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sungbeam · 2 months

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𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

nonidol!choi san x gn!reader (no prns mentioned)

turns out your upstairs neighbor has a cat who adores climbing through your window — oh, and said neighbor is also fine as hell.

3.7k words, neighbors au (2 lovers), fluff, maybe like two swear words, drinking, lots of mentions of food

a/n: low-key just read this like ur watching the highlight reel of a romcom lol but @jaehunnyy for u 💖 i hope u like it :'))

It all started about seven months ago when a gorgeous Thai cat waltzed into your apartment via the open window. It was a late July afternoon, stifling hot and sticky, meaning you had your window opened and the mobile fan set up to blow cool air into the apartment.

You were, for once, not at work. Because the art museum you worked at downtown was currently undergoing reconstruction, you were stuck in your apartment trying (failing) to sell prints off your low-traffic Etsy shop while also trying (failing) to make popsicles.

“Why is this so complicated?” You grumbled aloud as you sat on top of your kitchen counter with your knees pulled beneath your chin. You scrolled down the recipe again on your laptop screen, nose wrinkled at the amount of convoluted steps listed. “Too fancy,” you decided, slamming your laptop lid closed.

Immediately, you hissed, lifting the lid to make sure you hadn't cracked the screen from closing it too hard. Thankfully, there were no cracks visible and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You could not afford a broken—

“Holy shit!” You nearly fell off the back of the island counter at the sight of a light gray cat with black tipped ears, paws, and tail seated on the floor before you.

The cat meowed an innocent greeting.

You pressed your hand to your hammering heart and shifted to get a grip on your position atop the counter. “How—? Where…?” Your eyes drifted to the open window.

Oh. Well, that would explain it.

You glanced back at the cat, who peered up at you once more. “Meow.”

Carefully, you climbed down from the counter as to not scare the creature with any sudden movements. “Hey, baby. Where did you come from, hm?” You cooed, extending your hand out as an offer to be sniffed.

The cat unfurled its tail out from around its body and crept toward your hand. With an experimental sniff, you were deemed safe, and the cat rubbed the side of its face affectionately against the back of your knuckles.

Your chest nearly exploded from the cute interaction. You lowered yourself to your knees, gently taking a peek at the silver charm attached around the collar. There you found the engraving of a star in the metal circle.

“I'm guessing this has something to do with your name?” You hummed, reaching up to scratch the feline behind the ears and head. At least you had an inkling that this little one belonged to someone. You just didn't know how to find out who they were.

“I guess you can hang out with me,” you sighed and stood up with your hands on your hips. You didn't mind the company, after all, and maybe this could be a point of inspiration.

About three hours later, the summer sun still hung relatively high in the sky and you were trying to figure out what to feed the cat when there came a sudden knock at your front door. Really, the “sudden knock” was a series of rushed, panicked DUDUDUDU sounds. You nearly jumped out of your skin for the second time in one afternoon, and even the cat seemed to leap.

Well, the cat only looked mildly annoyed that her nap was interrupted, but she seemed content to give a languid stretch and join you in seeing who was so alarmed at your door.

When you peered out the peephole, your eyes shot open.

There was a pretty man at your door.

You glanced down at the cat who looked back up at you. You mouthed to her, pointing at the door, ‘Do you know this guy?’

As expected, she did not answer. Lovely.

You weren't exactly in appropriate garb to see people. You had thrown on something cool enough to not make you melt like one of the popsicles you weren't able to make earlier, and enough to cover any necessary areas. You were sure your hair looked about as luxurious as a barn, and there wasn't a lick of cosmetics on your face.

It was fine, you told yourself. You probably weren't even going to see this guy ever again.

You opened the door. “Hello? Can I help you?” You asked through the chain linking the door shut.

The man flashed you a flustered, dimpled smile at you. His dark hair was damp, like he just came out of a shower, and he had on a muscle tee that was definitely doing its job, and a pair of basketball shorts. “Hi! So sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you've seen a Thai cat wandering around here about yea high—?”

“Meow.” The cat at your feet shoved her way between the gap you made with the door and out into the hallway.

Your eyes widened another smidge, until the man outside released a gasp of relief and bent down to scoop the feline up into his arms. You unlatched your door and opened it fully now, the man holding the cat to his face as if he was communicating with her telepathically.

“That's the cat, I'm guessing?” You mused.

He tucked her back into his arm and his smile became sheepish. “Yes, I am so sorry about her. I came back home from work and she wasn't in the apartment, but thank you for dealing with her for however long she was here.”

You waved off his concern with your hand, sending him a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it, really. She's adorable. What's her name, by the way?”

“Oh, this is Byeol,” he cooed, lifting Byeol's paw up to wave at you.

Swoon. Your smile widened as you waved back at them both. “Well, it was nice to meet you, both Byeol and…?”

“San,” he answered. God, he was gorgeous. That smile… “And you are?”

“Yn.” You shook each other's hands in the dim hallway light.

“Nice to meet you, too, Yn.” He lit up, pointing up to the ceiling. “Hey, I'm pretty sure I'm your upstairs neighbor!”

You opened the door to your apartment wider so you could show him your open window. “Well, that would definitely explain how she got down onto my fire escape,” you chuckled.

He whistled lowly. “Man, cats are scary sometimes. I'll definitely try to keep an eye on whenever she's near my window now.” He ran the back of his knuckles down Byeol's spine. “I don't wanna take up any more of your time, but thanks again.”

“No worries! Have a nice night.”

“You too!”

San began walking back toward the stairs at the end of the hallway, and you were about to close the door when you thought you heard him chastising his cat in hushed tones. You laughed to yourself as you locked up your front door. You wouldn't mind if Byeol came traipsing down your fire escape again.

And she would. About three times a week when San had a later shift at the boxing gym he worked at (yes, a boxing gym… good lord). Byeol oftentimes expected you to have your window open, and if you didn't already have it open, she would sit out on the fire escape until you did.

Two months into the fire escape escapades, you gave up and left the window open just enough for her to squeeze through while you returned to work.

San would always come down to your apartment to retrieve her, and at some point, decided to swing by your apartment on his way up instead just to make sure she wasn't already here.

By month four when the days were shorter and the nights dragged longer and colder, you couldn't exactly keep the window open, lest you wanted to freeze your ass off in the safety of your apartment. Byeol would hop down the fire escape in the evenings when you were back so you could let her in, only for her owner to come barreling down the stairs, dimpled cheeks flushed and exasperated.

“I swear she likes you more than me,” he guffawed from where he stood out in the hallway as he always did. He shook his head as he watched the Thai feline waltz around his legs once, then circle back into your apartment. He arched a brow at her. “Look at her strutting. She knows exactly what she's doing.”

You swore there was a dash of red gracing his cheekbones now.

You bit your lip through a smile. “Well, you're welcome to come in. I was just about to eat dinner and I don't really think I can finish this roast chicken alone.”

“Ah, I don't really wanna impose,” he drawled, scratching the back of his neck and peering at you from beneath those lengthy lashes of his. He knew what he was doing—he had to know what he was doing. If Byeol could strut, then so could Choi San.

He promised to take you up on your offer as long as you let him run upstairs to grab a bottle of wine to contribute.

The last thing you expected to happen was to hear a knock on your window less than ten minutes later. You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound, folding over in laughter when you saw him waving to you on the other side with cold-bitten cheeks and a red-tipped nose. He clutched a bottle of red in one hand and gestured furiously to the window latch. “It's fucking freezing!”

“Okay, okay,” you grinned, walking over to let him inside. “Just so you know,” you said as Byeol welcomed her owner into your apartment, “usually it's just cats who come in this way.”

“Well, you might have to get used to a cat and a human coming in now,” he teased. San presented you the wine bottle with a flourish. “Milady, your beverage.”

“Why, thank you, good sir,” you jested and accepted the offering. “Make yourself at home!”

What you didn't expect was for such a statement to be taken so literally, and yet, you had no complaints.

Three months further along—making it seven in total since that first hot July day Byeol came in through the open window—you and San (and Byeol) were cooped up in your apartment as usual. It was a Friday night with dinner on the table, a TV show playing in the background, and a pair of wine glasses for the pair of you. Over the past few months, sharing a dinner together had become a weekly event wherein San would come in via window, and the two of you would have the evening together.

Sometimes it was just dinner, sometimes it was dinner and a movie, and sometimes it was even dinner, a movie, and drunk Pictionary. But every Friday night was yours and San's night.

Plus, he turned out to be a much better cook, so you definitely couldn't argue when he somehow wrestled his entire Le Creuset pot down the fire escape to feed you the most divine lobster mac 'n’ cheese you had ever tasted. (As if you'd ever had lobster mac 'n’ cheese before…)

“I feel like it would just be more convenient if I came up to your apartment instead,” you said with enthusiasm, your free arm flailing around as you melted dark chocolate on a double boiler upon the stove top. While San had the right side of the stove for his chicken and gnocchi soup, you had the left to prepare tonight's mousse for dessert. If San made dinner, you figured you could at least learn a thing or two about a dessert course.

He chuckled, “I mean, I'm not opposed if you ever get tired of hosting. I'm kind of a creature of habit though, which is why I don't mind coming down every week, but it's up to you, sweets.”

Oh, right. And the nickname. You couldn't even pinpoint when that started, but again, you weren't complaining.

“I don't mind hosting either,” you told him, “it's just that it's either you leave your super expensive cookware here or I go upstairs. I don't think Le Creuset has fire escape insurance.”

“You're not wrong about that.” You felt his hand gently brush against your waist as he slipped past you to get to the spice cabinet on your left. “Behind you,” he murmured by your ear before grabbing the jar of Himalayan salt (also his) and returning to his station behind his pot.

You couldn't deny the pitter-patter of your heart around him either. Things were coming to a point that you didn't know how to label. But perhaps that was the beauty of everything slipping into place. You carried on, “I think I've seen your apartment once, and that was when Byeol wouldn't stop meowing until I followed you guys.” You laughed to yourself at the memory. That had been an interesting night.

“If it's any consolation, your apartment has much more life in it than mine.”

“That's a lie,” you said pointedly. “Yours is just more meticulous.”

He snorted. “Meticulous. Might as well be as barren as a clinic.”

You passed him a glance. “I offered to paint your walls…”

San beamed back at you, dimples creating divots in the apples of his cheeks. “And I never said no! But—I do think that it should be something the both of us do together.”

Your brows creased as you took the chocolate off the stove to fold into the other mixture you'd set aside. “You wanna paint with me?”

“Yeah,” he said, almost bashfully. “I think it'd be a fun bonding and learning experience. And it would be cool to see you in your element, besides when you're drunk.”

The latter comment had you turning away to laugh. “Fair enough.”

When dinner was ready to be dined, and the mousse was freezing in the fridge, you and San sat at the kitchen island with your matching bowls of hot soup and glasses of lemon water for the night. Neither of you had remembered to buy wine for the week (surprisingly), but one week without alcohol wouldn't hurt.

The two of you clinked your glasses together, toasting to another week survived.

You took a sip, then spooned the soup into your mouth, wiggling around on your stool in a little happy dance as the flavors did their own dance on your tongue.

San smiled around his own bite. He swallowed, then said, “You know, I always know I did well when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That cute little dance,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it tastes good, is what I'm saying, sweets.”

Your skin warmed, and you managed to convince yourself it was the soup or the heater or something and not the beautiful man beside you. “Then get used to the happy jig, because everything you cook tastes divine. You should be a chef, San.”

“I could've,” he shrugged, “but I kind of like this little life.” He gestured to you with his spoon, a twinkle in his eyes. “Don't you?”

For a moment, you let the smile slowly unfurl onto your lips. You lifted your own spoon in agreement. “You're right. It's a lovely, little life.”

Now that you were in agreement, you fell into a comfortable silence as you both enjoyed your dinner in one another's presence. Byeol was hunched over her own bowl of food just by the foot of your stool, against the adjacent side of the island. You'd gone out and bought her a pair of food and water bowls, as well as her preferred food. San had been touched by the gesture, and Byeol most definitely appreciated it.

San wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Oh, by the way, next week.”

You hummed. “What about it?”

“Are you doing anything?”

You perked up, eyebrows lifting to your hairline. “Why do you ask?” It was usually unsaid by now that Friday nights were set aside for the two of you to share an evening, which was why you were confused by his question.

And then he explained, “It's Valentine's Day, so I just wanted to make sure I didn't interrupt or assume anything.” He'd said it so casually and easily that you nearly missed the slight nervousness in his voice, or the minor intonation of hope. “I mean,” he fumbled, “if you do have something planned, then it's no worries, really. There are plenty of other weeks—”

You shook your head, finishing off your water after having scraped your bowl clean. “I'm not doing anything,” you said. “Well, besides what we usually do.” You chuckled to yourself, “To be honest, Valentine's Day completely slipped my mind this year.”

And if you were truly being honest with yourself, every Friday felt like Valent—no. You shouldn't think like that. It would only make things worse about how you felt for him now. Plus, these past few months with San felt far too casual, too domestic, to be like Valentine's Day. Was Valentine's Day not for grand gestures and romance? This wasn't grand… though, you could probably argue about the romantic part…

“No, I feel the same way,” he nodded. “My friend Wooyoung just asked today if I was up to go to a single's party, which was why I suddenly remembered.”

Ah. “Oh, are you planning on going?” Wine sounded pretty good right about now.

He grimaced. “Probably not. I—I was kind of hoping you wanted to still do dinner next week—but, like, it doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. If that's what you're comfortable with.”

It doesn't have to mean anything besides how it usually is. What if you wanted it to mean more than how it usually was? There was nothing inherently wrong with how it usually was, but you couldn't deny that a part of you yearned for more. That part of you imagined what it was like if San didn't have to come see you via fire escape, and he was always in the same space as you.

There was a pause as you wrestled with your own conscience about how or if you were going to admit it to him.

He pressed his lips together. “I've made you uncomfortable.”

“No, you haven't made me uncomfortable,” you assured him swiftly. “I just…” You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead then returning it to your lap. “Of course, I would love to have dinner with you next week, but I’d like it to mean something else—if you are comfortable with that.”

You watched as that beautiful smile you'd come to grow more fond of blossom onto his face. “I'd be more than comfortable with that—I’d be really happy with that, actually.”

“Good,” you said softly, unable to bite your own smile away. “Then dinner next week, it is.”

There was something fundamentally different about this next Friday night compared to the others. Specifically, the context by which you and San went into the Friday evening of Valentine's Day was completely different. The apartment was aglow with the same warmth as it usually boasted, but there was a bouquet of blood red roses in a glass vase on the kitchen counter beside a bottle of red wine.

San was at the stove, finishing off the last bit for dinner before it needed to simmer for a good thirty minutes. You were in the living room portion of your apartment, flipping through the vinyl records to play before you pulled one out and set it up. As you moved the needle onto the record, you placed the empty cover back into its slot and turned toward the kitchen.

You froze in your spot, skin warming at the sight of San leaning over the island counter with an adoring look in his eyes as he watched you. “What?” You laughed, subconsciously adjusting the sleeve of your blouse.

“Nothing,” he smiled. “You're just—you’re gorgeous.”

You were sure if your face didn't give it away, there must have at least been hearts floating around your head. “You cannot just say that,” you chided weakly as you walked over to where he was, your expression growing shy.

His smile widened and he rounded the counter to stand in front of you, your back pressed against the edge of the counter. “I can, too,” he teased. He stepped back once and held his arms out, fingers flicking toward him to beckon you forward. “C'mere. Can you dance?”

“Some.” Your eyebrows arched upward as you stepped forward and took his hands in yours. “Dancing and romancing, Choi San? What magic do you hope to enchant me with tonight?” You joked, moving your left hand to his shoulder.

“Perhaps magic that will leave your window open for me on nights other than Fridays,” he said sheepishly as the two of you began to sway to the music waltzing out from the record player. “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your fire escape—”

You let out a laugh, ducking your head toward your chests. He did the same, an embarrassed grin coming onto his face as his nose nudged against yours.

“That was god awful,” he winced in apology.

“It was,” you agreed teasingly, “but I'll let it slide because you're cute.”

He shot you a bright smile. “Oh? So I'm cute? I guess that makes two of us.”

You weren't really sure at what point you realized you had fallen for this man. It was sometime between the Himalayan salt lectures and the dancing like an old married couple in your kitchen, maybe. You thought about the day he showed up at your door panicking about a missing cat, and to a future where you might have found yourself in his living room painting murals on his walls. Or perhaps… not his living room, but both of yours.

As you danced with your chests pressed together, hearts beating rapidly in sync, you gazed into those beautiful, dark brown irises of his and sank further and further into those feelings. They were gradually making themselves a home in your chest.

“What're you thinking about, sweets?” He murmured as you tucked your head against his shoulder and the arm he had around your waist rubbed the small of your back.

The smell of his cologne made you inhale deeply. You could get used to this—his smell, the feel of his body under your fingertips, his presence intertwined with yours taking up space in the best possible way. “I'm thinking that Byeol is a good matchmaker.”

His chuckle rumbled through him and softly into your ear. “You're definitely right about that.”

a/n: pls remember to reblog and comment if u enjoyed!

atz m.list

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cavillsbitch · 1 year

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Are You Sure?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner X BAU!Fem!Reader (use of y/n)

Summary: You find yourself in a very precarious situation with your freshly divorced boss…

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI!!! Smut ahead!!! p in v sex, protected sex, detailed descriptions of sex, let me know if i missed any

A/N: This is coming at y’all out of nowhere, I have been stewing on a series and in lieu of me not having time yet to get started on that, this was born. Also, sorry if there are any weird spaces below… mobile app post hehehehehehe. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2.3k

—

Of all the places you thought you might be this Friday night, naked underneath your boss in his bed wasn’t one of them.

The only thing you could hear was your own panting breath and the soft sound of his hips connecting with yours as he buried himself into you over and over again. You could barely think straight, one hand gripping his sheets and the other holding onto him for dear life. A little while ago, the two of you were out with the team for drinks after a case, and Hotch could tell you weren’t really feeling it. He’d offered to give you a ride home, and somewhere along the way you’d rerouted to his for a nightcap. Neither of you were particularly drunk, but you were thankful for the liquid confidence (and his) when he made the first move. He’d asked repeatedly if it was okay and if you’d wanted him to stop, knowing that he was your boss and that you knew he’d just finalized his divorce from Haley. You seemed to notice his flirting (that Emily and Derek continually pointed out to you, no matter how many times you’d brushed them off and said they were seeing something that wasn’t there) a little bit when him and Haley were separating, but you’d never ever think he was actually attracted to you, let alone to the point where he’d want to sleep with you, and yet…

The feeling of him inside you was more than you could have ever fantasized about (and you did fantasize about it). Not only did he take his time devouring you first, making you come twice with his mouth and fingers, but he made sure you were well enough aroused to be in nothing but total ecstasy when he was ready to fuck you. Every single stroke felt so fucking good. He was perfect. Well… perfectly sized for pleasure. Great in bed. Not perfect. Not… whatever.

“H-Holy… shit, Hotch…” your eyes screwed shut and your jaw fell slack as you heard him chuckle and groan.

“I think… we’re at the point where you can… call me Aaron, darling… don’t you think?” his pace slowed a bit, truthfully because he was close and didn’t want to be finished just yet, but he wanted to give you a moment to respond to him.

You opened your eyes and found his. God, what a dangerous moment. The look is his eye as he lazily fucked into you wasnt anything you could have prepared yourself for. You tried avoiding eye contact this whole time, and you were almost successful. You knew what would happen if you held his gaze, and here you were. You knew you’d be confronted with thoughts that you’d been successfully suppressing for a long while now, thoughts you’d only let brew when you allowed yourself to think about your boss in a way that you knew you had no right to, especially because they began well before he was even separated from his now ex-wife. The desire to open up to him right now about how you feel was right on your tongue. You wanted to tell him how sexy he looked with his hair all messed up, especially from your fingers running through and pulling it as he ate you out. You wanted so badly to tell him that his face looks much better being flushed from sex rather than being flushed from your typical daily compliments. Dare you tell him that you think you love him? What a stupid, stupid idea. You decided that it’s definitely best not to say anything, maybe ever, and just respond to what he asked you.

“Are you…” you stopped to sigh, the pleasure was still too much and you wanted to last for him, “… are you sure?”

You watched his eyes half-lid as he brought your right leg to rest on his shoulder. He leaned down to you further, allowing himself a new angle to thrust into you. His pace picked up again, and this time, you saw fucking stars. You tried, but couldn’t help the loud sound of your pleasure escape from your throat. You’ve never been fucked like this, and you knew he could probably tell, which you decided you’d curse yourself for later.

You could feel the air from his lips as he spoke right next to your ear, “Does it feel like I’m sure, Y/N?”

You nodded quickly, your arms now coming around him under his arms to hold on to his back, surely leaving marks with your nails. “Y-Yes… God Aaron, yes.”

You couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be affected by your use of his first name, responding with only a low and breathy moan. He drove you so close to your third orgasm, and you could tell he was close too. His name fell from your lips again as you tried to speak, “I’m… Aaron I-I think I’m gonna..”

He panted and kept his pace, “I’ve got you, sweetheart, g-give it to me.”

The moment that your orgasm hit you nearly blinded you for a few seconds. The brightness of the pleasure your body felt was something you were sure was once in a lifetime. It affected your entire body, legs now shaking and back arched against the mattress. The pleasure kept coming as Aaron thrust into you. You didn’t even hear yourself nearly weep as you came, your pussy contracting strongly around Aaron’s rigid cock.

“That’s it, that’s a good… good girl,” Aaron stuttered as he followed close behind you with his own peak. His thrusts became sloppy, still trying to ride you through your high, as he drove into you once more with a loud groan. You whimpered as you came down, still feeling yourself ebb through pleasure as Aaron stayed inside you. The two of you breathed heavily together, locked eyes as Aaron smiled lazily at you. Goddammit. You were so fucked. Fucked.

He gestured toward your leg on his shoulder, silently asking for permission to move you so he could adjust and start to clean himself up. You nodded, trying not to make a sound as his cock left you. You didn’t think you were quite ready to move yet, but you tried to at least scooch yourself up by your elbows to begin coming back to reality.

Aaron stood, taking off the condom while making his way toward the bathroom in his bedroom. You watched him, getting a more normal view of his naked body, and for some reason you felt guilty for looking.

You shook your head, pushing the feeling away as you looked for your clothes on the floor. As you sat up, Aaron came out of the bathroom and grabbed a pair of sweats to put on. You stood, “Do you mind if I…” you gestured toward the bathroom asking silently.

Aaron smiled again, “Of course not, whatever you need. I have extra toothbrushes in the bottom right drawer,” he began walking toward the door with you, showing you, “If you want to shower, I have extra towels here.”

You nodded, deciding that would probably be a good idea. Smiling at him, you thanked him. He held your gaze, brushing your hair behind your ear, and leaned down to kiss you. It was brief, but surprising. He pulled away from you with a goofy looking smirk on his face, leaving you in the bathroom.

After your shower, you left the bathroom in a towel, and found your clothes folded nicely on the armchair in the corner of the bedroom. Aaron was in bed, reading glasses on, looking at a file by the light of his bedside table lamp. He looked up to you as you emerged, but you’d already made your way to the pile of clothes and started to get dressed.

“You can borrow something of mine to sleep in, if you need,” he said. You could tell this was his way of asking the question, ‘are you staying?’ and you weren’t sure what your response should be. Obviously he wouldn’t have framed it that way if he didn’t want you to stay, but did he feel obligated to offer? You knew you didn’t really have time to think about it, so you decided not to.

“I think I’m going to call an uber back to my place, actually. I’ve got some things to take care of pretty early tomorrow.”

Aaron was very good at his job. Aaron could absolutely tell that you probably don’t have something to do tomorrow that early, and that you don’t want to stay over. You hope he can also tell that it’s not necessarily because you don’t want to, but because you aren’t 100% comfortable yet, even if you don’t get a chance to become comfortable.

He set down his file and stood, “Let me drive you, don’t pay for an uber.” He made his way to grab a t-shirt and slipped on comfortable slipper-like shoes to wear in the car.

“Are you sure? I don’t mind getting an uber, Aaron, I don’t want to make you leave just to drive me home.”

Grabbing a jacket from his closet, he shrugged it on and walked over toward you. Without warning, he leaned down to your ear, delicately pushing your hair on the opposite side over your shoulder and caging you in with his hand then on the wall behind you, “Does it feel like I’m sure… Y/N?” he smiled at you slyly as he pushed himself off of the wall and walked past you out of the bedroom. You felt heat rise in your tummy and cheeks as you sighed and shook your head. What the hell were you getting yourself into? Following him, you grabbed your bag, slipped on your coat and shoes, and followed him to the car.

The short drive to your apartment was overall quiet, but as you were turning the corner onto your street, you knew you had to start the conversation. “Sorry for not staying the night… to be completely honest I wasn’t expecting you to offer.”

Aaron shifted to lean on the center console and nodded, “It’s alright, I know that tonight’s events overall seemed a bit unexpected. Hopefully you’re not dissapointed, though.” You turned to him, noticing the cocky smirk on his lips. Asshole.

You rolled your eyes and he laughed. There was a beat of silence before you spoke again. “Are we… do you want to just act as if nothing happened tonight? At work, I mean… and outside of work if that’s what you want.”

You wanted to smack yourself in the face for letting your thoughts out so freely. Your anxiety surrounding this part of the situation definitely was getting the better of you, and you weren’t sure what he wanted, which made things so much worse. As the car slowed in front of your building, Aaron put the car in park as you waited for his response. You knew he was thinking about what he wanted to say, which obviously made you even more nervous.

“Y/N, I know you realize that… this is a slightly complicated situation.” You nodded, urging him to continue, “I need you to understand that since Haley and I separated… it’s taken a lot of my own will power to keep myself from you.”

Everyone on the team knew that one of its strongest members was its leader, Aaron Hotchner. Hearing him confess that he’s had a hard time keeping himself away from you was a statement you could never have expected. You knew he was flirtatious toward you, no matter how much you denied it to yourself. You knew he was soft for you, you knew he favored you in appropriate ways, and you knew that the team noticed. You just wished that you let yourself see it. Maybe you’d have to start, that is, if he wanted you to.

“I… I loved and still have love for Haley, she is the mother of my son and the woman that I thought I would love for my entire life. Coming to terms with that not being the case has been hard. I would do anything for Jack, you know that. I don’t mean to tell you things you already know, but while things are still being worked out custody wise, and while we work out a way to tell the team and… Strauss, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to pursue you publicly. I need you, though, to understand that I want to when I can, if you’ll let me… and that I’d like to continue to see you privately, if that’s something you want.” Another beat of silence, “I like you… more than I should, more than I care to admit to myself. I think about you, I want to be around you when I can be. I… want you.”

You nodded, trying to hide a smile. “May I speak freely, sir?”

Something in his eyes seemed to darken at the formality, “You may, agent.”

“I want you, I have for a long time. I would really like to continue… whatever this is, whatever you want this to be, however you want to.”

The lustful look in Aaron’s eye turned briefly into fondness, you believe, if you caught it right. He reached for your hand and gave it a light squeeze, “I know this isn’t ideal for you, and I know it will be hard to keep this from the team. Are you sure?”

You adjusted yourself to lean into him and kiss him unexpectedly with fervor, a kiss that made him brace himself on the steering wheel and grasp the back of your head for reassurance. He grunted as you leaned him further back, returning the kiss so fiercely that you had half a mind to ask him inside with you.

You let yourself pull back just slightly to speak, lowly but clearly, “Does it feel like I’m sure, Aaron?”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner smut #hotch smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner reader insert

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3rdeyeblaque · 8 months

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On August 30th we venerate Young King Brother Fred Hampton on his 75th birthday 🎉

Deputy Chairman Fred Hampton was the one of THE greatest orators, leaders, and visionaries to join the Black Panther Party Of Self-Defense 🖤✊🏾

Fred Hampton was born & raised in the Chicago suburbs of Illinois. Civil liberties, rights, and laws were always of great interest to him. After graduating high school, he enrolled in a pre-law program at Triton Junior College in River Grove, Illinois. He joined his local NAACP branch to get involved in the civil rights movement. He rose to the position of Youth Council President for his strong leadership and organization skills. In this position, Brother Hampton mobilized a racially diverse group of 500 young men/women who successfully lobbied city officials to create better academic services and recreational facilities for Black American youth.

In 1968, he joined the Black Panther Party of Self-Defense, headquartered in Oakland, CA. Shortly thereafter, he was selected to head the Chicago Chapter. Here, he created strong personal and political ties with his mentor & chaplain, Father George Clements at the [then] Holy Angels Catholic Church; which served as a safe haven for the Panthers targeted for police surveillance or harassment.

Brother Hampton accomplished a great many things as a young, prolific leader of the BPP Chicago Chapter. He successfully negotiated a gang truce on live television.One of his greatest successes was an unprecedentedly integrated approach to sociopolitical unity; he formed a “Rainbow Coalition”, which included: the Students for a Democratic Society, the Blackstone Rangers, a street gang and the National Young Lords, a local Puerto Rican organization. He was the first leading Panther to achieve this. This alliance is what truly struck the cord of fear in the Chicago P.D. & the FBI. In an effort to neutralize the Chicago Chapter of the BPP, the Black Panthers were placed under heavy surveillance & were subjected to several harassment campaigns.

By 1969, several Black Panthers and Chicago cops either suffered injury or were killed in shootouts across the city, which resulted in the arrest of over 100 members. On Dec 4th of that same year, under the FBI's initiative, the County PD & Chicago PD conducted heinous, unlawful, and unnecessary raid on the Black Panther Party's HQ in the early morning hours while Brother Hampton, leader Mark Clark, and other Panthers slept. They fired over 100 rounds into the apartment without warning. Twelve officers executed Brother Hampton as he slept, drugged by a sedative slipped into his drink by "Panther"/FBI informant O'Neal. Naturally, in Jan 1970, the County Coroner's office ruled the Black Panther leaders' deaths as "justifiable homicide".

Over 5,000 souls attended Brother Hampton’s funeral. Many civil rights activates eulogized him, including his good friend and mentor Father George, who also held a Requem Mass for him at his church.

After many years of coverups, internal investigations, lawsuits, raids, and conspiracies confirmed, the FBI, County PD, & Chicago PD finally admitted to the wrongful deaths of Brother Hampton and Mark Clark. In 1990, and again in 2004, the Chicago City Council passed resolutions commemorating December 4th as Fred Hampton Day. Today, Brother Hampton rests at the Bethel Cemetery in Haynesville, LA where his parents are from - which continues to endure violent desecration from White Supremacist vigilantes/supporters.

" You can kill a revolutionary but you can never kill the revolution. People have to be armed to have power" - Young King Fred Hampton

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his love of our people, his relentless dedication to the BPP cause, and his young yet wise spirit that lives on. May be the find restful peace in spirit that he was/is denied in the physical.

Offering suggestions: flower offerings at his grave, libations of water, prayers and frankincense toward his elevation

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #atrs #the hoodoo calendar #the black panthers #Fred hampton #Chicago #black panther party #BPP #ancestor elevation #ancestor veneration

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hopelessdazai · 1 month

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✿ 》 Angelic You

╰⧼ 🪻 note.. ⧽ ; just a little thing because I got bored. I have a few works in progress done I'll get them out whenever I can. lord if I could work aesthetics on mobile. pleeaaase reblog my reach sucks

╰⧼ 🌙 contents.. ⧽ ; chuuya x afab reader. so much religious stuff but we're non believers its metaphors. non descriptive sex, mentions of acts of cunnilingus. fluffy if you squint.

what did it mean to be an angel?

was it the white wings of purity, a face made to be corrupted? ears that listen to those who deceive with the kindest heart?

you were more then that.

chuuya had never been religious - in his world full of gore and bloodshed there was no time or reason to attempt pray for higher beings. he found reflection and forgiveness at his own two feet - he didn't ever want to have to beg at the foot of a throne he wasn't even sure was real.

the only time a word of the lord would leave his lips was a hiss through gritted teeth. the word plagued with pain, rage, more. whatever was expressed to him.

the first time he spoke your name, it was the closest thing to saying a gods name affectionately. you were a celestial being to him - those stupid eyes of yours which he could see a future in. stupid hands that seemed to interwine so perfectly with his.

stupid voice that sounded so heavenly when his name fell from your lips, a benediction to an unlicensed holy matrimony.

the way the soft skin on your body glistened with sweat reminded him of the glass murals he'd see in churches. the painted glass that shone into those halls. how your hands held the sheets underneath you reminded him of an angels wings when resting.

"god, fuck.. _____ .."

chuuya had never been religious - with how you tasted on his lips while he feasted and your release on his tongue, he knew he'd never need a ceremony to drink the lords blood. he had his own right here. and he knew damn well you'd taste better then any cheap wine the churches had to offer.

in the garden of eden you were his apple. you were the only one that could cause him to sin the way you did. gentle hands cradling your back as it arched underneath him. noticing the way you tugged his waist closer, deeper, as you called to the heavens.

chuuya never would be religious. but you had to be an angel. his angel. one he could catch every time with his hair tied back as you fell from the elysium you were born into.

he'd be careful with your white wings for now.

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wallaceiswells · 1 month

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**after the coffee shop visit, Mobile had offered you to take you over for a movie night. he seemed pretty fond of you, and had opened up after just a couple minutes of talking.** **Now, you two were on the couch while Mobile scrolled through his Netflix account. He had gotten a blanket for you, and a blanket for himself. He had even made you hot chocolate!** ~ 🡇🕰

**Wallace had absolutely no idea why he was just hanging out with this random portal guy, but he didn't mind. He liked Mobile.**

"All of this movies suck, dude. There's nothing good. Holy shit Superbad-" He blinked and pointed at the screen, as he fixed the blanket to fully cover himself.

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serasfanfiction · 1 month

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CW for Alastor being Alastor, but that's to be expected. This chapter is all from his POV.

Alastor was having what he might call an exceptionally good day, if he did say so himself.

His mobility was almost back to normal, that pesky little parting gift Adam had left him having practically healed itself overnight. Why, he'd even been able to remove the stitches!

He had seen some improvement over the last month, agonizingly slow as it had been. Consuming the flesh and souls of other sinners had certainly sped things up a bit, but only finitely. He had resigned himself to the fact that healing would be a slow process, especially after the first time he pushed too hard and undid all the work he'd done up until that point. It had grated on him, but he could be patient.

If there was anything he was good at, it was being patient and bidding his time.

Getting a taste of angel's blood, though? Not just a taste, but a real go at it? Oh, now that had changed everything.

He hadn't had a chance at the holy feast following the last Extermination. He'd been too busy licking his wounds and trying not to bleed out. By the time he'd been able to pull himself together, figuratively and literally, the bodies were long gone. There had been claims about the rejuvenating effects some had experienced following eating of the flesh and drinking of the blood, but as it hadn't been a process they could readily replicate, it had done him little good.

Then none other than Lucifer Morningstar had offered himself up, willingly placing himself on the menu.

When the little king had done that little trick, the thought had crossed Alastor's mind. He was only human (deceased though he may be) and this was the father of temptation himself. Granted, it was likely Lucifer was used to being sexually desired, but hunger of a carnal nature had never been one of Alastor's sins. His hunger for the flesh had stopped at the actual eating of the flesh.

And Alastor craved nothing more than he craved the flesh of others like him.

He appreciated the irony of the whole deer situation. Karma being a bitch, and all that. His death in a hunting accident, of all things. Him, a predator in life, being reduced to a prey animal in the next. The Wendigo that lay beneath the surface, a very real manifestation of his hunger now a permanent part of his being. In life, he had hungered for the flesh of humans. In death, while he could still enjoy the odd sinner here and there, it was akin to 'empty calories,' he believed they were called. They curbed his hunger, for a little while, but it never quite seemed to hit the spot.

No, nothing quite filled him up the way venison did.

Before the creation of his bayou, he'd had to rely on the odd deer demon that appeared on the rare occasion. He was hardly the only one, but there never seemed to be enough of them. Butcher shops occasionally helped, but it never seemed enough. He'd been near ravenous towards the end there.

It had played a part in him making his deal. He'd wanted power, make no mistake, but he'd also wanted some control back over this gnawing pit in his very being. The ability to bend reality in small patches, to create the bayou (to reclaim a hint of home), had been such a welcome turn of events he'd almost felt what he gave up in exchange was worth it.

So he couldn't help but wonder, while Lucifer flashed those ears at him and called the very features that had nearly undone him 'cute,' how deep did the transformation go? Could a mimic sate his hunger as good as the real thing? The possibility that the seraphim blood might have rejuvenate powers didn't hurt, either

It would have been everything he needed, served to him in a little red and white package.

It had been pipe dream, he'd thought at the time. Nothing to seriously entertain. Despite appearances to the contrary, he did know he had limits. Adam had just been an oversight. His growth in power had never truly been tested and well.

Lesson learned. He wasn't keen to try his luck just yet, especially not injured and his microphone broken, limiting his power.

But then Lucifer had done something so left field, Alastor still wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it: a trade of his blood for some good behavior. In deer form, no less! The opportunity had been so good he'd had to hold onto his eagerness by the skin of his teeth.

Everything about the experience had not been a disappointment. Not only had he'd gotten quite a bit of entertainment out of the exchange, but it turned out the stories had been true. Within a few short hours of consuming Lucifer's blood, the wound indeed showed marked improvement.

The real treat, however, was that the hunger had indeed fallen silent. Oh, it had returned in due time, but how long it had stayed away! His appetite had only just been seriously returning when the first attack on the hotel happened, providing him with quite the meal and even a handful of angel's blood. He'd felt positively spoiled.

Getting to see the little seraphim in his full demonic glory had been interesting, as well. He'd known Lucifer had wiped the floor with Adam, despite Niffty being the one to kill him, but it was always different seeing it.

This was Hell's King. This was the entity the stories had talked about. All that power, right there on display, and all Alastor had wanted in that moment was to have this being underneath him again. Wanted to see how far he could push. To see how much Lucifer would let him take.

(Alastor wasn't certain what had possessed him to reach for Lucifer in that moment. Wasn't certain what he would have done had the little king decided to take him up on his offer. Had he simply wanted to hold that power in his hands? To burn himself on it?)

And oh, how his patience had paid off.

Such a huge gain and all it had cost Alastor was a night of his company and some information. Information Lucifer really should have already known, at that.

Now, Alastor was full and so very near hale and hearty again. Why, he was close to being able to tackling fixing his microphone soon!

Perhaps if he could have another feeding in the future...

Ah, but it wouldn't do to get used to this. Three times was already far more than he could have ever imagined, plus it never paid to put his wellbeing in the hands of others. They were so often unreliable. There were only two people in Heaven or Hell that he trusted, and neither of them resided in the hotel.

So, Alastor put the idea aside and went about his day as normal. If he had an extra skip to his walk, and his smile a touch more sanguine that normal, to the point he was receiving some nervous side glances, well, all the more entertainment for him.

He was feeling so well, in fact, he felt up to taking a little jaunt to visit one of his favorite people.

Cannibal Town was as lively as ever, despite their numbers had seen some reduction during Heaven's assault on the hotel. Rosie's Emporium, always the main attraction, was not lacking for people lined up to see their Overlord. The line was already starting to snake out the door.

Alastor strolled in, not minding the line in the slightest. Rosie always made time for him.

Sure enough, the woman in question looked up at the sound of the door opening, her ever-present smile widening in delight on seeing him. She never paused in whatever affair she was discussing with her current client, but she did make an effort to finish it up a touch bit faster.

He stood off to the side politely, waiting to see if now was a bad time or not. He wasn't bringing her anything other than his company and this was an impromptu visit.

"Alastor!" She greeted, loud and affectionate. "A visit twice in one month! You certainly know how to spoil a girl."

Alastor felt that little black thing that served as his heart warm with the genuine sincerity being shown his way. He matched her smile with an honest one himself. "Only those who deserve it, my dear, and you always do."

Rosie placed a hand to her cheek, bemused. "Oh, you." She waved over to one of the tables. "Now tell little ol' me what brings you here. You haven't gotten yourself into any more trouble, have you?"

He could hear a hint of concern in her voice and resolved to bring her a gift the next time he came over. "Oh, you know me. I'm always up for something exciting." He let her maneuver him into a chair set up at a table for two. "In this case, I was up for a walk and thought I'd indulge in your company, if you'll have me."

The Victorian Overlord's body language eased ever so slightly, adding to the suspicion she might have been worried. "Always, dear." She pressed a seemingly delicate finger to her lips. "Give me 30 minutes to clear this lot out and I'm all yours!"

He nodded, and she gave him a light pat on the shoulder as she went back to her work, pausing only briefly to have one of her workers send over a pot of tea. He spent the next half hour sipping on the latest delightful blend she was offering, watching the cannibals coming and going. Most were asking for the same thing they always did: someone wanting someone else to disappear, usually in a body bag they would of course hand over to Rosie.

After what he was sure was thirty minutes and no more (not that he would have honestly timed her, why, that would have been discourteous), his fellow Overlord was escorting the last of her clients out the door. Business completed, she turned on her guest. "Now that all of that work stuff is out of the way," Rosie said as she came to sit in the chair across from the redhead, "Come now, tell me all the gossip! Surely something juicy happened with how lively you're looking today."

Alastor supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she had seen through his mask the last time he'd been here. He'd needed to get away from hotel, just for a bit, as the strain of hiding his wound was wearing on him. None of his usual acquaintances had suspected a thing, and he had wanted to keep it that way.

But Rosie was hardly an 'acquaintance.'

He supposed since she knew already, it wouldn't hurt to assure her the worst was past. He also supposed he had a gift for her after all. Lowering the cup to the saucer on the table, he assured, "You could say I recently benefited from a rather unexpected deal recently."

Rosie raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Well, don't keep a girl waiting! Details!"

Because he was a little bit of a drama queen, he waiting until she had raised her own cup to her lips before he stated, "It turns out that all the rumors about angel blood is true, even more so for seraphim blood."

It was only because she had perfect control that she did not, if fact, choke on her drink. Rosie started at him for a long moment, trying to see if he was serious. When it became clear he was, she stated, "Well, shit, you certainly don't go small, do you?" She leaned forward, placing her free hand over one of his. "This deal didn't put you in a tough spot, now did it?"

Alastor's smile softened. "None of that, my dear." He didn't like to touch people, anymore than he liked being touched in return, but Rosie had always been kind to him, so he placed his other hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "All that was asked for was a who's who on Pentagram City's current political landscape."

Rosie tilted her head to the side, the feather in her hat swaying with the motion. When she withdrew her hand, Alastor released it. "Our King is showing interest in his kingdom?" She blinked, more than a little surprised. He didn't blame her. "My, what could have brought this little development about?"

Alastor pulled both hands from the table, a subtle cue he had had enough tactile contact for the day, although he wasn't completely closing himself off from it. "Someone has been sending mercenaries to attack the hotel. Drivel, mostly. Little more than snacks on the whole." He hummed in memory of all the free morsels that had been sent his way, lately. "The attacks haven't done anything, really, other than rile his Majesty up." He gave her a look of amusement. "He's begun an investigation into who might be behind the attacks and asked after us Overlords. I gave you a good word, of course."

It was a testament to how quick-witted she was that Rosie barely blinked over the idea that their sovereign had apparently not only crawled out of the wood work, but was also finally taking an interest in his kingdom again. "Oh, of course you did." She flapped a hand at Alastor. "Do tell him if he ever want to visit, he's more than welcome!"

Alastor made a noise of acknowledgement. "He's quite the character, our king. I'm sure you'd find him... amusing." Amongst other things, he thought to himself as he sipped on the last of his tea.

Ever the host, Rosie noticed. "Oh, dear me, let me refill that." She raised the pot of tea to do so, offering, "You know, I just remembered: we got in a fresh body just this morning. Would you like an arm?"

The redhead considered the request, but found himself much too full. Whatever room he'd had available had already been taken up by his drink. "I thank you kindly for the offer, but sadly must pass this time." He placed his now empty cup on its saucer. "Why, I dare say I might have to wait on another cup of this delicious tea."

Rosie didn't have pupils that Alastor had ever been able to track, yet he had the distinct impression he was being looked up and down. "That blood must have been quite the thing to curb an appetite like yours." She shrugged before pulling over a box of ring fingers. Some even still had the rings on them. "Hm, knowing you, a certain someone might have to worry about her seat - if she ever intends to come back."

Alastor paused. Rosie did that sometimes: said things that threw him for a loop. "What now?"

She waved a finger in a circle to indicate the entirety of her guest, her smile all teeth and knowing. "Come now, Alastor, I don't think I've ever seen you in such a state before. I almost think you have intentions towards the king!"

The redhead tilted his head to the side, considering. Did he have intentions towards Lucifer? He certainly wouldn't mind having another go at his blood. Riling him up had yet to get old.

The urge to hunt, sated though it was at the moment, thrummed through his veins. Here was the ultimate prey, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn the tides.

The memory of the smell of apples and something he'd come to associate with Lucifer rose to mind. Of warm, pale alabaster skin beneath his lips. The feel of hands that could so easily crush him carding gently, absentmindedly, through his hair.

For the first time since their little games had started, though, Alastor realized that sitting beside the urge to devour was the urge to keep.

He examined the thought. He meant it when he said he delt primarily in favors. There were so few souls that interested him enough to keep long term. They were usually individuals who ranked as powerhouses themselves. Investments first, entertainment second.

This urge resembled that desire, but not quite. He certainly wanted access to the power contained within that tiny little package that called himself the King, but beyond that, he was beginning to think he might want to own Lucifer in every sense of the word.

Well. That was certainly quite the turn.

He turned his attention back to the world outside his own head, finding his fellow Overlord watching him and patiently waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. "I'm afraid, my dear, I don't have an answer to that, but you have given me quite the food for thought."

Rosie, bless her, didn't press. Knowing how perceptive she was on matters of the song and dance that was interpersonal relationships, it was likely she knew more than he did.

He really was thankful he made an ally of her rather than an enemy.

The rest of their chat was turned to less deep conversation. Soon enough, she sent him on his way, but not before warning, "Now be careful, Alastor. Kitten our King may be, I saw how fierce he can be when pressed."

If it didn't mean acquiring one of those silly picture boxes, Alastor might have been inclined break down and watch whatever that voyeur Vox had filmed of the fight on Extermination Day. Incidentally, his pride point blank period refused to allow him to let such a thing anywhere near his person if he didn't have to. "Don't worry, dear. It's all merely a thought. I won't do anything lest I know there's a chance at success."

That seemed to mull her over. They said their goodbyes, and he was off back to the hotel.

The conundrum that was his entanglement with Lucifer followed him all the way back to the hotel, dogging his steps as he went through the rest of his day. He didn't see the blonde at any point before he retired for bed, which was likely for the best, as Alastor was distracted and unlikely to be at the top of his game.

He didn't see him throughout any point of the following day either, not that he was looking for him. He didn't give it a second thought, not until he came upon Hell's princess halfway into a tizzy in the main gathering room.

"But Vaggie! He hasn't come down in almost two days!" Charlie wrang her hands together, glancing at the ceiling in the general direction of her father's room. "What if something's wrong?"

Vaggie had a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, as much a comfort as it was a restraint. "What did he say when you knocked on the door?"

The hotel's owner bit her lip. "Just that he wanted to stay in for a bit. But that was yesterday. He didn't even respond at all when I knocked this morning."

"And you're sure he's still here? That he didn't leave?"

Charlie nodded. "His door is locked. He doesn't bother to lock it if he's not in."

Well, that's a silly thing to do, Alastor thought to himself. He filed it away for later. Deciding he was curious enough to join the conversation, especially since it seemed he might have been the last to see Lucifer. It would be bothersome if anyone thought he'd done anything to him when he really hadn't yet.

Alastor allowed his corporeal form to dissipate, only to reform right behind Vaggie. "What's this I hear about our esteemed leader disappearing?"

"Shit!" The fallen angel jumped, just as he hoped. Predictably, she spun around, bringing the point of her spear right up to his nose. "Cut it out, asshole. We don't have time for your games right now."

Alastor smiled down at her, as calm as a undisturbed pond, taking hold of the end of the spear and redirecting it away from his face. "And who's playing around? I heard our dear Charlie in distress and just had to see if I could help in anyway."

Vaggie narrowed her eye at him. One day, he was going to drive her to actually attempt to stab him. It would be such an entertaining day when it happened.

Charlie sniffed. She didn't necessarily look relieved to see him becoming involved, which, fair, but he could see something easing in her stance.

It was such a delight to see how much she'd grown to rely on him.

Stepping around the most hostile entity in the room like she wasn't holding a certified deadly weapon, Alastor came up to stand beside Charlie. "Tell me, do you have any reason to believe something might be wrong?"

She searched his face for any hint of falsehood. Any hint that he might use this against them.

She wasn't going to find any. She was learning to be more cautious of him, but she still had a long way to go before she'd see through his carefully constructed persona.

"Well... maybe?" She offered at last. He could see it in her eyes, her drooped shoulders: a certain helplessness. It was different from the kind that had driven her to make a deal with him. This kind was old, the sort that came from a time before the autonomy of adulthood. Likely this issue had roots in her childhood. "Mom used to say that Dad just kind of shut down sometimes. Worse than normal." She glanced at her girlfriend, likely for moral support, and then back at him. "Mom said it wasn't good to leave him alone during those times."

Alastor pushed down the eager swell that might have given up the game. Was it really going to be this easy? "And you think this might be one of those times?"

She mulled over this. Nodded, and then shrugged. "It's possible, but without getting past the lock..."

"I tried to pick the lock," Angel put out from where he was lounging on the couch, feet across Husk's lap. Husk, curiously, didn't appear to mind.

Charlie winced. "Yes, which is really not good! We shouldn't pick people's doors."

Angel shrugged, unbothered by the reprimand. "Didn't matter, either way. Turns out the door's magically locked." He made a handsy gesture with his top set of hands to emphasis his point.

Alastor looked between the two. "Is it warded?"

Everyone turned to look at him in confusion. Charlie blinked. "Warded?"

Oh, how quaint this lot was. "Magically locking the door means no one can unlock the door without breaking the spell. Unless the door is warded, there's nothing to stop someone from going, say, under the door."

Vaggie crossed her arms, posture irritated. "We can't go under the door, Alastor."

If he had his mic, he might have bopped her on the head just to mess with her. As it was, Alastor settled for smiling ever so sweetly at her as he pointed out, "Ah, maybe you can't, but it just so happens, I can."

Charlie shifted, uncertain. "You promise you won't make things worse...?"

She was so close that he could practically taste it.

Alastor placed a hand on her shoulder, softening his expression. "Now now, dear, we both know your father is hardly helpless. If he doesn't want me in there, he's more than capable of kicking me out."

Vaggie snorted, glaring viciously at him. "Yeah, not that that's ever stopped you."

Charlie glanced at her, warningly, before looking back at Alastor. She sighed and placed her hand over his. Feeling generous, he let her. "Alastor, please check on him, just... don't push, okay?"

Nothing but a formal deal was going to guarantee that, but he didn't have to advertise it. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

Her smile really was like sunlight breaking on the horizon when it wasn't being forced. She jerked forward as if she'd wanted to go for a hug but had aborted it at the last minute. Instead, she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Alastor."

He disappeared into his shadow, partially to avoid her changing her mind and going for that hug, but also to avoid any further stipulations on his task. Between the quality of his last meal and the leaps and bounds in the healing of his wound, traveling by shadow was almost as easy as it had been before his injury. Seraphim blood was a marvel. It was such a pity that there was so little of it in Hell.

Alastor had studied the entirety of the hallway that made up his and Lucifer's floor along with the rest of the hotel the first opportunity he got upon his return. His inspection had stopped at white doors, whose handles were adorned with the same apple accents that littered the rest of the hotel. As he slipped under them, he could smell the magic on the handles. True to his suspicion, the spell was only on the lock itself, with nothing to guard again something like a shadow slipping right under the door.

It seemed Alastor's self-restraint in light of his injury had paid off, because nothing hindered him in anyway as he made his way into the room of the most powerful being Hell.

Alastor stuck to the outskirts of the room, where the darkest shadows gathered. It wasn't difficult, as most of the room was in shadow, the curtains drawn with very little natural light peaking in underneath them. The room was silent in a way that, at first, suggested that no one was in.

Perhaps Lucifer had gone out and failed to tell anyone, after all?

Tentatively, Alastor returned to his corporeal form, keeping to the darkest shadow the room he could find. When nothing and no one came flying at him, he turned his attention to the room at large.

Overall, the room appeared sparsely furnished. There was a rug laid out in front of the door. Chairs surrounding a table big enough for two over on one side of the room. The fireplace didn't appear to have ever been used, but it was there. A couple of bookshelves and a desk were the most lived in, but that was only because they were covered in small, yellow shapes he couldn't quite make out in the dark. A bed took up most of the final wall. It was perhaps the grandest thing about the room, looking every bit fit for the king who slept in it. Two side tables sat on either side of it, both with a lamp of their own.

As for the king himself, now that he was looking for it, Alastor could see the faintest outline of a shape near the left side of the bed. Creeping closer, he could see a pair of familiar boots and coat laying on the floor. A little closer, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, he could see a pair of mimicked deer ears poking out the top of the nest of blankets.

For a long moment, Alastor simply stood there, looking down at the lump. His ears were strained for the first sign that his presence had been noticed, but so far there had been none. He could feel his grin widening with each beat of his heart that passed. There were so many things he could do in that moment and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

There was a part of him, the part that was still human and remembered what it was like to be human, that wanted to finish the job he'd started two days ago. When he'd been alive, allowing a victim to live would have been tantamount to a death sentence. A living victim could become a witness who could identify him to the authorities and then the game would be up.

Lucifer wasn't just a potential victim. He was the authorities. He was the highest authority.

After his death, Alastor hadn't had to hide who he was or what he was like. It was simply a kill or be killed world, where one's continued existence depended on brains and reputation.

And oh what a reputation the Radio Demon would gain, if he took out the King of Hell himself?

The chain - noose - around his neck sat heavy and loud, ever grating against his sanity. The memory of Husk's deal held so easily in a dark grey hand brought him back down to himself. Reminded him why he wanted to keep the little king around.

There was no other reason. There could be no other reason.

He admitted to himself that it might be interesting to just stand there, looming as he waited for Lucifer to awaken. The subconscious was a funny thing and people on the whole didn't appreciate being stared at when they slept. The general consensus was that it was creepy. It was half the reason he enjoyed doing it and it always left the victim feeling off balance. When his majesty continued to not respond, Alastor also admitted to himself that while he did normally enjoy such a plan, he wasn't that patient.

Ready to spring away, if necessary, Alastor reached out until those tantalizing ears were just under his hand. Unrepentantly, he flicked one of them.

The ear twitched violently, the lump beneath the blanket shuddered, ear going flat. Grey hands appeared along the edge of the blanket, pulling it down for Lucifer peer up at him.

The sinner waved his fingers by way of greeting at his king, who stared back at him with a pair of tired, dead eyes.

Lucifer blinked at him, once, twice... and then pulled the covers back over his head??

Alastor felt the glitch to his system, spitting static. Did Lucifer think he could just ignore Alastor and he'd go away?

Oh, no. Oh no, that wouldn't do at all.

Time to throw away the preverbal Nice Guy gloves. He clapped his hands once, sharply, one shadow going for the lamp on the side desk while another went for the end of the covers. With vindictive amusement, the covers were ripped clean off the bed, while the flick of a switch bathed the room in light. A third shadow went for the curtains, yanking them aside to let the afternoon light in. Over the low groans of the bed's occupant, Alastor proclaimed at just high enough a volume to be annoying, "Rise and shine, your Majesty! You've nearly slept the day away, but there's still some time left to enjoy it."

The blonde still didn't look like he gave any sort of fuck that someone was standing over his bed harassing him. Alastor took in the rumpled state of his king's clothing - he was still dressed in his suit, sans the pieces on the floor - as Lucifer threw an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the light. Without a word, he merely rolled over, presenting his back to Alastor, as if he wasn't a concern in the slightest. His tail didn't even so much a flick once.

Alastor narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It ground his gears more than a bit to be so blatantly treated as so little a threat, but the more he took in the situation, the more it drove home what Charlie had meant by 'just kind of shut down.' With the absence of the quilt and sheets, the reek of melancholy wafted off Lucifer in waves, nearly overpowering his usual scent. Little things observed over time - the most damning being what was glimpsed during their last encounter - and Alastor recognized what he was looking at.

Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil and King of Hell was depressed. Deeply, truly, very depressed.

This was the potential opportunity he was looking for. Alastor would have to be blind not to see it. Getting close to Charlie had given him influence over Hell's future ruler as well as a possible solution to his ...other problem. It was a long game he'd been more than willing to play for the potential future rewards.

This here was the king, himself, though. As he'd just thought to himself: the highest authority in Hell. Lucifer didn't have much by way of political influence beyond the people's fear of his power. He clearly wasn't willing to use his authority to rule over his kingdom, first advocating it to his much more interested wife, before abandoning it altogether when she left.

On the other hand, who didn't know who he was? The other side of the coin to God himself, Lucifer was one of the most well known beings in all of creation, the originator and father of sin himself. The being who'd given humanity their free will and so neatly interrupted his holy father's plans.

Lucifer's interest in politics may have been nonexistent, but his reputation more than made up for it.

Could he do it, Alastor wondered to himself. Could he force himself into something companion shaped enough to meet the needs another just for power? He'd already debased himself so much already - it was how he landed in his current situation, in every sense of the word - could he do it a little more?

Static emitted from his throat, his desire - his desperation - to be free at war with his pride, tattered though it's remains were. Companionship usually came with other expectations. Expectations that included touching, amongst other things. The mere thought made him want to claw his own skin off and nothing had even happened yet.

He hadn't realized he'd moved until he heard a squeak from the direction of the floor. Attention diverted, Alastor craned his head around, hearing his own neck cracking in the process, as he tried to get a better look at whatever it was he had stepped on. He blinked when he saw the object, unable to resist reaching down to pick up the item to better exam it.

It was... a rubber duckie?

Lips parting in his bafflement, he twisted around to look towards the desk and shelves he remembered seeing earlier. The light of the lamp and the outside world illuminated the yellow objects, revealing them to be a mass pile of what were indeed rubber duckies. Every single one of them was some degree of different from the others, but they were all unmistakably the same thing. There had to be over a hundred of them. Some of them were new, but some of them were old, likely brought over from the palace.

Disgust curled up in his chest like a living thing. Disgust at himself. Disgust at Lucifer for being living proof that power doesn't mean a damn thing in the end. His anger made him reckless, blind to the potential consequences, as Alastor asked, "Is this why they left?"

For the first time since entering the room, he finally gained Lucifer's attention. "What?"

The single word sounded like a warning, but Alastor had already picked up too much momentum. He knew he liked to poke where he shouldn't, that it could be the death of him one day. Perhaps today was going be that day. In that moment, weighted down by everything, he almost didn't care. "While your people were getting slaughtered and your wife's kingdom was being burned to the ground, were you making children's toys?"

Lazily, damningly, like the final nail in his own coffin, he spun around back to the lump that would be his king. He sneered.

"How pathetic."

The only warning he had was the flicking of that silly, ridiculous tail.

Suddenly, the room was spinning. No, he was falling - being pulled? - onto the bed. His back made contact with the mattress and he got a brief glimpse of the ceiling before it was replaced by Lucifer.

Who was livid. Hands like stone pinned Alastor down at the wrists. The rest of Lucifer's body weight rested on the sinner's hips, one leg resting on either side of his body. Every single one of his fangs were visible as he bared his teeth in a snarl mere inches from Alastor's nose. "Who are you to judge me? You dare to speak of things you know nothing about?!"

Eyes void of pupils glared down at him, staring down into his very soul. Feeling exposed, feeling vulnerable, Alastor's flight or fight response kicked in, sending his heart rate through the roof. He tried to dissolve into his shadow, only to find himself unable to do so.

In response to his distress, he shadows rose up, diving in to take out his attacker. Lucifer didn't even acknowledge them. His wings appeared behind him, flooding the room with a bright light that drove away any and all shadows.

Sensing he was caught, the part of Alastor's brain that was every bit the prey animal he worked so hard not to let himself be forced him to go still under a dangerous predator.

"You are nothing more than a rapid dog nipping at my heels." Lucifer growled, the smell of smoke heavy on his breathe. "I should put you out of your misery, once and for all."

Alastor swallowed, forced himself to think through the molasses of his fear. He may be pinned and powerless, but he wasn't completely without weapons. He was never more glad that his smile was fixed in place as he stated, "Ah, there you are, your Majesty. You had Charlie worried about you."

He was almost able to keep the grimace out of his voice. Almost.

Alastor wondered if that had been perhaps the wrong thing to say, as Lucifer tightened his grip until bones began to grind together. Red tipped fingers curled inwards, the only sign of his pain.

Golden pupils appeared between one blink to the next, tracking the movement. As if he actually cared about the pain he could be causing, Lucifer's grip loosened, just enough that they were simply pinning instead of inflicting harm. His voice, on the other hand, held no mercy, as he asked, "What does my daughter have to do with this?"

Growing more confident the longer the king didn't kill him, Alastor explained, "Well, when she didn't hear from you today, Charlie asked me to come check on you, of course!" It wasn't entirely the truth, but it was close enough to hold up under any immediate scrutiny.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, all to happy to bring on the scrutiny. "Why would she send you?"

Alastor shrugged like he wasn't pinned under someone who was just trying to kill him mere moments ago. "Because I was the only one that could get into the room. Perks of being the Hotel Manager!" As his panic began to settle with each passing moment Lucifer was slowly returning to his normal form, the feeling of his skin crawling from every point of contact between them was beginning to rise. He needed to get Lucifer off him and soon. "In fact, she's waiting for word back right at this moment!"

Lucifer's eyes, pupils red and sclera yellow again, searched him, likely to see if he was telling the truth. Upon seeing that he was, he proceeded to finally make a mistake.

He took his eyes off of his captive to glance at the door, hands loosing just that tiny, crucial bit more.

Alastor caught his heels on the edge of the bed, using the leverage to raise his hips up into a bridge. The new position forced Lucifer to either release his wrists to catch himself or face plant as he was thrown forward. Luckily for the redhead, Lucifer went for catching himself, releasing Alastor, who immediately sprung up, catching the blond around the waist. Twisting, the two toppled over.

Within mere seconds, their positions were reversed: Alastor on top and Lucifer pinned to the mattress on his back.

The little king blinked up at him. He almost looked impressed with the move. He glanced at the hands pinning his wrists, flexing them as he tested the strength of the grip. Squirmed a little as the new position was likely putting an uncomfortable weight on his wings.

Good, Alastor thought. At any other time and situation, Alastor might have been fascinated by them. At the moment, his grip on those deceptively dainty wrists and any signs of discomfort were the only thing allowing him to hold onto his sanity.

For a long moment, they simply remained still, both parties regaining control over their frayed nerves. As his heart rate settled, his breathing normalizing, Alastor became aware of something he hadn't noticed over the stench of melancholy: his own scent.

It was becoming stale, but he could still was still there, separate from what he was currently leaving behind. It clung to Lucifer's person like a neon sign to tell anyone with the nose for it that he had let the Radio Demon close enough to him to make a claim.

He hadn't gotten rid of it.

The knowledge awoke a beast of a different kind, possessive and wanting, the scales tipping from Alastor wanting to devour this prize to wanting to keep him, if only he could figure out how. It left him nearly dizzy with whiplash.

Movement pulled him out of the thought. The redhead focused back on the outside world in time to see Lucifer directing his attention down the length of his own body. Alastor, without thinking, did the same.

Something hot and mortified clawed at his throat as he realized that while the blonde had been sitting on his hips in the original hold, the change in position had Alastor pinning Lucifer to a bed while sitting between his legs.

Alastor threw himself off of Lucifer and the bed, feeling like every point of contact had burned him. Lucifer raised himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. The redhead didn't know what he saw in his expression before it was all locked away behind his mask, but it resulted in the blonde's own expression growing tired.

Lucifer let himself fall back onto the bed, seemingly heedless of his wings, running a hand down his face. "Message received." He waved a hand at the door. The spell on the door fell away with a light shower of sparks. Task down, the limb fell limp down onto the mattress. "Please tell Charlie I'll be down shortly."

It was a clear dismissal. Usually Alastor would have bristled at such a thing, but considering he did not want to be in that room anymore, he let it go. Forcing everything back into place, despite the ways his edges were feeling frayed, he said faux pleasantly, "As you wish, sire."

He paid little attention to the half assed wave of goodbye he received in response. When he disappeared into his shadow, he refused to look too deeply into how much it felt like he was running.

Again.

tbc

Part 8

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #alastor took over this chapter #and of course its the longest one yet #yay for development of their relationship #but is it good development #i'd hoped certain scenes would go differently #but alastor does what he wants #and here we are #we're back to lucy's pov next chapter #and some more time with the plot #i need to actually think about where it's going #so i have no idea when the next part will be out #but it has been started #yay #this fic now has a title #the inherent intimacy of courting death

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fafnir19 · 4 months

Text

Twelfthtide

My reflection in the mirror revealed a man who had weathered life's hardships. My weary eyes held the weight of my struggles, and my once-dark hair now showed signs of thinning. The lines etched on my face were testament to my difficult path. Despite the weariness, a flicker of determination still burned in my eyes, a trace of resilience in the face of adversity. I strode through the bustling corridors of the office, a facade of confidence masking the unease simmering within me. Despite my efforts, I found myself ensnared in the sticky web of office politics, with no escape in sight. My direct manager at least seemed to value the dedication I poured into my work, but the looming shadow of the company owner’s, Montgomery Kolthard, disapproval hung over me like a shroud. As the days inched closer to the third Advent, I received a summons from my manager to his office. I tightened my grip on the strap of my briefcase, a sense of foreboding settling in the pit of my stomach. The words that followed shattered what little hope I clung to: the Weynsteen deal had collapsed, and with it, my employment. My protests fell on deaf ears, as the decision to let me go was handed down directly from Mr. Kolthard himself. Dejected, I wandered through the festively adorned streets, my thoughts a maelstrom of despair, when suddenly, a sharp impact sent me reeling into darkness. A speeding car changed everything.

I awoke in a hospital room, only to realize that I couldn't move anything below my neck. The doctor's words delivered the crushing blow—I was paralyzed. Despair settled over me like a suffocating blanket, and I couldn't see a way out of the darkness. The stale air of the hospital room did little to lift my spirits as I lay there, imprisoned by my own motionless form. It was on the night of St. Thomas, the longest and darkest night of the year, that my world twisted into something beyond comprehension. A figure emerged from the shadows, introducing himself as Zamiel. His presence sent shivers down my immobile frame, and I struggled against the urge to flee, though my limbs refused to respond. Zamiel's voice, smooth as silk but tainted with a sinister edge, shattered the silence as he made his proposition. "Do not fear," Zamiel's voice echoed through the room, "for I bring an offer that will unbind you from the shackles of your condition. I can restore your mobility, but in return, you must serve me for a few days every year." I struggled to comprehend his words, the weight of his proposal pressing down on me. "Serve you? How?" I managed to croak, my voice strained with disbelief. Zamiel's eyes gleamed with an otherworldly light as he explained, "I conduct business with mortals, granting them their heart's desires in exchange for their souls. Your task will be to facilitate these transactions on my behalf. And fear not, for your own soul is not part of this bargain." Zamiel explaining that humans without souls did not make good bargains and hence, my soul was not part of the deal.

A wary skepticism gnawed at my thoughts, but desperation grasped at the threads of my resolve. With a mixture of dread and fleeting hope, I accepted his terms, and Zamiel handed me a quill and a piece of parchment. "How shall I sign the parchment? I cannot even move!" I protested. Zamiel's chuckle sent a chill down my spine. "Ah, but you can move well enough to sign your name. The ability will be restored to you, should you agree." Suddenly I felt the sensation return to my hands. With trembling fingers, I pricked my thumb, and my blood dripped onto the parchment. With newfound strength, I signed the contract. Zamiel summarized the deal: "When the gates between worlds close on the Feast of Epiphany, you will no longer be paralyzed. In return, you will work for me every year from Holy Eve to the Epiphany!" The next morning, I thought that it was just a dream. The days blurred together, and soon it was Christmas Eve. While others reveled in festivities, I could only brood in my hospital bed, feeling like a mere shadow of my former self. The cheer around me only served to highlight the cavernous void within me.

On the morning of the Epiphany, I awoke to a new reality. I found myself in a vast, opulent bedroom adorned with dark, luxurious furnishings. The air was heavy with the scent of aged wood and incense, and the grandiose setting reflected a level of luxury I had never known. As I stumbled across the room to a lavish, ornate mirror, I caught sight of my reflection and I was struck by the transformation that had taken place. No longer the 47-year-old man worn down by life's tribulations, I was now a youthful, athletic figure with an air of sophistication far beyond my years. The room itself exuded an aura of grandeur, with intricate tapestries adorning the walls and an expansive view that stretched out onto the sprawling city below. On the nightstand lay a piece of parchment, aged and weathered, bearing the peculiar mark of a crimson wax seal. As I examined the parchment, the words etched upon it seemed to dance before my eyes: "Your former boss Montgomery Kolthard cannot bear children, but has desperately desired an heir for his business. I, Zamiel, have granted this wish. You are no longer Christian, but Lucius Kolthard, Montgomery's son. Remember our deal: from the Holy Night onward, you must perform your service." Armed with the knowledge of my newfound identity as Lucius Kolthard, Montgomery's long-awaited heir my days were filled with schmoozing at elite gatherings, draped in the finest attire, and basking in Montgomery's adoration.

Everything I had longed for was within my grasp, yet beneath the facade of grandeur, an unsettling unease festered, a constant reminder of the pact I had struck with Zamiel. As the days turned into weeks, I found myself entangled in the web of Montgomery's business affairs, receiving an insider's glimpse into the inner workings of his empire. It was a heady experience, to say the least. Montgomery, often cold and distant, doted on me with an almost doting affection, treating me like the son he had always yearned for. However, the more he idolized me, the more I felt the weight of the unspoken expectations resting on my shoulders. The grandeur of Christmas Eve arrived, and as the festivities ebbed away, I retreated to my opulent chamber.

It was there that an inexplicable urge drew me to the ornate mirror adorning the wall. Stepping through the ornate mirror, I found myself in Zamiel's realm — a breathtaking place adorned with marble and gold, a stark contrast from the opulence to which I had grown accustomed. Zamiel stood before me, his presence commanding yet strangely comforting. "Lucius," he intoned, his voice resonating through the chamber, "what a striking devil you've become. Those tight pants and cloak suit you well." Zamiel's eyes sparked with amusement as he added, "I must say, I quite like the horns." I watched as his gaze lingered on the horns that had materialized on my head, a sign of the Faustian bargain.

With a sardonic smile, he gestured for me to follow, promising to teach me the art of striking bargains and the alluring nature of collecting souls. Despite initial qualms, I found delight in crafting contracts that would cost my clients their souls. My negotiations became increasingly cunning, and I relished my service to Zamiel. Additionally, I enjoyed the company of the incubus demons. As I stepped back into the mortal realm on Twelfth Night, I looked forward to the events of the coming year, such as my graduation and a planned sailing trip. Yet, I also anticipated my next service to Zamiel from the Holy Night onwards.

#male tf #male transformation #old to young #magic tf #devil #christmas #age regression #twelfth night

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voxofthevoid · 3 months

Note

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author. do you think you will ever write for other pairings in the jjk fandom, perhaps for itafushi?

Wait, hold up—

you're well known to be a fantastic goyuu author

I'M WHAT???

I'm...gonna be so normal about that. Yeah. Okay.

(I'm melting actually. Vox.exe has crashed.)

Re your question: My ao3 doesn't have any non-goyuu JJK fics for now, but I've written a few of them. All of them also have goyuu, so it's poly, typically V-types (e.g., goyuu and nanaita, but not nanago). You can find them here: chosoita+goyuu, nanaita+goyuu, sukuita+goyuu. Those links may not work on the mobile app though; you'd need to use a browser.

Re itafushi, I now have two ideas (more than the one it was when @thisdepravedsoul asked this question last month):

You know that new official art of Megumi? The magazine cover?

That did things to me, so I outlined a fic where Yuuji sees Megumi like that post-mission, gets a little gropey, and they fuck in a haunted school or something, followed by goyuu where Gojou sees what was done to Megumi and comes to sample the goods (Yuuji). The other one involves Gojou dubconning Megumi until Yuuji finds them accidentally and then offering him to Yuuji (who's oblivious to the dubcon aspects).

I do have several more fics with non-goyuu ships planned/outlined. They all also have goyuu because that's my center of interest in JJK, and it's pretty rare for me to write more than one ship at all. Yuuji has so many interesting relationships that I can't help it. Here's the current list, sorted by ship:

On top of the usual goyuu warnings, CWs include incest, dubcon/noncon, and implied MCD. The ships discussed are nanaita and sukuita, but Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji are mentioned.

Nanaita (plus goyuu):

oldest story ever told (hold me till we both go cold): Yuuji has complicated sexual relationships with Nanami and Gojou that are on the verge of either imploding or becoming more when Shibuya happens.

and every step forward put a little more sword in your heart: No-Shibuya post-canon AU where Yuuji's been pining after Gojou for years, he and Nanami have drunken sex, and it escalates from there on all fronts.

out of my head, into the nature: Vampire AU where Yuuji resurrects after the detention center with vampiric features; Gojou's only too happy to lend a vein, and Nanami gets roped into it despite his better judgement.

blood, lust, and a holy war: Gojou's the devil and Nanami's the angel on Yuuji's shoulder, and he fucks them both. The size is a bit of an issue at first, but they make do.

saints just swimming in our sins again: Established goyuu and nanaita where Nanami gets deaged, Yuuji tries to keep his hands to himself, and Gojou works very hard to make sure teen!Nanami gets some TLC.

Sukuita (plus goyuu):

of all the deadly sins, he's lucky seven: Omegaverse with omega!Sukuna/alpha!Yuuji and alpha!Gojou/alpha!Yuuji where Sukuna yanks Yuuji into his inndate domain to ride out his heat, and Yuuji's body autopilots its way into Gojou's asshole.

what does the poem of a killer say when it's written in the blood of the prey: Gojou and Sukuna are both gods and Yuuji’s a dragon-human hybrid who semi-accidentally tumbles into both their beds, separately. Fifty shades of monsterfucking.

no psychotherapy will ever relieve the hunted needing: Modern reincarnation AU where Sukuna’s reborn as Yuuji’s younger brother, and it takes everything Yuuji has not to smother him in his bed; it escalates into something very different. Then Gojou’s thrown into the mix as Yuuji’s high school upperclassman.

one day, the only butterflies left will be in your chest (as you march towards your death, breathing your last breath): Apocalyptic post-canon AU where Gojou doesn't get unsealed, Sukuna plays cat and mouse with everyone until only Yuuji's left, and they hate-fuck while Yuuji guards a weakening Prison Realm.

There are also a few others featuring Choso/Yuuji, Kenjaku/Yuuji, and Higuruma/Yuuji, one each for all three ships, but the bulk of my goyuu-plus ideas are nanaita and sukuita.

#anon #i love my anons #goyuu #itafushi #gofushi #sukuita #nanaita #i did not proofread this no time sorry!

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oh-stars · 22 days

Text

Two Seconds

C is for Compact

Ohstars Alphabet Prompts | G | 773 words | cw: N/A

---

Eddie does not babysit often. Not alone anyway. And when he did, Bubs was stationary and spent most of his time drooling.

Now, he’s still drooling a lot but he’s mobile. He didn’t think babies could move that fast! Especially ones who started crawling backward. (Which Steve is bizarrely proud of.) But Steve had to go in for a work emergency and Robin still had an hour before she’d be home, so Eddie, the gratuitous roommate and uncle that he is, offered to watch him.

He’s washing dishes, scrubbing the pots from where he’d prepped dinner since it was his turn, and had set up Jackson on a blanket in the middle of the kitchen with some pots and pans. Real classic Munson distraction method here. Little dude was happy as can be beating on the metal pots with a spoon and his hands, coming up with a song only he knew, while Eddie danced to his… music.

“I think,” Eddie says as he glances over his shoulder at a very focused Jackson, “that this means Uncle Eddie’s going to have to splurge on a real nice drum set for your birthday, squirt.”

He winces at a particularly loud bang. “Or maybe I’ll buy it to stay at Grandpa Jim’s, yeah?”

Jackson squeals as he throws the spoon-turned-drumstick.

“You got a deal,” Eddie says, pointing at him with a soapy finger. He turns back to the dishes, nodding along to Jackson’s playing.

He’s so close to being done with the dishes. So close to having dinner on the table and the kitchen cleaned by the time both Rob and Stevie get home, he doesn’t notice the music has… stopped.

The only sounds in the kitchen are the scrubbing of his sponge and the splashing of the dishwater. Not even the soft little baby noises Bubs makes! With a furrowed brow, Eddie glances over his shoulder to see… an empty blanket and abandoned pots and pans.

Fuck.

Eddie drops the pan into the water, grabs a rag, and flies out of the kitchen. He’s not in the living room. Eddie jumps around the stuffed animals and hard, plastic toys Jackson has strewn across the place. How the hell is he so fast? He’s not even a year old!

He’s not in his room, somehow the only clean place in the whole goddamn house, and he’s not in Steve’s room or his. Not in the hall bathroom or the little laundry room that someone must have left open. What the hell?

Eddie’s heart is racing as he barges into Robin’s room, the door noticeably cracked. If he lost their kid, they’ll never trust him again. Steve will never love him and Robin would sick Erica and Max on him or something. Fuck, she’d probably be the one to strangle him first, then unleash the girls.

Before he can panic fully, there’s a clinking coming from Robin’s bathroom. His relief is overshadowed by the horrifying thought that Jackson, sweet little baby Bubbles, has gotten into…. Anything? Everything?

He catapults over the bed and nearly dives into the bathroom.

Jackson freezes, mouth open as he looks up at him with big, curious eyes. His hands, however, are covered in makeup as he digs into one of Robin’s compacts.

“Holy shit, kid,” Eddie groans as he drops to his knees beside him. He pulls the compact out of his hands and starts brushing off some of the makeup.

This, apparently, is the wrong move. Jackson immediately starts to cry, big wails as he reaches for the compact Eddie stole from him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie sighs as he takes the makeup bag that’s spilled all around the bathroom floor and starts stuffing things back in it. “I’m the worst. I know. I’m so sorry I’m trying to make sure you stay alive until your parents get back.”

“Is there a reason my son is screaming?”

The scream Eddie lets out is unholy to say the least. He clutches at his chest and looks up into the mirror above him to find Robin standing in the doorway. She waves at him through the mirror.

“I turned around for two seconds,” Eddie huffs.

Robin laughs and steps around him to pluck Jackson into her arms. “Never turn your back on a baby.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I think I’m picking up on that, birdie.”

The door opens and shuts, this time Eddie hears it. Which is just peachy. Now Steve, perfect parent and babysitter extraordinaire, is going to see how incompetent of a babysitter he is. “Is something burning?” he calls.

“Shit!”

He runs out of the bathroom to Robin’s laughter.

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind for beta reading!!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #eddie munson #platonic parents #stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #ohstars posting challenge #alphabet prompts

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see-arcane · 7 months

Text

Of Debt and Death

And a dream that flows between them like a river.

Ao3 link here

“Centuries. Centuries he has been doing this.”

Jonathan looks up. He doesn’t remember how he got here. A moment ago he was sinking. Or was it floating? Either way, he drowned. Smothered. There is a certainty now as there was before that the Count is near. The closeness of him in Piccadilly had struck a deep and profound cord in him even in the crowd. Now that cord is an entire hellish violin playing until it screeches.

Here! He is here! Up, go, hurry!

But there was only the drowning. The sweet-bitter crush of a blanket around a strengthless babe who kicks and struggles to no avail.

Then, suddenly, here. The boat.

The ferryman has his back to him, hood drawn up against a frigid mist. Black shores hint at themselves through the fog.

“He has done this for almost half a millennium. Did you ever suspect as much in the castle, even with his dust-choked riches? An old monster, surely, but not ancient. Surely he couldn’t be. The people knew him. The people feared him. The people knew then all that the professor had to scrape from a library. You would not have lasted were it not for them and their holy icons, their gifts and knowledge. They know what it is to slay his kind.”

Still though he is, something thrashes violently in Jonathan’s heart. Wanting, needing, fighting to move. To be aware.

The Count is here.

Somewhere close. Near enough to touch. Jonathan eyes the mist warily.

“Do you truly think none have tried what you and your little pack mean to attempt in so many hundreds of years of horror under his reign? None at all? In times of war, in hours of bereft madness, they tried. Lances before the stake, sword before the saw. They tried. The most he lost were new conscripts and his temper. Ash to flesh, mist to teeth. He came back. Through steel and Cross and fire, he has always come back. And taught grave lessons to his enemies each time. He means to teach you all the same. Only he will not waste you on mere slaughter.”

Figures move on the black shore now. Watching them pass. Hazy as they are, Jonathan knows them all. Children. A mother. Sailors. Lucy’s wedding band glints as she waves.

“He will not let you go, Jonathan Harker. If he must lose any of the other jackals in potentia, you will still go on to suffer him. Through her. Through the cudgel he means to make of her and your heart. You have cost him too much to go free and he will have you bowed and bloodied at his feet. You may yet let him for her sake. Once he lures you back. All of you, so sure, so prepared, will lope after him to the genius loci, his realm of power. The land that worked against you from every angle, every muscle of Nature and Supernature. And there you will all do worse than die.”

Let me go. Please, something is wrong, I know it, I know the Count is close, he has done something, he is doing something, I need to go—

“Oh, yes. He has, he is, he shall do worse. God has not seen fit to stop him in four hundred years. He left humanity a few holy tin shields and wished you all luck. And when the Devil’s best student marks a soul to be his in eternity, he shrugs and lets the game go on with a lenience to make Mephistopheles seem a prude. Both will burn you, burn her, as they have burned untold victims in the past. Which is all to say that you will do as all the men and women of history have done when pitted against him.”

The mist thins. What had been a sparse milling of figures now revealed itself as a legion. Dead faces staring out at the river in an endless menagerie of souls reduced to cattle.

“You will lose. Because you are only what all his enemies have been before, what he sold his own soul to conquer unfettered. Mortal meat waiting for the butcher. If you want to win, to save her as more than a lifeless corpse or a mobile one, you must be something other than that same heroic chattel.”

I am no Faust.

“Nor could you be if I desired someone worth making the offer. I may not have time to rest on my laurels, but I have counted him as a nuisance not worth bothering with so long as he kept to his mountains. There are so few of his kind that make true trouble. But now he means to play a global tyrant. England is only the first step. Its colonies will follow. Its neighbors after them. The world is a throat and he is the tick who wishes to drink it dry. If God and the Devil consider Earth forfeit to laissez-faire, it falls to us and our like to do the work of seeing him pay a toll long overdue. So, to you I make my offer. To make you something else. To make yours what is mine. To end what should have ended on a battleground lifetimes ago.”

Jonathan rights himself on the boat. The river is leading into a cave vaster and more lightless than the void between stars. He tries not to stare at it, to focus on the back of the ferryman’s hood.

I will make no promise I do not understand the facets of. I will not be trapped again by details never given to me.

“As is wise. But desperation ever makes decisions on our behalf, Jonathan Harker. Your choice will be no airy whim. It will simply be the only choice to make. I do apologize for that. Gods and devils are not alone in rigging their games. Know this, at least. There shall be no need for a contract. No signatures in blood or fealties sworn. Such pageantry is not for us. No more than it was the day Peter Hawkins signed you on. The offer and its vocation will simply be ready and waiting for you. Make the decision. It will be done.”

Jonathan’s hand lands on the ferryman’s shoulder.

The Ferryman turns.

His eyes are burning hollows. His eyes are all that is left that could be called a face.

“Wake. She is calling to you.”

And he is in the bed with Mina.

And he is in a nightmare.

And he does not wake from it as she tells them all of the Count’s visit, her blood and the Vampire’s staining his breast.

And his body sits and breathes and listens.

And as his mind swims back to a boat on the River, a sickle grows where his soul should be.

#I am not now or ever done chewing on Jonathan Harker like a ragdoll #sorry buddy #jonathan harker #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily #my writing

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stressfulsloth · 1 year

Note

i saw you in the replies of heliokaminoses posts; tbh i don't think de talks about disability at all and i don't understand why he would choose to headcanon kim as blind (it's out of character, he is very independent)

Ohhh boy OK. I mean, I don't really want to get into a long argument about disability bc i am.. very tired, but holy shit independence and blindness are not in any way mutually exclusive! That's why mobility aids and canes and things are important! They give people their independence.

You're welcome to read into the text whatever you want, but Harry is explicitly disabled. He is obviously struggling with chronic pain through the whole game, he's going through withdrawal, he has post-polio syndrome after being ill when he was younger and paralysis that affects his facial expressions, he literally takes drugs to cope with his chronic pain and keep working. None of that is headcanon- it is literally in the text and its all part of the critique that the game offers of the RCMs structure within capitalism. Pretty big part of the game imo

#personal #ask #idk man i feel like this isnt a good-faith ask at this point but eh #but if you are i would really suggest you ask yourself why the idea of characters you like being disabled upsets you so much #it doesnt change who they are 🤷#disco elysium #anyone feel free to add or correct i am having a decently brain-foggy night so i might have fucked up what im trying to say #harry du bois #aaalso sorry editing but #im not visually impaired so i dont wsnt to speak for people on the kim topic #im thinking of mobility aids within my experience as someone with chronic pain and it's not going to directly translate across the same #DE rambling

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lokiforever · 8 months

Text

New teachers at school!!!!

Chapter 10

Series Masterlist

A/N: Greetings,midgardians!So,my lovely mortals as many of you know, following the results of the poll JK's role is now officially switched to a student. Tom will be teaching History and English.....

Nyt!💚

Y/N : Stay, please!

You said in a low, meek voice. His heart clenched at the sight of you so sad and troubled.

Tom : I'm right here, sweetheart.

He said and sat back down on the bed and once he was one hundred percent sure that you're back in your slumber , he got up and laid on the couch in the room . Just in case you get another nightmare, though he sincerely hoped you don't .

He had to admit ,this nightmare got him wondering that what so bad happened to you because of which you get those awful nightmares. He was pretty sure about the fact that they're connected.

-----------------------

You woke up by your mobile alarm, only to find ,Tom, peacefully sleeping on the couch. Always a gentleman. You didn't exactly remember what happened last night....but he was there with you,that much you could recall. You felt a bit bashful, now that you think of it ....he was your professor afterall 🤷🏻.

There was a text from Y/B/F/N....

" Hey!! I'll be staying at Jungkook's ..."

"Hey! Amazing!Sorry for replying late, At Tom's ..... 😅". You replied

You got up , as quietly as you could, didn't want to wake your professor up from his deep, peaceful slumber . As you tip-toed your way towards the door, you decided to make some breakfast for you two . So, you went down to the kitchen and started cooking.

You decided to make a proper English Breakfast with a cup of Earl grey. Humming a tune to yourself , you started cooking.

*After 20 minutes*

You felt a pair of hands on your waist and if it wasn't for the fact that you could recognise him just by his scent you'd have beaten the man up . 😅 Just a reflex after that incident because of which you get the nightmares.

"Good morning, darling!" You heard Tom's angelic voice, it sounded deeper as he just woke up.

He placed a kiss on your neck which made you smile.

"Good morning, sweetheart! Breakfast is almost done!"

His heart skipped a beat at the name , you never call him that.

"Mmmm.....I can already smell the delicacy you're whipping up ! What's on the menu?" " Classic english breakfast with a cup of your favourite Earl Grey tea !" you replied. "That sounds wonderful!! Let me help you set the table!" he offered politely. "Sure, thanks!"

As he helped you set the table up, you plated the breakfast.

"Bon appétit !!"

A contented moan escaped his lips as he took the first bite and hell if you wouldn't kill to hear that sound again....

" Mmmm ....you are an amazing cook , darling!! It's the best breakfast I've ever had! Scrumptious!!" He praised you with a heart warming smile.

" I'm glad you like it, Tom !! But hey - you yourself are a great cook !" you said . "Not as good as you!" He protested "Oh, come on!" you chuckled , a blush rising up your cheeks.

"Holy Shit!!! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE !!!!!" you said as you looked at the time. "Late to what, darling?" He said, totally clueless. "COLLEGE!" You replied. For some reason, he started laughing. " Why . Are. You. Laughing. Tom !!????" Somehow, this made him laugh even harder. " You didn't check the emails , did you?? " He said.

As you picked up the phone, you saw an email from your college informing that all the classes are cancelled for this week. "Ohh.......... sorry" you said , completely crimson from blushing. "It's perfectly fine, dear! Plus, do you know that you look cute when you're angry?"

This made you blush even harder, if that was possible......."Come on !!!" you said.."I'm merely stating what's true" said he . This made you chuckle, "Thank you, sweetheart!"

*After the breakfast*

"Y/N ??" He said while you were making a presentation on your laptop for a project ...so, you hummed in response. "Uhh.... If you don't mind me asking......" he trailed off, so you looked him in the eye and asked - " What is it that's bothering you, Tom ?" " It's just.....last night......as you were having that nightmare, you were asking me to tell someone to stay away....... who's that ?" he inquired, his voice full of concern.

You felt like your heart has stopped beating, your face went pale and you started sweating. "Uhh..........unmm...I-I .......i-it....." you tried to say something but failed as you felt a lump in your throat.

"Hey - Hey , it's fine, darling! You don't need to tell me if it troubles you ! " He got up and brought some water for you . "Here, have some water " ......

"I'm so sorry for the sudden outburst..... it's just - " you tried to explain, only to be interrupted by him "It's okay sweetheart, you don't need to explain!" He softly stated. "Wanna watch a movie?" he asked to distract you from that grief of the nightmare.

"Sure!" you said. Both of you then proceed towards the home theatre he had.

"Choose the genre, dear " he said. "Umm ....... what about a thriller or maybe even horror?" you suggested. "Up for a thrill , are we ?" said he .

You guys decided to go with "The Shining" a classic. He even made some popcorn and got a few cans of cold-drinks .

*Sometime into the movie*

You clutched onto Tom for dear life and hid your face against him as one of the scariest scenes came . The fact that you were watching it for the first time didn't help at all . "Do you want me to put something else?" He cooed slowly. "No, it's fine, thank you for asking!'

*After the movie*

"Good Lord , that was amazing, awfully scary.... but amazing!" You chimed in to which he chuckled, "I'm glad you like it, darling!" He said and kissed you on the cheeks which made you blush. You did not see that coming.

"Oh my ! It's 12:30pm !! I must go now!" you exclaimed. "Please stay for lunch..." said Tom. "Trust me, Tom ... I'd love to but I really have to go..." ofcourse, he did try to make you stay but you had to go .... " ........fine ! Let me drop you, at least!" "That would be a great help!" you said. " Oh come on, darling!"

*After the he dropped you off*

You were still sitting in his car , in front of your apartment...... which was apparently locked . Y/B/F/N must still be with JK.....

"Tom?" "Yes, darling.." "Would like to join me for lunch, please?" "I'd love to, darling, but as you know the weather conditions are rather.... harsh. I better get going before it gets worse." He said refering to the windy weather.. "But-" you were interrupted by his lips on yours ...."Some other day, darling, I promise" he said.

"Okay......." you said, not fully agreed. "Come on, like I said, it's a promise!" he said and chuckled. "Fine. I must go, then..." you replied. "What if you grab your essentials and stay at mine?" he suggested.

Chuckling, you said, "Tom, I..umm...you know, I....I can't...plus Y/B/F/N would be alone if I do so.... thanks though " you smiled ... "Okay......but text me if you need anything, no need to go out in this wheather" 'Okay, so it's official. He is the sweetest man in the universe.' you thought.

"You're so sweet !!!!!!!" you said, placing a kiss on his cheeks and you could swear you saw him blush. 'and the cutest too' you continued your previous thought.

"I'll get going, now . Bye, Tom" "Goodbye , darling!" You opened the gate of his car and stepped out, waving to him one last time before making your way towards the door of your apartment.

After a few minutes your best friend also returned.

"Y/N , I'm home !" she called out . "Oh, hey !! How did it go ?" you said. "AMAZING!!!!" She exclaimed. "Well, that's great. But I need the whole story" you said and chuckled. "Done!" said your best friend, chuckling.

The next few days went normally.

Time skip......

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*MONDAY*

You were qurrently getting ready for the classes and the first one was English.

Outfit of the day👆🏻

You paired your dress with a black overcoat as it was cold outside.

"Let's go, shall we?" you asked your best friend. "Totally" she replied.

On your way, you guys grabbed a cup of coffee and headed towards your destination...

English Lecture

You sitting on one of the front benches with your best friend. You both were a bit early so no one else was there yet .....as you took a sip of your coffee, you heard the door open and what you saw made you choke on your drink.....

"Good morning, professor" said your best friend. "Good morning, Miss Carter. Um, Y/N you okay?"

You could almost sense a smirk on his face at your obvious reaction.

Okay!? The man literally changed his hair colour and then he's asking you if you're 'okay' ? As if he wasn't already enough he had to change his hair to Black didn't he? And the cherry on top was the outfit he chose.....a blue knitted sweater with a pair of black slacks.

( they could've been a bit less 'tight')

Holy Fuck.

" Y-yes I'm good, thanks!" you reply not so 'swiftly' . "Oh, that's better"....

"Mornin', d- Miss Y/L/N" he said after a slightly awkward stop....and you could tell that Y/B/F/N was trying her best not to laugh, roll her eyes or even grin.

"Good morning, professor!" you said blushing

You couldn't have been more grateful for the lack of audience .

As the students started entering and the class begun, you tired your best to not be distracted by the new change.

*Later in Tom's office*

"You seem to like this, huh?" he said refering to his new hair colour which was totally unexpected as he was the ever subtle one.

"I-I.....uhh...." you were more blushing than talking, earning a chuckle from him.

"Don't worry darling, I won't bite...... unless you ask me to, ofcourse" he said with a smirk and you could swear he winked.

Ok, so now it's official. He is acting a bit different today. You quite liked it, tbh.

You gulped. You just gulped.

"Anyways, my beloved what are your plans for Christmas?" he asked switching the topic like a light switch. "Uh....umm..well, Y/B/F/N is going out with her family so I guess I'll have to either go with her or spend it alone"

"You're not spending it with your family?" he asked "I never met my actual parents.....my aunt brought me up and she too passed a few years ago" you said, tears welling in your eyes but you quickly hide them. "...... I'm so sorry...... What if you stay with me?For Christmas?" he asked "Um...I beg your pardon"

"How about you spend Christmas with me?"

*********************

A/N : Hey mortals!! I know this chapter is a bit short.... sorry....I have a news for you guys,I won't be writing or posting anything for the next one month as I have a lot to work on...... again, I apologise.

Taglist: @holdmytesseract @dishahaldar @lotsoflokilove23 @jennyggggrrr @imlokisgloriouspurpose

#loki #loki x reader #hiddlesarmy #professor hiddleston x reader #professor hiddleston #professor x student #tom hiddleston #loki mcu #loki x you #marvel loki #tom hiddelston loki #tom hiddleston x reader #tomhiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #twhiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader insert

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