoms— filthy sinners.

Fighting the urge to cry, you intake a sharp breath. An angel would not cry over this. But it doesn’t really work.

But you’re alone, you have no idea about anything in this place of what it’s like, how the people are, you can only imagine all the terrible things they’ve done to be punished and sent down here of all places. Hell is just the definition of unholy, it’s the exact opposite of heaven. The only thing going through your head is to cry, scream, try to get heaven to take you back and get out of this horrible place.

But then again, don’t you deserve this?

You don’t know anymore.

It’s all hurting your head.

It hurts to think about, and the tears which have now started slowly pouring down your cheeks sting.

It didn’t work.

This is pathetic.

Your body reacts before you can do anything else, running in some random direction. You can just feel the millions of eyes staring you down like predators carefully marking down their prey, burning through you. It doesn’t feel safe here, it’s hell after all.

The trial had to have been all a lie, fabricated with evidence that was made up. You haven’t done anything prideful, nor lustful, not even envious or any of those other sins that ended mortal souls or other angels whom were truly guilty of the crime. But you— no, you weren’t them. You aren’t guilty.

Someone must’ve made something up!

That trial was unfair, arbitrary, unjustifiable.

Tears spill as you’re too busy with your thoughts and your legs almost fail on you a few times due to it, well, it does happen when you just can’t do it anymore. Hugging yourself pathetically as you fail to notice how luminescent, thin yet strong strings are tightly wrapped around your ankles, neck, hips, and arms. Yes, hell uses some of the worst things you feared or hated in life, and it’s using the idea of a marionette for you. These strings really won’t do much, but they’re not entirely safe. They just make things.. difficult.

That’s unfortunate..

Just another soon to be hindrance.

“…..’lo??”

Someone’s speaking, but the ringing drumming through your ears is so loud, it’s hard to hear them—

“Hello?..” A feminine voice tries to capture your attention, even going as far as to snap her fingers in front of your face. Your head immediately raises to stare up at her, as she looks panicked.

“Sorry- so sorry! You just..” She stuttered out an apology, but you weakly waved your hand.

“..No worries. It’s okay.” The woman in front of you looks relieved as a sigh escapes past her lips.

The woman is very tall, and slender. She has pale white skin, her cheeks a rosy red that compliment her red eyes. She has long, blonde hair, mixed with a lighter blonde and even pink highlights, which is tied into a twice-banded low ponytail. Her blonde bangs flip to her left with a curl.

She has an untucked white, long-sleeved dress-shirt with a simple black bowtie. Over this she adorns a fitted red tuxedo jacket with pointed sleeves, dark-red lapels and a pair of red fitted dress pants. She wears black and white saddle shoes, which remind you of an older time in human history.

“I apologize- again,” she awkwardly laughs with a somewhat goofy smile on her face before leaning forward and holding out one of her hands to you, which shocks you. Aren’t demons in Hell supposed to be.. well, hellish?

“I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar!” As she introduces herself, you take her hand albeit hesitantly, lithe fingers wrap around your hand and she pulls you up. Her touch is gentle, although it feels like her nails are going to scrap you- they don’t. She seems.. too nice as of currently for her to hurt someone she just met.

“..Previous head Archangel, (____). It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Morningstar.” You know that last name. At least it feels like you do. As she lets go of you, you curtsy as Charlie’s cheeks heat up a bit while waving her hand dismissively at your actions.

“Same here! Um… would you mind telling me why you’re down here?..” Her tone is fearful almost as she inquires about your predicament.

“..Some fabricated trial where they found me guilty. But— I….” You halt, taking a deep breath and shaking your head.

“It’s nothing to be worried about.”

She understands before continuing to speak.

“Would you like to try and.. get back into heaven?” The blonde’s question intrigues you as you raise an eyebrow.

“I… that would be nice.” You reply almost monotonously as you lower your head, but the woman places her hands on your shoulders, causing you to tense a bit. But she doesn’t seem.. threatening, not in the way you imagined at least. So you loosen up a bit.

“Well, I think I have the solution for you, Head Archangel!”

“That would be?”

“Coming to my Hazbin Hotel to get redeemed!”

. . .

The idea was ludicrous- or well, close to that. But when you first arrived here, you weren’t expecting any of this to happen. You don’t regret coming here— too much, that is.

The hotel is tall, elaborate amalgamation of arched windows and turrets, one of which seems to be broken. It appears to be at least seven stories tall, with at least five of which being guest floors. An ocean liner, a sailing ship and a carousel litter both sides and appear to have been incorporated into the structure of the building itself; there is also a train with some tracks looping the first and second floor exterior. Located on the top right of the building is a small radio broadcasting room, used as the work area for… someone Charlie referred to as ‘Al’.

Many signs are displayed outside the hotel: One atop the entrance reminiscent of the Hazbin Hotel logo, a large pink one atop the building with the hotel's name in lights, a neon 'HOTEL' sign at the bottom right and atop the building where Al’s broadcast room is located, a small 'On-Air' sign is visible. Also located on the outer facade are various arrows pointing to the entrance and the broadcast room.

The entrance has a tented cover with a booth in the center reminiscent of a circus or theater ticket booth. In a sense, at least!

The interior however— theres wooden boards covering shattered windows, signs warning of asbestos, bloodied tools left lying around, and paintings are shown hanging off the walls. Much of the furniture in the lobby are strewn around haphazardly or remain boxed up in several large wooden crates.

The bar, why is there a bar in a place meant to discourage sin? You have no clue, uses skeletons, snakes, and bones as general themes, along with card suits and candles, and advertises itself as a casino. The area the bar in has glowing green wooden walls instead of the usual red wallpaper, given that it’s been sorta… merged with the lobby of the hotel.

Despite the shabby and poor condition of the hotel, the overall theme of the building remains ornate and regal, with stained glass windows, (semi?) lavish furniture, and generous usage of gold. Like the rest of Hell that you’ve seen so far, the hotel has a largely red color scheme.

Along with like.. almost every person here and around the place.

“Charlie?” A more deep, feminine voice calls out. You snap your head in the direction of- …Vagatha?

The silver haired woman appears to notice and remember you as well, due to her expression changing immediately.

Holy.

“Honey- please don’t attack her!!“ Charlie stammers, moving in front of you. But you gently push her aside and walk towards her.

“..Agatha?” She bites her bottom lip, giving you a look saying: l‘please.’ You know what she means by that.

“I haven’t seen you since.. well, life.” You almost trip over your words, given that you haven’t lied in about a few years or so. Despite that, she looks relieved. She gives you a small nod before looking at Charlie’s surprised expression.

“Right.”

“How.. OHHHH! Wait- you guys know each other from Earth!?” The Blonde exclaimed in absolute delight, cupping her cheeks. Vaggie quickly nodded in response, giving you a look of appreciation before walking over to Charlie who held her captive in a bear hug, babbling on about how she was so happy for the two of you.

You stared at them for a moment before bursting out into a fit of giggles. Vaggie pouted, but she really did love it. Even if it didn’t show.

You’re glad she found someone who made her happy. Even if it’s the daughter of Lucifer.

Wiping away the tears of delight from your eyes, you sigh contentedly before you started to survey around the hotel more while the two lovebird’s were being all adorable. Two figures- a black and white cat wiping down the bar, and a tall spider-like character were talking (mainly the spider one) as the cat seemed entirely done with everyone and everything.

Blinking repeatedly for a second, your head turns to the door of the hotel. You don’t know why, but you almost head towards it, you’re unsure why- but it almost feels like something is beckoning you to leave, to run out and leave this place.

But you can’t.

Why?

Simple: you don’t have anywhere else to go.

“ANOTHER WOMAN?” A voice shrieked out, causing you to recoil away and snap your head to the voice.

A smaller demon was looking up at you, a cyclops-like demon with pointed limbs, white skin and one large eye. Her eyes light yellow iris, hot-pink sclera with a yellow gradient were basically the size of atoms as she continued to stare. This is certainly awkward…

Her red-pink hair is kept into a slightly messy bob cut with swirls on each side, and a single light yellow streak located at the top. Her mouth has sharp light yellow teeth inside and black lips, and small hot-pink dots on each of the corners.

The bug-like woman wears a neckerchief around her neck, red-pink maid dress under a white apron with three hot-pink dripping splotches. She also wears long black gloves which covers most of her hands and arms, along with matching-colored tights.

“…Hello, Miss?” Choking out the words, you smile the best you can despite how tense you were.

“Nifty!!! It’s nice to meet you!” She squeals out, a large toothy grin on her face.

“Right well- Hello, Miss Nifty.” You bobbed a curtsy to the small woman who seems far too excited to be here.

“Y’know, I was kinda wishin’ you’d be a bad boy, but whatever! Anyways- this place is filthyyy so, I gotta kill more bugs to make sure they know not to come here anymore!” Niffty bounces up and down elatedly,

“Pardon?-“

“Okay, BYEEE!!” And with that, she was running off in the opposite direction.

Your breath hitches, and your body tensed. Is.. everything super fast here? Everything feels too fast for your liking.

You take a moment to breathe, trying to relax your tense body. It’ll all be okay… you just, need a moment to let everything sink in.

Striding over to a chair, you sat down and leaned your head back, making you stare at the ceiling. A sigh slips past your lips as you rest your hands in your lap. Surprisingly, the couch is.. much more softer and comfortable than you had imagined before.

“Why, another patron?” How many people are going to approach you today?

You tense, turning to the voice speaking- it sounds like that of an old radio…

A slender, darker brownish beige-skinned demon with a dapper appearance stands before you, a slightly messy, red-pink bob-styled hair with black tips and a pair of rather large, black-ended fur-tufts on top of his head which evokes the ears of a deer. On the back of his head is a brown undercut, while small black antlers protrude from the crown of his head.

Kinda cute… you admit.

The man wears a high-collared, fitted red pinstripe coat with darker-colored sleeves, strawberry-red cuffs, white-trimming on darker-red lapels, and the bottom hem being ragged. Under his coat is that of a strawberry-red dress-shirt with a black cross on the chest, and an accessorized black knotted bow tie with a strawberry-red center on the top front.

He has black gloves- are those his hands???… probably not. You hope.

Nevertheless, they have strawberry-red fingertips, black dress pants with cuffs the same color as he coat, and black heeled ankle boots with strawberry-red pointed toes, with his hands behind his back he’s holding a thin cane with a vintage styled microphone attached to it.

“..Good evening, Sir.” You say, voice drained even when you try to keep the politeness you still have left. A drowsy smile plastered its way on your face, attempting to straighten your posture. The man seems amused by your words and current situation as his smile gets ever so wider.

“Manners? My, what a rare thing to come across in Hell, mm?” He quips as he motions for you to stand up. You tilt your head in confusion as you leisurely rise up from your spot to stand up from the couch, and he approaches a bit closer before dipping down, grabbing your wrist while dipping down and kissing the back of your palm.

…

You don’t think you’ve ever blushed that much before.

A man has never done this to you before, when did this ever happen in time???? Does he just- do this whenever he meets someone new??? Why in heavens name is this attractive and why are you finding it so?????? What is going on..

It takes you a good long minute to process what just happened as the man straightens up his posture once more, letting your hand fall to your side. You can hear him laughing a bit at your flustered expression, making the blush become more apparent and darker in color.

“Now who are you, my dear?” The way he emphasized ‘my’ in his sentence was.. odd, but nevertheless: you didn’t comment on it.

“(____). It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” You curtesy at the man in respect despite your flustered state.

His smile grew wider in amusement and satisfaction- in a way— this is certainly something.

“And, you are, sir?”

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, my dear, quite a pleasure!”

. . .

Well.. this place has started growing on you.

And the people too.

Charlie by far has been the friendliest to you, trying to get you comfortable over the few months you’ve arrived here. She hasn’t forced you to do anything, only given suggestions and her ideas, asking for your opinions, etc.

But you’ve taken the role of a musician for the hotel!

She could not be more overjoyed.

Vaggie and you don’t speak too much.. but have a friendly relationship. Any chance you got, you would also ask for her opinions on the music you’ve been working on, if it sounded good enough because.. Charlie would just be a bit vague in her rating, but Vaggie could be much more blunt and straightforward.

You’re thankful for that, musically that is.

Even if it might hurt your feelings sometimes, it’s better to know your mistakes.

Husk hasn’t interacted with you much, but has decided to give you a record for you to possibly use as a reference for a song, or even play it! That.. honestly gives you a bit of a confidence boost, given that he really doesn’t reveal much of his past to anyone.

But he trusts you enough to at least give you one of his favorite records!

You’ll make him proud, no matter the cost.

Angel Dust has attempted to make an advance or two upon you, flirting with you like he does everyone, but you’re a bit too awkward for that and instead decide to invite him into your room to listen to you play.

Genuinely? He’s impressed. That façade of being the porn-star that he is fizzes away a bit as he simply stares at you while you play on one of your instruments.

He might just get more fond of you.

Niffty is.. okay!! You find her to be quite adorable like.. 90% of the time, despite her habits with bugs. You try to help her clean sometimes, but most times it doesn’t work. Though the times when it does, she thanks you a lot! And you even let her test out some of your instruments.

As long as she doesn’t break them, or ruin them in any way. To which she promises you she won’t, and you hold it to her.

She enjoys your company quite a lot, though!

Alastor now… he’s quite the character! He was the second person who persuaded you into letting him hear you play your music (with the first being Charlie despite how scared you were.) He even gave you some songs that were some of his favorites to play!!

All of them were jazz, but you didn’t mind. They weren’t too bad, after-all!

However his behavior now has… ringed bells in your head.

Made you frightened.

You decided to ask Vaggie what she knew of him, and eventually told you his story. How he had gained all of his power from those overlords and deals..

It made you unnerved. How could someone of a mortal soul kill so many people???

And despite being an angel, why is he so interested in you?

You, for one, don’t consider yourself to be very interesting. All besides for your species and musical abilities, you don’t see why..

But, you didn’t question it for so long and kept quiet.

He appeared to enjoy your presence more than others, even being as willing as to ask you if you want him to send some of his shadows to follow you around town when you went to do errands for Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, or just one of the members of the hotel.

Of course, you denied but thanked him for the offer. It’s not like it stopped him. It was only for your safety.

What if one of the Vees approached you?? Or Vox used his manipulation powers on you??? What if you got attacked??? He can’t let his new source of entertainment get harmed, or be taken away!

You weren’t some delicate flower.. but he definitely saw you like it.

He even offered you deals.

Ones for your soul.

Denying every-time, of course. You liked your freedom. The mere idea of a deal for your soul felt like every bit of freedom would be drained from you, everything taken away from you. They could do anything to you.. even kill you.

God forbid.

It scared you.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to own you.

Whenever he was listening to you play and you did a wonderful job (especially if it was one of his favorite songs or jazz in general), he would pat you on the head while merrily singing praises to you of how well you played!

It got to the point where Angel Dust even has made some.. inappropriate remarks about Alastor’s words to you. It makes you blush out of embarrassment every time, and you yelp back a response.

“Damn, toots, didn’t know you were baggin’ smiles over there. You two had-“

“NO. NOTHINGS HAPPENING BETWEEN US!”

“HE DOESN’T EVEN LIKE THAT STUFF…”

It’s infuriating at times. And you had to do it by yourself, as Alastor usually wasn’t around during those times when Angel Dust made his remarks.

..It’s.. whatever.

But it doesn’t help your case when Alastor offers you his hand for you to hold, or with his arm for you to link with, to walk around with you, walk you back to Hotel…

Most times you accepted! Back when he wasn’t so…

…Possessive.

It wasn’t bad, at first. You thought he was just being kind to you. He had manners- proper decorum. How could you dislike a person with manners, after-all!

You didn’t notice it.

But that possessiveness grew.

Almost like ancorruptive infection.

Now, it’s just straight up.. bone-chilling at times.

It’s like he was infatuated with you, trying to get you to do everything with him—

Most times you deny it now.

Still he was a persistent one.

And even got you to say yes.. a lot.

You don’t even know what even led to this behavior from him, why everything you seem to do he has an interest in already.

He’s even tried persuading you into getting a radio for yourself in order for you to listen to his radio shows! And honestly? The idea didn’t seem too bad, in your opinion. And.. this was before any of the bells started ringing in your head about his behavior, so there was really nothing bad about it! At least, to you. So, you headed out and found yourself a radio (although, you have to say it was certainly quite the adventure).

Alastor was especially pleased by this.

Yet, ever since you got it, you didn’t even feel safe in your own room anymore. Main cause of it being like a thousand eyes watching you when you were just simply trying to work on your music, sleep, draw— anything. The only time it went away is when you were going to dress yourself. Thank whatever saving you for that. But, even around the hotel- you could still feel the hairs rise up on your neck due to the sensation.

A part of you wanted to tell Charlie, or even Vaggie of your troubles. Hell, even Husk or Angel Dust about it. But, Charlie would.. more than likely blame herself a lot more, and you didn’t want her to worry her to the point of exhaustion since she was already doing so much. You don’t believe you’re close enough to Vaggie to even… tell her much, especially about a problem as banal and close to unbelievable as this. Husk could try and help, but probably would be too indifferent about the situation and your wellbeing as the two of you aren’t that close either. And, for Angel Dust… he probably wouldn’t help you as much as you wanted. Niffty? She was kinda out of the question because you really couldn’t see her taking you seriously, nor finding her around much.

So there was only one option, probably one of the worse ones: Alastor.

Honestly, you believed he would probably just laugh at you. But maybe he’d take you seriously. Maybe he wouldn’t.

God forbid, this is horrible.

Like the foolish idiot you were, you told Alastor about your worries one day.

“Mister??..” Your voice is a mere whisper as you gently knock on the door to his room. Knuckles softly hitting the wood, you recoiled your hand back and fidgeted with your fingers as you awaited for a response you more than likely weren’t going to receive. Well..

Before the door quickly opened, causing you to jerk backwards, stumbling over yourself. That’s certainly the fastest anyone has answered the door for you. He took a moment to stare down at you, surveying your expression, you suppose.

“Good evening, my dear!” His normal orotund voice speaks up with the radio-like effect still filtered over it. You nod in greeting, waiting to see if he continues on.

“Is there anything you need? You know, I could’ve been doing something terribly important!” He emphasizes ‘terribly important’, and the way he does it has you worrying now. Did you interrupt him?

“Oh— i’m sorry. I can leave and come back later. Or just,, not come back if you’re not available.” There’s silence that follows your response as you wait. Until there’s..

Laughter.

Hysterical laughter.

“No no! It’s a joke, my dear! I’m available. Come in.” He stepped off to the side, motioning for you to enter. And, you gave a nod of appreciation before approaching any further. So.. now you know that half of Alastor’s room is a bayou.

One that appears to always make it seem like its night. Fireflies flit around, their lights illuminating ever so slightly. The bayou is mainly cool colors, blues, and greens (for the trees mainly, which look reminiscent of weeping willow trees), and even a tint of purple to it, not including the light from the fireflies. The only thing making you uneasy is the fact that there’s a.. dead deer. Resting on a table. In the middle of the bayou area. And a fork is poking out from its chest, with a knife properly placed down on the side of it on the table. There’s even a few puddles around the grassy floor, and a larger lake in the back you can slightly see

For the rest of the room which is decently normal: an intricately designed fireplaces, being its sharp teeth designs, and golden colored swirls. A neon green light is shining from inside, slightly dimmed due to the darkness. Upon it there are skulls, and oddly shaped candelabras with lighted candles. On the walls are pictures within picture frames to which you really can’t depict, some tilted and others straight. Then, there’s the large buck antlers and what you can suspect to be its teeth hung proudly above the fireplace in a wooden frame. A long, red and golden trimmed carpet is spread out from near the door to a small desk off to the side, covering some of the wooden flooring.

The stag sits down in one of the red cushioned chairs next to the fireplace after having the door closed for privacy, and motions for you to sit by the one in front of the other. When you do find yourself comfortably sat in the chair, your eyes drift off to look at the rest of the room.

On a wooden bookshelf, he has… a lot of books, all of different sizes but with a similar, burgundy color. There’s also one of his signature radio’s on the top shelf, along with another on a lower one. An animal skeleton, and a golden statue that’s matched with intricate designs of swirls with a bottom compartment with what looks to be voodoo symbols for the handles. Not even mentioning the gator skeleton on the wall with little fairy lights you can suppose, there’s a small container for papers on his desk, a black and dark orange lamp, and a bottle of ink all neatly placed on it.

“So.. what is it you need from me, darling? Perhaps a deal?” Again with the deals..

“No. I just— .. you have to promise me you won’t laugh, even if you find it stupid.” Please, please, please, agree. You cannot deal with these thoughts and feelings anymore, god forbid.

“Mm… Is it that serious?”

“To me- yes. To others I might just seem.. delusional or paranoid.” Replying to his inquiry, he hums a noise of satisfaction.

“Alright. Go ahead then.”

With those words, everything you’ve been holding in ever since these sensations have started spilling out almost naturally. You tell him almost everything, how you’ve been feeling someone watching you, how you’re scared for yourself and the rest of the hotel staff if its soon going to happen to them, if anything bad is going happen to the hotel itself- or any of the residents. Being the bleeding heart you are, now?

The overlord quietly listened, grin never leaving his face as he felt so many things at once. It’s almost annoying to him why you’re like… this. The fuming hatred is something that cannot be fathomed by merely anyone, something so deep, it’s incomprehensible for him even. Someone who has murdered so many innocent people, someone who can never show his true emotions beyond that cursed smile that’s plastered on his face. He loathes you so much for simply everything you do. Isn’t that the reason he liked you for the things you did??..

But then there’s the other feeling.

It’s confusing.

Say, if you were to start… disliking him, ignoring him, avoiding him at all costs. He feels like he’d go insane. Like he needs your attention on him, or else he cannot function. And yes, he likes the attention from everyone on him, but if he lost yours- dear satan, he could actually be insane. Why do you think he’s offering you so much?? A twisted part wants him to own every little piece of you, everything about you, and he cannot deny that he likes that idea more than you could ever possibly imagine. Ripping away every little bit of innocence you have would just be delightful to him, it’s all making him have this awful feeling swirl within his chest. One that twists and tugs at his dead, tar colored heart.

He wants to rip it out.

He needs to. Perhaps then these vile feelings that you’re causing him will eventually.. wither away.

This is making him weak. Making him go soft.

And what will that do to his reputation?

“Well, my darling..” Alastor cleared his throat.

“If you would like, I suppose I can offer you a deal.”

“Alastor-“

“Not for your soul, this time. Just a simple deal between friends!”

To say this intrigued you would be an understatement.

Well now, you’ve made a deal with the devil!

Or, a devil.

He offered you his protection in the way of being by your side for most of the time, or having one of his shadow spies with you, in exchange for a favor from you later on, of his picking. And you were desperate, you didn’t even think first about negotiating the terms of your now first deal in Hell! With.. the Radio Demon!

And thankfully, not for your soul.

Oh freedom how you love it.

He’s thankful you still haven’t figured out who has been watching you all this time, who you were worried about.

Nevertheless- ever since you made that deal, you and Alastor were practically connected at the hip. But the rare times where you weren’t together, one of his shadow spies was with you! You have to admit it- they were adorable. You had to at least pet them a few times on the head while gawking at them. Of course, they squealed in delight due to the sudden display of affection shown by someone. Even when they at first, didn’t trust you, they definitely started to warm up to you now.

Charlie, Vaggie, nor any of the other residents have said anything about this so far- besides Angel Dust and his usual remarks.

..But then Husk spoke up one time.

Being at the bar, resting on a stool as you tried to unwind a little bit, and given it was quite lonely at the time- you decided to just.. simply relax for a moment in the company of probably one of the quietest people within the Hotel. It was the right opportunity for him.

“Kid.. a word of advice: don’t get too close to that asshole. He may seem all nice and charming, but he’s in Hell for a goddamn reason.”

Those words stick with you.

And with passing months, you think more deeply and deeply about your deal. And those little spies don’t seem so cute in a way anymore. And Alastor..

Maybe you’re overreacting.

“Okay, okay! So.. I have a great idea!!” Charlie merrily exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, bouncing up and down in delight. Her smile was wider than ever, and her girlfriend beside her was softly smiling with hands planted on her hips. Vaggie was so in love with that princess..

It was adorable!

Charlie had called a staff meeting to the living room, where everyone (Including Husk even) were resting on the couch or floor.

“I thought, if we wanted to get more in touch with the idea of rehabilitation, we might want to become more.. human! By getting in touch with certain, good aspects of human life!” The princess continued, surveying everyone’s expressions.

“So, me and Vaggie picked some holiday’s we could possibly celebrate here at the Hotel!” She motions to a writing board where the handwriting is rushed but, legible. Some ideas on the board are scribbled out, and 3 main ones are circled, followed bullet points displaying what each are about, what they would do, and how the Hotel would celebrate.

‘Halloween’ , ‘Valentines Day’ , ‘Christmas’

“..Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” Husk huffs out, grimacing.

“Language. And, seriously?? Let’s just try it.” You try and persuade the cat.

“I’m with Husk on this one, toots.” Angel adds. Your head snaps to the Spider, furrowing your brow as he simply shrugs in response.

“Don’t care for these anymore like I used to. I bet most of us even celebrated ever since getting here, including you! Whens the last time you celebrated goddamn Christmas?!” He continues on, raising an eyebrow at you.

“..When it last happened in Heaven?” The confusion in your voice had Angel looking at you in an awkward manner as he just… turned his head away from you.

“That’s even more of a reason!” Charlie exclaimed, quickly turning to her girlfriend and motioning for her to speak which led to her giving a small sigh, and a gentle smile before turning to the rest of the group with a now blank expression.

“So- we want you all to take a poll. You’ll all get a small slip of paper, and a pen. Then write down your answer. After you’re all done with that, then just slip in into the bowl.” Vaggie explained, gesturing to the bowl resting on the surface of a wooden table with a dark pink cloth draped over it.

And just as said, Vaggie and Charlie gave everyone (including themselves at the end) a small slip of paper and a pen to write with. Husk grumbled about how stupid this was, but still scribbled something down, Angel doing the same but with a huff of annoyance beforehand. Niffty had to be more excited than either of them, being the first to put her answer into the bowl. Then Charlie put hers in, then Vaggie did, then Angel and Husk (begrudgingly- that is). So there was just you, and the Radio Demon.

You didn’t know what to put down.. honestly. Biting your bottom lip, you slowly wrote something down onto the slip. Arising from your spot, you treaded over to the table and dropped the paper into the bowl.

“Pardon me, darling!” Alastor excused himself, causing you to come to the realization that he was standing right behind you. Turning on your heel, you held out your hand.

“Sorry— here, I’ll put it in for you. As… an apology? Of sorts?” You awkwardly chuckled.

“Well, aren’t you a lamb!” He laughed, placing the folded piece of paper into your palm and you turned back around and dropped it in, before heading back (being that Alastor has already went back to his seat) to your spot and sitting down.

Charlie almost jumped out of her seat, rushing on over to the table while gripping onto Vaggie’s wrist. She was practically bouncing up and down as her girlfriend first picked up the bowl, shaking it gently, before she pulled out the first slip and cleared her throat.

“First holiday of choice...”

“Christmas.” The angel stated as the princess happily clapped her hands in delight, before she was given the bowl where she shoved her hand inside of.

“Next isssss…”

“Valentine’s day!” She beamed, grinning widely. The couple went back and forth passing the bowl.

“Valentines- WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS NOTE, ANGEL!!!??”

“Halloween!”

“Valentines, again.”

“..Whatever Angel said!!..I guess..?? Huh.. Okay um, so whatever Angel answered…”

For the last one, Vaggie allowed Charlie to say it (to which she was ecstatic to do.)

“And last but not least.. Valentines!!”

. . .

“Soooooo..” Charlie started as she looked at Vaggie, holding her hand tightly as they smiled at each other before once again turning to the group.

“The holiday is that we’re going to be celebrating is going to be..”

“Valentine’s day!!”

This was going to be fun.

Charlie had husk save all of the red wine possible, Vaggie was discussing possible decorations for the hotel, and you were left to find some romantic music to play on your violin and possibly on the piano.

Niffty was making sure that the Hotel looked more perfect than ever as to not have to worry about it after the soirée, and for the after party for just the employees and patrons of the hotel. (although, got more distracted by roaches more than ever.)

Angel Dust was feeling especially romantic, trying to advance upon Husk at the even more than usual, to which Husk had to endure and ignore.

For Alastor? God knows up to what he was doing.

Like— you could barely find him around anywhere..

But nevertheless, you tried to play some romantic pop tunes, romantic jazzy tunes, anything that would work for this holiday. Took you quite a bit, but when you got it- you felt very accomplished!

And this.. got Charlie to actually get a venue where you could play at..

Oh lordddddd….

Of course, you asked for Charlie and Vaggie’s opinions on it, and they were elated to hear it. (Mainly Charlie!)

You’d tried figuring out what outfit you were going to wear for the holiday, searching and scanning everything you possibly had in your wardrobe for something.

And you found that very something.

The outfit that you’d chosen was lovely, in your opinion. A white collared dress up shirt underneath a red, button up tailcoat. The back was a large ruffled fishtail hem, and with puffy sleeves that turned into long, fitted sleeves to the wrists. 4 golden buttons embroidered onto the chest area where the coat ruffed out into a darker red. The buttons had small, thin chains that connected them to the one across from each other. White fingerless gloves where a bit of it wrapped around your middle finger looked… nice. Nicer than you thought. This was then followed by some black pants, which were a bit baggy and flared out near the ankles And to top it all off, you put on some black heeled boots.

If you were to say you weren’t excited to show everyone your outfit and see theres, you’d be lying to yourself.

..this holiday thing actually might be a bad thing!

(Not that you thought so in the first place.)

You’d even play in that outfit as practice, just to see if it was comfortable and playable! (Which it very much was).

With every passing day approaching the Holiday, everything mainly felt like bliss. Charlie was more elated than ever, starting to teach more lessons about how Valentine’s day could help the Hotel more, Vaggie was.. very high strung (yet tried her best to relax for her girlfriend when asked by her). You yourself even started helping with decorations around the Hotel just to get the couple to relax for at least an hour. You ended up working for almost a whole day, yet it was worth all of that time and work. They deserved all of that resting. And the best thing at that? You did it mostly by yourself!

Very rewarding, if you might say so yourself.

Before you got self-conscious about everything you helped on.

Especially when the special day had arrived.

What if they don’t like it?? What if they don’t like your music? Don’t like your outfit???? If you make a fool out of yourself, then what next?? You’ve become so tense, your shoulders almost reaching to your ears— this is not going as ‘stress-free’ as you’d planned.

Fidgeting with the cuff of your overcoat, you bit your bottom lip and anxiously awaited for the inevitable knocking that would arrive at your door soon. As an angel, you’ve gotten quite stressed due to a multitude of reasons, but this might be one of the more stressful and worrying situations you’ve been in since.. a bit.

The hand twiddling with the cuff then turned to your other hand, playing with your fingers. A part of you really didn’t want the string of knocks to arrive, but.. there was really no control over the current circumstance. Only to freak out about something you’ve worked so hard in, something you thought you’d looked decent enough in, decorations they’ve probably already seen and possibly laughed at- your breathing hitched at the thought. God, you feel so stupid. They’re going to hate it, you’re going to embarrass the Hotel, aren’t you?

Knock, knock!

And there it is. That dreaded sound. Your nails started digging at your hands, and you felt your stomach drop. This is going to be ruined- you’re going to ruin it.

Hesitant to open the door, another knock sounded out as you further approached the door. And with a final deep breath, your hand rested gently on the cold metal of the doorknob before twisting it and swinging it open.

To someone you.. weren’t exactly suspecting to see!

Alastor!!

“…Good evening, Alastor!” You almost stuttered over your own words, forcing a smile to plaster itself onto your lips.

Even more surprising, the man was dressed much more differently!

A black, long collared dress up shirt where it’s sleeves slightly poke out with a red cross on the chest under a Bordeaux red pinstripe coat with same colored lapels. A ribbon red waistcoat with rosy pink colored, vertical strips decorating it along with 2 wine red buttons. A pair black dress pants and his usual shoes, along with his gloves.

It takes you a moment to realize the stag has put up his hair into a small ponytail. Good grief… how can a man be so attractive.

“Good evening to you, my dear! I do believe it’s time for your little performance soon at this soirée!” His head tilts to the side a bit, trademark smile always on his face as per usual as he stares down at you. Your smile immediately turns into a small frown with a sigh from you, causing you to bury your face into your hands.

He halts for a moment, before continuing on.

“Now, what’s got you all a mess? I thought you would love this!”

“I do!! It’s…” The words lodge in your throat as you falter to continue on, turning away from the man with your arms wrapped yourself in a hug.

“..What if I fail- what if I look tacky?? In my performance, and by just.. looking at me and my appearance!!” Facing the man once more, you motion to your ensemble with a fearful look as your gaze downturns to the ground.

“If I fail.. I ruin the image of the hotel. I ruin my image, I ruin everything!! If i’m not perfect in this.. I don’t even know anymore…” Internally, you’re questioning on why you’re telling your deepest fears to an overlord known for being mostly apathetic to most. Who knows.

The overlord grin remains the same as his eyes narrow looking down at you. He’d be lying to himself if he didn’t like the little thing you had going on here! He enjoys the amusement of people failing so much!!.. but, theres something that pangs him right into his unfeeling and dead heart like a knife.

An exhale escapes past his lips as one of his rest upon your shoulder.

“Darling.” The biggest part of him is telling himself to say something akin to his normal snarky remarks.

But he can’t now.

Whats stopping him? Has he gone soft?? What in hell is wrong with him??

“I’m more than certain you’ll do wonderful in your little show for the Hotel. Have you disappointed us before?” Your head raises a bit as you open your mouth to speak, before a clawed hand reaches for your jaw and lifts it up to fully face him, making you avert your gaze almost instantaneously.

“You’re going to say ‘oh, I don’t think so. At least I hope so.’ And darling, only half of that is semi-correct. Your performances have not once failed to amaze us, including me, beyond belief and words that could describe it. Your voice is delightful, and your playing is even rivaling one of my favorite jazz songs from back in the day!! I can understand your stress, but you shouldn’t worry much about it, my darling doll.”

The mans words had you actually speechless.

“However, you can never beat me at piano!” He laughs, and you huff in response before he clears his throat.

“Now.. hasn’t this been enough dawdling for now, doll?” Alastor inquired, to which you leisurely nodded due to yourself still processing his words.

He hand already laced his arm with one of your arm, almost making you squeak out from surprise in response. Like a second instinct, you moved slightly closer to him, mainly behind, and bit your bottom lip once again.

“Off we go, now!” The deer explained in a sing-song-like tone, marching out of you, trailing behind while struggling to close your door…

Walking down those stairs is nerve racking as you keep your gaze downcast at the steps and your shoes, almost clinging to Alastor’s arm now with both of your arms wrapped around it.

As much as he despises touch- ..he doesn’t seem to mind this much.

“..Tell me if my touch makes you uncomfortable.” Oh? How thoughtful! His grin strains a bit as he strides on over to the group, you clinging to him as you take a moment before you start raising your head to the couple to which you have stopped in front of within the lobby of the Hotel.

And, they’re certainly matching.

You have to stop yourself from squealing like a fangirl.

Vaggie's ensemble has a black and purple mauve dress featuring asymmetrical layers and a feathered tailcoat of a matching red that Charlie has, eye-like designs embroidered into the fabric. Similar colored fingerless gloves she now wears, with a black ring with a bunch of hearts on her ring finger. Her hair has been tied up with her usual bow but now into a ponytail. A shawl-like garment is adorned with three bold red hearts along the left side in a line. She finishes up with dark lace stockings and white flats.

Charlie wears a black overcoat draped over her shoulders that reaches to her upper calves, and small golden sun shaped pins on both sides of the coat with a thin chain connecting them across her chest. She wears a black choker with a dark red heart pendant hanging off of it, and a golden bracelet around her right wrist. They even have matching, black rings with hearts all over it with each other!! Black petals adorn her hair, which is tied in her usual hairstyle. She wears a sleeveless, red top followed by a black and golden belt where the center is a golden shaped, empty heart. To top it off, she wears black baggy pants with black boot heels.

“..You both look-“

“WONDERFUL!!” Squealing, you start happily bouncing up and down, gawking at the couple with linked arms in front of you.

“Oh, thank you!! YOU LOOK AMAZING TOO!” Charlie beams, stars practically shining in her eyes.

Vaggie gives a nod as agreement with Charlie, and one of appreciation at the same time.

As the couple and Alastor engage within a conversation for who knows whats, you find your eyes wandering off to look at the rest of your friends to see what they’re doing.

Over at the bar, a certain well dressed spider demon and a slightly underdressed cat demon are.. ‘interacting’.

“Ohhh c’mon, babycakes. We could-“

“No. Go fuck yourself..”

“Only if ya’ watch me!” Husk groans at Angel, who has now slightly climbed onto the counter of the bar, to which Husk pushes him off.

You try to suppress the urge to giggle out-loud and decide to look for a certain small bug demon.

But.. you can’t find her—

“WOAHHHH!” Gasping, you almost recoil at the familiar voice, but ground yourself as your head snaps down to look at Niffty- who is all spiffed up!

Niffty’s hair has been put up into one that appears to look more like one from the 1950’s as it’s far more curly than before. It’s accompanied by two white roses which are held together by a thin, red wine piece of rope in the shape of a.. bow slightly sagging.

Her outfit incorporates a short sleeved, white dress up shirt, matched with 5 coral pink buttons aligned in the middle of the shirt. Added on, she has two pearl earrings and a white, and pink pearl necklace which is matched with a silver chain. The skirt of her dress has a sort of.. belt incorporated into it already as it has a slightly white, rectangle belt holder in the center of the blush pink skirt- which reaches to her ankles. White polka dots along with venetian red roses matched with a Russian green stems are embroidered on the skirt scattered all over it. To top it all off, she has simple white Mary Jane-like shoes.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you smile.

“Awwh! Nif, you look adorable!!” You pat the small demons head. Not in a condescending way.. just.. as a spur of the moment decision.

“YOU LOOK VERY PRETTY!!” She squeals out, bouncing up and down.

And before you could actually start speaking once again, the small demon… bunny hops onto your chest, making you stumble back with a squeak-like sound and unlace your arm with Alastor’s in order to have both hands on Niffty to make sure she doesn’t fall either..

You’ve noticed that the couple and Alastor have stopped their conversation, probably looking at you and Niffty now…

“I could add something to make you look better!”The words don’t sound too sinister, but she’s grinning like a maniac.

“..Like?” You anxiously smile. Her toothy grin grows wider.

“ROSES!! IN YOUR HAIR!!” Yelping out her words, which makes instantaneously nod her request, she giggles happily.

Suddenly the small demon… now has a bouquet of red and white roses. How? You have no clue. While she climbs her way to your shoulder, plucking some petals from both colored flowers. You try your best not to move as your gaze drifts off to look at the trio beside you.

Yep.. they’re staring at you.

“..You guys good?”

“Of course, my darling!” No. Nothings alright. Why is that little miscreant touching you?- why did she make you stop being so close to him now? He’s owned her soul for quite some time now, and knows how she acts, being quite fond of her! But, why is she acting ever so.. friendly with you?..

His smile has become more strained than ever as his head turns to the couple still looking at the display of you and Niffty. Charlie looks more excited than ever, and Vaggie is.. more surprised.

“Now! Where were we?”

As the conversation now resumes, Niffty finishes up with placing the rose petals in your hair, and actually plants on red rose near your ear!

“Okay!! I’m done!!!” Niffty practically shrieks out, clapping her hands as shes placed down on the ground.

“Thank you, Nif. It’s beautiful.” The small demon merrily bows before rushing off… somewhere else.

Nervously, your head turns to the center of the foyer, where the piano to which you’ve avoided up until causes to gulp. But, in response, you take a deep breath.

You just.. need to be calm. You need to relax.

What causes you to come back to your senses is a small tap on your shoulder.

“You ready?” Vaggie quietly asks, moving closer to you. And you pause for a moment before nodding, now putting a smile onto your face. She even gives a smile back.

“Alright, everyone!! Gather the hell up!” Angel and Husk both appear from the darkness of the Bar, approaching the center to where the small stand with the piano atop of it rests. Niffty has rushed into the room, happily bouncing from adrenaline, you suppose..

“We’re headin’ out. And we aren’t going to mess any of this up for the hotel.” She loudly exclaims, resting a hand on her hip as the rest of the group nods. Safe to say you’re panicking so much internally

Please, please do not let this venue end horribly because of you…

. . .

Backstage, you’re pacing.

The venue is lovely from what you’ve seen so far. Velvet curtains shroud the stage as of currently, which has you awaiting for your time to step up and play those lovely songs you’ve been practicing all this time.

As you had first entered: seating area is adorned with cushioned chairs arranged around tables draped in cloths of white, pink, red, or regal purple, each adorned with intricate heart designs. Silverware gleams under the soft glow of candlelight, while glasses of wine shimmer with anticipation. Plates overflow with delectable cuisine from most sinners and overlords who’d arrive here at the Princess of Hell’s invitation (of course, with threats unknowingly added by the Radio Demon!!)

Candelabras cast a warm, flickering light across the room. A polished and lavish golden chandelier hangs from the ceiling, its crystals catching the light as dangling heart pendants gently sway, casting a romantic glow over the scene.

At the bar, being ran by Husk, patrons are usually having ‘lively conversation’, as they await for their entertainment.

But thats also worrying for you, adding more stress. They’re awaiting you.

What if—

The curtains part slowly, and you tense. Goddamnit, no time to think, and no time to have these silly worries replay in your head. You impatiently wait for the curtains to fully open, as rehearsed before. And when they fully do, you can see the eyes of thousands just.. staring inside, from the wings. It takes every last string of restraint for you to try to relax yourself during this.. ‘predicament’.

Taking one last deep breath before the inevitable fate for you on that stage.

You stride with as much perfect posture you can, hands clasped in-front of your lap as you make it to your grand piano, stationed on the mahogany floorboards of the stage. It takes you a second to settle down upon the stood, but when you do, you hover your fingers over the keys of the instrument, recounting every single one in your head as best as you can.

With nothing more to think of besides playing, you start playing the first few chords..

And just like that, you’re immersed within your passion, and everlasting fears as you play key after key.

To say each of the residents and sinners were baffled would probably be an understatement. A great understatement.

You’ve been practicing.. so hard for this very moment, and everything you’ve done has been paying off. Charlie is just absolutely blown away, Vaggie is.. speechless, Husk has his eyebrows raised and arms crossed as his listens to the tune and your singing, Angel Dust is just grinning with an ‘I knew it’ look, Niffty looks like shes going to… explode, and Alastor.. is smiling. Smiling more than ever before- no, this is.. a genuine smile.

Turns out his word really was true.

As the last chord of the piano and last note of your singing lingers within the air, you awaiting for well.. anything.

Booing, laughter, anything.

It only took a few seconds for loud clapping to echo throughout every nook and cranny and your head snaps to the audience. They’re all cheering, all in a slightly similar way of course. Husk is nodding, softly clapping his hands with an amused smirk plastered on his lips. Charlie is vigorously clapping, bouncing up and down merrily as she hugs her girlfriend who was clapping at your performance with a small smile, as well. Angel is cheering the loudest, proclaiming “THATS MY FUCKIN’ BESTIE!” Or… something along the lines of that. Niffty is actually about to jump from her seat, and people start whistling in awe at your play.

Heat crept on your cheeks as you gave a sheepish smile towards the crowd, standing up to slightly shift away from the piano in order to curtesy in respect as they continue on with their cheering. Before you could process, flowers- specifically roses were being thrown onto stage. With widened eyes, you stand up straight again and stare at everyone, trying your best to ignore the heavy light which felt too warm for your liking- but you shouldn’t complain..

Flowers are constantly being tossed onto stage, the applause continues and you take another curtsey before scurrying off stage, making the lights dim.

You don’t really know why you ran off in such a beautiful moment, but you were going to have to leave eventually. The main thing is that you really aren’t.. used to such big crowds applauding for you. It feels much different than just being in a theater, for example.

Finding yourself backstage into the single dressing room it has, you almost collapse onto the sofa with a drawled out groan. You haven’t even bothered to turn on the lights within the room, or the lights on the vanity off- being your only light source as of currently.

..Not gonna lie, you’re probably going to fall asleep if you lay down like this for the rest of the evening.

That would be nice.

Yeah.. you might just do that.

Your eyelids slowly start to get heavier and heavier, making you shift to your side and slightly curling into yourself for warmth. May all be damned because this was surprisingly comfortable despite how you were dressed and.. well, everything else. And with just a few more seconds, you shut your eyes with a content smile gracing your lips.

“Now.. was I wrong, my darling doll?” A voice beams from the side, causing you to immediately rise up out of fear and shock. Well, so much for getting some rest now.

“Oh— Alastor! Hi!..” Trying to pull yourself together, ruffling up your hair a little with a hand, leaning back on the couch as you sit more in a tailor position on the couch.

He takes a moment survey the room, tapping a clawed finger against the side of his microphone before turning to face you. You swear you can see him hiding something behind his back- but you can’t prove anything, can you? You’re too tired for this anyway..

“What are you doing? Don’t you know, the people are quite excited to see you outside?” The inquiry has you blushing even more from embarrassment and hope that the floor magically eats you whole.

A huff escapes you, now turning to bring your knees up to your chest and bury your face into your legs instead of facing the one man who would make fun of you as he found you just trying to rest. It’s.. irritating. And, not really because of Alastor. Just, upsetting.

“Sorry. I’ll.. be out in a moment.”

“Before that, my darling. I have another question for you.” It takes you a second to raise your head up at the stag, staring at him as a motion for him to continue on speaking. He seemed almost hesitant to continue, but slowly managed to get the words to come out.

“Do you have a Valentine so far? Has anyone asked you?” Oh fuck.

He’s so going to mock you. Holy shit.

“..No.” Please please, please do not make any remarks. Don’t. Please.

“Mm.” The mere hum in response freaks you out, but you manage to keep a straight face as you’re internally screaming at the top of your lungs, probably crying as well.

Biting the inside of your cheek, nails digging into the cloth of your pants, close to the flesh of your legs as you await the interchangeable fate from this encounter.

“How would you like to be mine then, darling?”

..what?

You’re honestly.. shocked by this. The amount of time it takes for the cogs in your brain to process this new information is.. quite a bit. And, just before you can even utter a single word to the man’s advance- he reveals what he’s been hiding behind his back this whole time: wilted red roses. How romantic.

Blinking repeatedly at the gesture, you find yourself leisurely getting up and walking closer to the buck, gently wrapping your hands around his holding the roses.

“..I would love that.” Simply staring at the roses, you can’t help but smile and then look up at the man.

“And, is this you asking me out?” The query is mainly a joke as you chuckle a bit, his face still the same as ever: smiling, staring back down at you. However, you thought this mainly as a platonic gesture instead of a romantic one, being that you know a lot better. He chuckles for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Perhaps. Would that be so bad?” That definitely had your heart fluttering.

You’re still reeling from the unexpected gesture he’s made. His usually charismatic demeanor has softened, revealing a vulnerability you never thought you'd see in him. He should be withholding this. His eyes, although still half-lidded have a.. gentle warmth that draws you in. The air is charged with tension, a palpable mix of anticipation and uncertainty as you try to comprehend the depth of his actions. And with your thinking in that moment, you realize that this enigmatic figure before you is more than just ‘The radio demon.’ More than just a demon that has been feared for centuries.

He’s another mortal soul. Just like you.

Yet however, curiosity pangs you right in the heart as you recount the things he’s told about himself to you.

“Wait, Alastor,, are you sure?.. Please- I would not want to lose you over this. I know-” The more you overthink this and try to babble on, he slides his hand from under yours and brings it to cup your cheek.

“My darling doll, do you think I don’t love and cherish your company more than any of the others at the Hotel? it’d be a downright shame to not have a beauty as talented and great like you on my arm. Yet, I don’t believe you feel such similar feelings, no?” He laughs obnoxiously at his own words, but inside he’s.. he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if you don’t-

“Oh- no, of course not!”

He swear he can feel his undead heart halt like it had been beating all of this time.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your image anyways..” With a shrug, you feel guilt wash over you. Why did you lie?

“..It wouldn’t, my darling doll!” The reaffirming words seemed much more disappointed than before and it almost made you freak out even more. Did he know?

As silence passes through between the two of you, trying to figure out what to make of each other’s feeling and words. You start to speak.

“Alastor.. are you actually trying to court me?” The words come out as a whisper, a hand of your own reaching up to place over his on your cheek while the other still held the rose bouquet.

..Static.

Radio static fills the room.

You’re afraid.

“My darling doll.. would that be such a problem?”

“…No. I don’t think so..”

His grin widens even more than you could possibly think of after being strained for such a long while. His thumb brushes downwards to your jaw and tilts your head upward more, stopping as soon as he has you looking more at his own jaw and the lower part of his mouth.

“Now tell me, why would you lie to me? Quite the bad habit, doll!” That static from earlier has still not left- in fact, it’s gotten louder than you’ve noticed up until this point in this encounter. He’s even lowered his head to go face to face with you this time.

Goddamnit.

“I didn’t want to make things awkward between us. I truly value our friendship, and I didn't want to risk losing that by admitting.. that I saw you in a far different way than probably you did for me. It's not that I don't appreciate your affection or the effort you've put into courting me before or even now, it's just that I didn't want to lead you on or give you false hope. Not only that- I was certain that you didn’t have any romantic attraction to or for anyone for a matter of fact.” Speaking faster than you intended made it harder to even keep up with your thought process.

“Not in a rude way! Just- I care a lot about making you comfortable and not passing any boundaries of yours. You don’t like romance much, you don’t like when people touch you if you don’t initiate it first.” Your shoulders slumped as you continue to ramble on, or at least try.

“All that? Dear.. I told you exactly how I felt. I wouldn’t mind if it was you.”

“..Are you sure you like.. aren’t pressuring yourself to feel this way?? Or something?”

“Darling, I force myself to do nothing. It all comes naturally!” Oh yes, naturally. That obsession? As much as he despises it- it did happen.. naturally.

“Besides…” The feeling of his claws starting to dig into the flesh of your cheek causes you to whine in pain, flinching even. You almost drop the roses due to the sudden reaction. This.. is not something that’s happened before.

“You aren’t dating anyone, correct?” His odd sing-song-like tone made you so.. uncomfortable. Dear goodness, all the color drains from your face as your eyes widen a bit at this. Immediately pulling your hand off of his, now wrapping both arms around the bouquet.

His claws stop digging into your cheek, almost making you instantly cry if you weren’t restraining yourself, wanting to run away, yet he brushes his thumb against your bottom lip ever so gently. How can the same person who just hurt you be the same person with such a gentle touch, told you such comforting words and possibly be the same person who just hurt you?

Stumbling backwards away from the man with hitched breathing, your eyes anxiously survey the man who hasn’t moved but, his smile has become more tense as his eyes have become narrowed as he stares you down like prey.

Why in Heaven’s great name is this happening??

Feeling a warm liquid trickle down your cheek, you instantaneously raise a hand to feel the damage done- already knowing what it is. It’s fucking blood. The sensation of tears start welling up and you lower your gaze for a long moment as you try to piece everything together.

“You- why!?” You cried out, with the tears now pouring down and mixing with the blood on one side. Unintentionally, you back yourself against one of the walls of the dressing room.

Oh you’re so screwed.

“Oh? Are you against me now? But, you don’t know even the beginning of how deep these vile feelings course through me for you!! You started this, darling.” Screwing your eyes shut as you hear his footsteps start to approach, you can’t help the whimpers that leave you.

With the subtle touch of one of his hands on your shoulder, you no longer think you can see him as the same person you did before, even after the sentimental moment. Even after the few times you’ve revealed your feelings to him, no matter how kong you’ve spent time together.

“Everything I’ve done for you so far was because of these wretched emotions started fluttering around, making me feel so much at the same time. It’s infuriating. They’re filthy, disgusting, but they’re still there. But, perhaps if I finally do something about these, I’ll finally be able to be rid of them. Perhaps it’s time that I take action on these, no?” You desperately want to shake your head no- but being frozen with shock with everything currently happening does you no good.

“You’re my valentine, darling. Always mine, and mine alone!”

Those are the final words spoken as your tears continue to pour, but he couldn’t care less and kisses them away. He enjoys this anyway. After-all, you’re helpless. The entire situation is helpless. And with no other thought in mind, he finds his lips on yours in a chaste kiss.

You physically have no idea why this took so long- and I’m sorry y’all. ILY POOKIES, ENJOY YOUR FOOD.

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starogeorgina · 11 months

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Violent delights

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x oc

1.04

Your mother stares at her eldest son with admiration; she respected him for his proposal to protect his family, but she could sense your hesitation. “Jacaerys...,” she sighs, “my kindhearted boy, that is the most honorable of proposals, but—”

“A genius idea,” Daemon states, cutting your mother off before she can continue. “Aemma will be a Velaryon, thus protected from the greens.”

A heaviness builds in your chest as you listen to your mother and Daemon discuss the political benefits that would come from you marrying Jacaerys. Watching your mother cradle her growing bump highlighted the disadvantages. You’d never be able to give him a male heir or possibly any children of his own.

“I’m not suggesting this as a political arrangement,” Jace states. Your mother's eyes widen at her son’s words, and she looks up at Daemon, who’s grinning. He didn’t seem surprised by your brother's idea. “You're proof that marrying for love works.” Jace looks over to you, his dark eyes full of fear. “Lyarra?”

Struggling to find your voice, you look between the three of them, knowing that none of them wants to hear what you have to say. You loved your older brother far too much to let him marry you for the sake of honor; he deserves better. Tears start to build behind your eyes at the same time Aemma begins to scream, “I need to tend to Aemma; excuse me.”

You practically run out of the room, not looking back as your name is called.

The moment the door to your bedchamber is closed, you begin to sob, your stream of tears matching your daughters. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you say, softly kissing the side of her head. “It will all be okay, I promise.”

Reluctantly, you call for a wet nurse; not being able to feed Aemma yourself plagues you with guilt. When the wet nurse arrived, you handed Aemma to her and excused yourself. You go and stand on a small balcony just off your room, watching the waves crash below, not caring about your skin and clothes getting soaked.

You close your eyes, hearing footsteps closing in from behind. You just needed a few more seconds to clear your head before you were no doubt ambushed about how rude you were to leave so abruptly, but to your surprise, nobody speaks. You can feel their body heat rubbing off on you when a large cloak is draped over your shoulders, then the hood is pulled down to cover your face.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You open your eyes and look into the bloodshot eyes of your brothers; it hurts to see him looking so hurt by your own actions. “You didn’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run off like that, but I was just so overwhelmed.”

“Please don’t apologize or explain; it’s my fault. I put you on the spot, which I shouldn’t have done; I should have asked you privately.”

You cup the side of his face and say, “My sweet Jacaerys. I know you want to do everything you can to protect Aemma, and I am wholeheartedly thankful for that.”

He stares at you in disbelief. “You really think that’s the only reason I proposed marriage? Lyarra I was heartbroken when you married Aegon. And not just because he is cruel and vulgar, but because I’d be losing you forever. I’ve loved you since I was a boy, and I don’t ever imagine the day that I don’t. But I will not force you into another marriage.”

You cut him off by crashing your lips against his. Warm tears spill down your cheeks. You pull back from the kiss, rest your forehead against his, and chuckle softly. “I used to dream of marrying you when I was younger. How happy our grandsire would be, what we would name our children... but I stopped believing it was ever possible when Alicent declared I was a match made for Aegon.”

“If this is something we both want, then nothing is standing in our way.”

The sky above you had turned black as the winds picked up and the rainfall became much heavier. It was so dark that you could hardly see Jace standing in front of you, sighing and shaking your head. “I may never be able to give you an heir... After everything that Aegon put me through, the idea of ever laying with a man again... I just don’t know if I can do it. I’m sorry.”

“I will never force you to do something that you don’t want too. All I want is to keep you safe; as for an heir, we already have Aemma.”

Your eyes brim with tears, but this time it’s from happiness. “You mean it? Even though she is no-t”

“Aemma is my blood; I would risk my life protecting her regardless of what happens between us,” he says, clearing his throat. “But I promise you I will love her as my own, the same way Daemon has loved us.”

You kiss him again, but this time it is significantly more tender and sweet. “We should inform them of our decision,” you laugh, “assuming, of course, the proposal is still an option.”

He kisses you on the cheek before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and ushering you inside. You feel as if you are floating as your head spins with everything happening so fast. You just prayed to the gods that this wasn’t a dream you could ever wake up from.

𝘏𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘳 / 𝘝𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪 𝘷ã𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢 / 𝘔𝘦𝘳𝘰

𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘪𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘪 / 𝘌𝘭𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢 𝘪ā𝘳𝘻𝘢 𝘴ì𝘳 / 𝘐𝘻𝘶𝘭𝘪 𝘢𝘮𝘱ã 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘪 /

𝘗𝘳ü𝘮𝘪 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪 𝘴ē𝘵𝘦𝘬𝘴𝘪 / 𝘏𝘦𝘯 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘺 𝘮ä𝘻𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘯 / 𝘘𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘢

𝘰𝘻û𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪 / 𝘚𝘺𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘰ñ𝘰 𝘫ê𝘥𝘰 / 𝘙ÿ 𝘬𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘴𝘪

𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘸𝘰 / 𝘑𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘦 / 𝘈𝘯𝘥

𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 / 𝘛𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 / 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘴 / 𝘈 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 / 𝘛𝘩𝘦

𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 / 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 / 𝘖𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

“Fuck!”

Hearing Jace moan loudly in pleasure caused you to speed up your actions. You were eager to give him the relief he desperately sought. Usually you would enjoy teasing him, but since you rarely got alone time together, you needed to be quick.

“Lyarra, please,” he begs. “Please don’t stop.”

You pumped his member into your hand while Jace continued to lick and suck at your breast. He had seen your body change many times over the past few years, but his lust for you hadn’t changed. It was only seconds after the door to your bedchamber closed that he had you pinned up against the wall, his lips clashing against your own. Craving to touch him, you didn’t bother attempting to undress Jace; you pushed your hand into his waistband and took hold of his already hard cock. At the same time, Jace bit and sucked at your neck before pulling the top of your dress down so he could have better access to your heavy chest.

With a knock at the door, you and Jace jump apart; he quickly shoves himself back into his trousers while you pull the top of your dress back up. Unsure what to expect, you shared a look of concern with him; you’d explicitly asked to be left alone and only interrupted if it was important. You smooth your dress down nervously before opening the door to face one of your mother's handmaids.

She bows, “Forgive the intrusion; Princess Rhaenyra has urgently requested both your presence.”

Jacaerys thanks her before taking your hand, and quickly you head in the direction of the chambers your mother was in. Silently, you prayed it wasn’t anything too serious. Both you and your mother were pregnant again and stressful situations was the last thing you needed.

—

“Absolutely not!” Your husband clenches his fists and says, “You cannot go to King's Landing. I will not have you relive the hell you went through.”

You glance at your daughter, who happily snuggles into what looks like an old rag, holding it close to her face as she sleeps in your bed, unfazed by her father's loud voice. Jacaerys has always been hot-tempered but usually manages to maintain his composure; however, he was being pushed to the edge. His brown eyes are full of guilt and shame when he looks down at his daughter.

Lord Corlys' eldest nephew, Vaemond, insisted he should be Corlys' chosen successor, claiming your three eldest brothers were bastards and your mother was guilty of committing adultery. To keep Lucerys as the rightful heir of Driftmark, your family would need to travel to the keep and fight for his claim.

“We will be fine, my love, Alicent-”

“She is cruel; she will do anything she can to further the claim that me, Luke, and Joffrey are bastards,” he says quietly. “I will do anything to protect our brother, but I’m not putting you at risk at the same time.”

You could tell he was holding something back as he pulled on the threads of the soft gray fur hanging on the bottom of the bed. “Things will be different this time; I won’t be alone.”

“What if Aegon sees Aemma and…”

“And?” You cup his face gently and say, “You’re her father, Jace. You’re the one who raised her, and she loves you as her father. No matter what anyone says, that will never change.” You could see the doubt in his eyes. “They wouldn’t dare say or do anything to our sweet little girl; otherwise, they would have the whole of house Velaryon to deal with. Not to mention Daemon; he would bring fire and blood if they ever hurt his children or grandchildren.”

“I suppose you are right.” Looking defeated, he sits on the chair by the foot of the bed and sighs, “If my legitimacy is put into question, then so is our children’s.”

The gods had been kind since your marriage to Jacaerys, blessing you with both healthy male and female heirs. After a year of marriage, you finally felt ready to lay with your husband, and not long after, your second daughter was born. You named her Rhaenys after your grandmother on your father's side. Less than two years later, you give birth to twin sons, Avery and Aethan. All of them shared your Targaryen features; however, you secretly hoped the next one looked like Jace. “Then we will remind them that we are part Targaryen, and the blood of the dragon runs thick through our veins and our children’s. We need to do this; we need to go and show a united front for our family. For Lucerys. I will not allow the greens to treat him the same way they treated me.”

“Your bravery never fails to amaze me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand. For the first few months of your second pregnancy, Jacaerys often found you kneeling, eyes closed, hands pressed together, while you prayed for your babe to be healthy. It was then that he truly understood how terrifying living in the keep and going through each pregnancy alone must have been. Ever since he took every opportunity to remind you of that, He lets out a soft chuckle. “Do you think our dragons will be restless without us near?”

“We shall bring them with us. I will fly on Viserion and you on Vermax to the keep; our children can either fly with us or go in the carriage with our mother and Daemon.”

A little more content Jacaerys nods in agreement before he starts to get ready for bed. You force a smile, afraid to admit how truly scared you are to return to the keep.

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tbyfandoms · 1 year

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I’ve Got You | JJ Maybank x Reader

Pairing: jj maybank x f!reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: struggling with financial burdens, y/n starts to crumble under the pressure. jj notices the girl he loves is hard on her luck, so he does everything he can to help fix it (requested)

Warnings: descriptions of financial struggles and depression, mild swearing

Masterlist/Request Form | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: hello everybody! it feels great to finally get out my first fic of the new year! things have been kinda crazy irl so I haven't had a ton of time to write, but I just wanna say I appreciate all of your support and patience. when I got this request it really hit home, so I hope the user who requested this enjoys! in other words, I can't wait for s3 of obx to drop this month, I've missed my blondie <3

It was all beginning to be too much. You aren’t quite sure how much more of this you could handle.

Flopping onto your bed, you try your best to not fall asleep right then and there. You’ve just gotten home from a long shift at work, and to say you're drained would be an understatement.

You're not really sure where it all started. At one point you were fine, dealing with finances and typical life whatsits, when suddenly it all came crashing down.

Bills and necessities started pilling up and for some reason everything seemed to be getting more and more expensive. You were doing everything you could; taking on another job, spending less, even selling things you no longer needed. None of it seemed to help, though. You feel like you're being buried under all the pressure, and it doesn't help that it's starting to take a toll on your mental health.

Days and days went by where you would do nothing but go from one job to the next, come home and do what you needed, and then fall asleep. It was all starting to blur, you can't even remember what life was like before this all began. It makes you feel so sad and stressed, but you're not quite sure what else to do.

You're supposed to be hanging out with the Pogues tonight, and you'd promised you'd go since you've missed the last three hangouts to either work or catch up on sleep, but you're struggling to even keep your eyes open right now. Honestly with everything going on lately, you haven’t been one to want to socialize anyways. You can feel yourself pulling away from your friends more and more, but you feel as if you can’t do anything to stop it.

Turning over on your side, you grab your phone and check what time it is. It's early-ish. You could totally rest your eyes for a bit before you get up. Today was just so exhausting, it felt like you pulled a double because one of your co-workers called off and you had to do all their work as well as your own. The whole thing was a total nightmare.

It wouldn't hurt to drift off for a while. If you're a little late to the hangout later it won't be the end of the world. Everyone would probably just brush it off. So far no one's caught on to what's happening in your life and somehow that soothes you. You'd hate to worry any of them, they each have their own problems to deal with and you're not gonna add to the list.

Everything would be fine eventually. Although, from what you can see, it all seems far from fine.

*****

There's a rapid and consistent buzzing coming from your left side, and the feeling has you bolting out of bed.

It takes you a second to regain your balance and whereabouts, but as soon as you do you find yourself filled with panic. It’s darker out now, much darker than it was earlier.

When your eyes adjust to the brightness of your phone you see notifications on top of notifications of missed calls and texts. They’re all from the Pogues wondering where in the hell you are. You were supposed to meet with them hours ago. Shit.

Quickly, you open the groupchat you have with everyone and send a simple but honest text.

Had work today and passed out as soon as I got home. Didn’t realize how late it was. Promise I’ll be at the next hang, sorry!

Hopefully it’s enough to ease their minds. It’s not like you lied either, you really did have work and passed out. Just because you didn’t wanna go in the first place doesn’t mean it’s any less valid.

The thought sort of jars you. You can’t ever think of a time where you didn’t want to spend every moment with your friends, whether it be to surf, party, or just sit with each other. You frown at how much things have changed. You miss-what feels like-the old days, you miss the old you.

Your phone lights up with countless more messages from the Pogues as they take in your response. It's all a bit overwhelming. So, too tired to care you silence your phone and toss it aside. Just like everything else that isn't work, sleep, or bills; you could deal with it later.

Stomach growling, you decide you should get up and try to find something to eat. Making your way to the kitchen you think over everything you have to choose from, which isn't much.

Opening the fridge, your thoughts are further confirmed. It's practically a ghost town in this thing. You haven't had a chance to stop at the grocery store lately so there's not a whole lot to make. It's not like you have the money to go anyways.

Sighing, you close the fridge door and try to be creative with your limited options. Before you can even start to brainstorm though, there's several knocks at the front door.

Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you wonder who in the world it could be. You're definitely not expecting anyone, especially this late at night.

Slowly creeping to the front door, you nearly jump as more incessant knocking rings out through the house. Looking through the peephole your nerves both settle and start up again at the sight.

It's JJ. You know exactly why he's here before you even open the door, and that thought alone makes you nervous. You really don't feel like explaining yourself any further than what you sent in the groupchat, but it looks like that's finally starting to be unavoidable.

"JJ,' you say as you open the door, feigning as much joy as possible to try and throw him off. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? Y/N, what are you doing here? You were supposed to meet us hours ago and you never showed up."

The blonde lets himself in as he brushes past you. Blinking several times at the sudden intrusion, you close the door and begin to repeat yet again why you weren't there. "I told you-"

"No, don't. I don't want to her that bullshit excuse you sent in the groupchat because that's exactly what it is; bullshit."

Irritation flutters through your body as you take in JJ's words. "It's not bullshit, JJ! I did work today and just like I told you I passed out afterwards because of how exhausted I was! I can show you my damn timecard if you don't believe me."

Rolling your eyes you start to open the front door again, thinking it's high time JJ left. He's definitely overstayed his welcome if this is how he's gonna act.

"You know what? I think I would like to see your timecard. How about you show me all your timecards from the past week, month even!? Because it seems like all you do now is work."

The boy's words stop you in your tracks, hand on the doorknob. "I-I do not work all the time." You wince at your lack of confidence. You don't dare to turn towards JJ, knowing he'll instantly be able to tell you're lying.

"Yes you do, either that or you're lying to us, to me, about where you are every time we try to hang out or when I'm just checking in with you. There's clearly something going on." JJ's tone goes soft, concern seeping through his words as he continues. "Please look at me, Y/N."

Slowly, you turn towards him. You're trying your best to fight back tears, every instance of JJ or the others texting you flooding your mind. Every time you told them you had work when they tried to plan something or when you would cancel on them at the last minute when an extra shift opened up.

You thought you were doing good with hiding your problems and your excessive work and sleep schedule, but clearly you were wrong.

"There's nothing going on, J. I just get a lot of shifts at work, it's no big deal." Your voice gives at the end and you clear your throat to try and cover it up, but from the look on JJ's face, he's not believing any of it.

"C'mon, don't you think I know when there's something wrong with my girl?" The endearment has your eyes shooting to his, another sudden rush of emotion clogging your system. It's all too much to hold in, and you can feel the dam about to burst.

JJ apparently notices this too, because not a second later he's rushing forwards, his arms wrapping around you instantly. His warmth and familiar scent circling you.

The tears fall freely down your cheeks, soaking into JJ's soft, cotton shirt. Weeks worth of pent up emotion ravages your body, leaving you shaking and drained.

JJ leads you to the couch, sitting you both down but not letting go of you for even a moment. "Tell me what's wrong. I can't stand to see you like this."

Looking up at JJ, you try to regain your composure as he wipes away the tears on your cheeks. The subtle brush of his thumbs across your skin has you feeling warm and safe.

It's evident by the look on his face that the blonde isn't going to let this go. He'll sit here all night with you if he has to, that's how much he cares and how much he's worried about you.

There's a part of you, albeit small, that knows you should've confided in your friends about everything going on, should've confided in JJ at the very least. After everything you've been through together it should've been a given that you couldn't keep something from him for long.

Shaking your head, you try to think of where the hell to start. How do you just come out and tell someone you care so deeply for that you're struggling financially? Mentally? And that you have been for months?

Considering you don't even know where everything began, you just try you best to recount when it all started weighing heavily on you. You tell JJ about all the bills, about taking on a second job just to barely make ends meet. You tell him how depressed you've felt, how closed off, how tired.

It makes your heart hurt how JJ's eyes gloss over, how he shakes his head and scoffs in disbelief over everything. You know you're struggling badly right now, but to see how it effects someone when you finally say it all out loud makes it seem so much more real.

"I can't believe you've had to deal with all that, that you're still dealing with it." The blonde takes off the red hat he's wearing and runs his fingers through the waves that have been hidden there. "Why-Why didn't you tell me?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you bite your bottom lip to try and hold back the tears threatening to spill again. "I guess I just thought it wasn't worth it. I know you guys have things of your own to deal with, especially you, and I didn't want to add on any more burdens."

"Hey, no, none of that." JJ shakes his head and reaches out to hold your face within his hands. "Don't ever think that you can't come to me with something like this. Sure I've got a dead beat dad to deal with, but that's nothing I can't handle. I wouldn't let anything come between me being there for you. You're not a burden, not even a little bit. Especially not when you're dealing with something like this."

Overcome with emotions, all you can manage is a nod along with a smile, your heart feeing so full and so unlike what's it felt like for ages. Although everything is far from being solved, it's nice to know you have people to lean on, that there's someone who would do anything for you when it feels like you've been alone for so long.

Removing his hands from your face and wrapping them around you once more, JJ hums into the side of your head and you can't help but to let out a long sigh, trying to let go for just a moment and be here. It feels good to be wrapped in the Pogue's arms. To be honest, you could stay like this forever.

Before long, your mind is back to worrying about everything going on, about your difficult situation and how there seems to be no end in sight. "What am I gonna do, JJ?" You whisper while holding the boy a little closer, needing to feel grounded somehow.

Devastated by the broken sound of your voice and heartbreaking situation, JJ does his best to rack his mind of what he could do to help you. He'd offer you all the money he's got, but he knows you'd never accept it, not even as a gift. You're too proud and selfless to ever take money from anyone, especially not your best friends.

The boy grows restless, frustration and sorrow coursing through his body as your story replays in his mind. He can't wrap his head around how this has happened to you. Sure, it's not uncommon for those who live in Outer Banks, but the fact it's you rips him to shreds.

JJ thinks back on what he did when he was strapped for cash. Back to when he had to pick up the slack every time his old man went on a weeklong binge and didn't go to work for weeks on end. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind and the blonde rushes to offer it to you.

"What if-what if I talked to my boss to see if we can get you a serving gig or something where I work?"

You look up at JJ with skeptical eyes, not sure if what he's saying could really happen. "I don't know, J. I mean, are you sure? I tried to get in there when I was looking for a better job, but they weren't hiring."

"Yeah! I know I'm shit for a busboy but my word is good, and with your references you'd definitely get in! One of our servers just quit to go back to the mainland because she couldn't handle island life anymore, so it's perfect!"

You can't help the giggle that slips past your lips. This one sure has a way with words.

"C'mon, Y/N, it would be great for you. The pay is way better than the jobs you have now and the servers even get tips. You wouldn't have to have two jobs anymore and could worry a little less about bringing in money. The worst thing you'd have to deal with is the Kooks, but you know how to handle them better than anyone." A coy smile plays at the edge of JJ's pink lips. "Plus, you'd be able to see me a lot more too."

"Okay, I'd love that, thank you" you reply shyly. Looking away from JJ for a minute, you can't help the doubt creeping in all over again. "What if it doesn't work out, though? What if your boss already found someone. I can't be without a job, JJ. I need to make sure-"

JJ grabs your face, holding it in his hands just like he did earlier. The warmth instantly filling in the cold spots the fear began to create. "They didn't and you won't be. No matter what happens you still have the two jobs you've got now, but hell I'd quit and let you have my job if it means you can stop struggling with those. I mean it when I say, I've got you."

The boy flashes you a smile before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, doing anything to try and get you to feel better. Luckily, it works. You smile back and lean into one of his hands as heat rushes to your face.

"You really know how to make a girl feel better don't you, Maybank?" There's a hint of teasing in your tone, but you truly mean it as well. People may say JJ is a lot of things, but they can never say he's not a good friend.

"Anything for you, baby," he winks. Rolling your eyes, you push away from the blonde before he can get too cocky over the way he makes you feel. There's a smirk on your lips as you walk back towards the kitchen, stomach fluttering for more reasons than just being hungry.

Opening the fridge, you try to scrounge up an idea for what you can offer JJ. "You want anything to eat or drink? There's not much but I'm sure we can think of something."

"Yeah, starved! Forget cooking, though, you don't need to do all that. Let's go to The Wreck, you know I would die for one of Mr. C's burgers."

Laughing, you nod your head as you close the fridge and make your way to the front door. "That actually sounds amazing, let's go."

"Hey," JJ says, stopping you as you put your shoes on. "And don't worry, it's on me."

Tilting your head to the side, you look quizzically at the boy in front of you. "Kie's parents don't even charge us when we eat there?"

"Okay, yeah, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"You're such an idiot," you laugh. JJ smiles at the sound and at the sight of your eyes gaining back a little bit of that sparkle he hasn't seen in a long time.

"But you still love me, though," he replies, not even needing to ask if that's true as he opens the door for you.

"I sure do."

As you make yourself comfortable behind JJ on his motorbike, you do your best to try and get your mind off everything. It's been hard to feel any sort of ease for as long as you've been dealing with this stuff, but with JJ it feels like for once you can just settle.

You have no idea if JJ's serving idea is gonna work out or what's gonna happen tomorrow. But you know at the end of the day you'll still have him, still have your friends, to help you figure it all out.

It's hard to open up about it all, but there's a part of you that knows it was the right thing to do with JJ. He's the greatest person you've ever met, and you wouldn't trade him for the world. And just like he said earlier, he's got you, and that's all that really matters.

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