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noona-clock · 4 years

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The Personal Trainer

Genre: Gym!AU

Pairing: Junhoe x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,395

Finally, after weeks of putting up with your older brother’s badgering, you caved. You relented to his persistent suggestions to sign up at the gym close to your apartment -- and not only that. You had signed up (and paid extra for) personal training.

You really had never been one to find any sort of exercise enjoyable. You hated getting sweaty, and you had yet to find any activity you actually wanted to do. Just thinking about going to the gym and running on a treadmill or doing strength training made you feel like whining. And hiding under your covers in bed. And sleeping for about a week.

It’s not your fault you were lazy! It’s just how you were! It’s who you were as a person, and now that you were well into adulthood, you had come to accept that about yourself.

But, apparently, your brother had not.

He claimed to be “concerned for your long-term health,” but you knew he really just couldn’t stand lazy people and wanted everyone he cared about to love working out just as much as he loved working out.

It would never happen, but you got irritated enough to give it a try.

So, here you were. Wearing brand new workout clothes and scanning your fresh, new membership card at the front desk of the gym.

“Excuse me?” you asked the gorgeous, young receptionist who looked worlds better in a spandex crop top than you ever could.

“Hmm?” she chirped, shifting her gaze up to you. “How can I help?”

“Where do I go for personal training?”

The girl stood up, a beaming, friendly smile tugging at her lips as she replied, “Right over there!” and pointed to a closed-off area to the side of the main exercise room.

“Thank you,” you murmured with a slight grin before heading over there.

“Have a great session!” she called out cheerfully after you.

...How could you be that cheerful working in a gym?

I mean, obviously, a lot of people could be. But you couldn’t imagine it. The only place at which you’d be that cheerful to work would be... like, a candy store. Or a coffee shop. Definitely something to do with food.

Anyway.

Your heart began to beat faster as you approached the personal training area, and you chewed the inside of your cheek when you realized your trainer -- whoever he or she was -- hadn’t shown up yet.

Then again, you were basically always early to anything and everything, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that you’d arrived before your trainer.

You let out a soft sigh as you set your bag and water bottle down next to the wall of the fairly small, roped-off area designated for personal training, and then you slid onto a bench to wait.

As the seconds ticked by, you found your gaze wandering out into the main area of the gym -- who didn’t love people watching? Especially when you were just sitting somewhere waiting for someone else to arrive.

To your slight surprise, the ellipticals and bikes and treadmills were not occupied solely by buff guys and fit ladies. There were definitely some of those, but you also saw a couple of -- truly no offense intended -- average people running and cycling their hearts out. There was even an older, gray-haired man speed-walking on a treadmill, and it brought a tiny smile to your face.

At the very least, it made you feel better that you didn’t seem to be the most unfit person here.

Just as you turned back around, you caught a glimpse of someone walking toward the personal training area.

...Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you could’ve sworn --

You shook your head quickly to dispel the thought.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Hey,” you heard a voice call out.

And it was a very familiar voice.

Indeed, the familiar voice of the person you thought for a split-second you’d seen in your peripheral vision walking over here.

...Great.

You stood, your heart jumping up into your throat as you turned to face...

Him.

Junhoe.

Your ex-boyfriend.

As soon as he saw you, Junhoe stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened slightly, but it was enough to be noticeable.

What -- was he -- I mean, was he also here for personal training or was he --

“Are you my trainer?” you blurted out. Your nerves were very obvious in your voice, and you scolded yourself for letting your anxiety show right now.

Junhoe’s mouth fell open, but it took him a few seconds to actually answer you.

“...Yeah.”

Wonderful.

So, he was a personal trainer now? After your break-up a couple of years ago, you hadn’t kept up with him on social media (but you still stalked his sister on Instagram kind of regularly... not that you would ever admit that out loud), so you hadn’t even known he’d quit his job at the music store.

Now that you thought about it, going from working at a music store to being a personal trainer was kind of an odd jump.

But that was Junhoe for you. He was predictable in some ways, but in many ways, he absolutely was not.

That was ultimately why you’d ended things with him. The romantic aspect of your relationship had been great -- more than great, actually, but Junhoe just hadn’t been stable enough for you. He was too spontaneous for your schedule-loving, plan-everything-within-an-inch-of-your-life self.

But, looking at him now...

Good god, was he handsome or what? He always had been and, apparently, he always would be.

“Ah,” you replied somewhat breathlessly, your nerves slowly sucking all the air from your lungs. “Well. I -- I guess I’m your new -- trainee... person... thing.”

At that, Junhoe’s expression relaxed, and an amused smile appeared on his lips.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he replied with a soft chuckle. He then stepped closer to you, his eyebrows raising just a smidge. “...How -- how are you?”

“I’m good -- doing well -- just fine,” you replied, inwardly cringing at how awkwardly you’d answered him. “Nothing much has changed, really. Same job, same apartment, same cat.”

You knew from your Instagram stalking escapades that things had changed more for him than they had for you since your break-up. He’d moved in with his sister at one point, and he had adopted the tiniest, fluffiest puppy you’d ever seen. And, apparently, he now had a different job.

“That’s great,” he said. The grin on his lips was genuine, and it kind of warmed your heart to see that he really did think it was great that your life hadn’t changed. He obviously remembered how greatly you valued stability and routine and structure.

You were about to ask him how he was doing (despite the fact you had a good idea based on his sister’s Instagram), but he clapped his hands together and said, “Well, we should probably get started” before you got the chance to.

“Right,” you murmured, feeling your heart jump again. You had been nervous about starting personal training before, but now that your ex-boyfriend was going to be your trainer...

Despite the fact this was your first ever personal training session -- and Junhoe knew this -- he didn’t go easy on you.

Maybe he was still bitter about your break-up and had made you work super hard because he wanted you to feel as much physical pain as he’d felt emotional pain a couple of years ago.

...Or.

And this is the most likely option.

Maybe he was just a tough and passionate trainer who didn’t believe in easy exercising.

(You kind of still wanted to believe he was still bitter, though.)

(But no one needs to know that.)

After the hour was up (though, you were hard-pressed to believe it had only been an hour), you found yourself lying on your back, staring up at the gym ceiling, and trying to catch your breath.

The workout had just ended, but already, every part of your body hurt.

“Good job,” Junhoe chuckled, holding his hand out to help you up.

You closed your eyes briefly because you really did not feel like getting up yet.

“Are you sure?” you panted. “It doesn’t feel like I did a good job. It feels like I did a horrible job.”

“No, no, you did good,” he assured you with one of his signature smirks -- you know, the same one that had been the first thing to make your stomach flip back when you’d met him. “Come on, let me help you up.”

Well. You had to get up some time, so it might as well be now. The sooner you left the gym, the sooner you got to take a hot bath with three pounds of Epsom salts sprinkled in the water.

Weakly, you lifted one hand, allowing Junhoe to grab it and hoist you up. You were basically dead weight because you were so exhausted, but he was able to pull you to a standing position all on his own. And quite easily, too. It was... pretty impressive.

Junhoe had certainly had a great body while he’d been your boyfriend, but you had no doubt his job as a personal trainer had only done good things to his physique.

...Mm, nope, better not think about his muscles. It’s not good to think about an ex-boyfriend’s muscles. Especially when that ex-boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

“See you Wednesday?” he asked casually once you were (basically) on your feet, referring to your next training session.

“Y--yeah,” you stammered. “Wednesday. Absolutely.”

There was a pause, and you were just about to turn and grab your bag... but then Junhoe broke the silence.

“Listen, I -- if you don’t want me to be your trainer, I can ask --”

“No, it’s fine,” you interrupted, though... to be quite honest... you weren’t really sure why you said that.

Was it fine?

I mean, sure, your session had gone pretty well. In terms of your interactions, at least. You had felt awkward at first, but you’d gotten used to it after a while, and Junhoe hadn’t acted at all like an ex-boyfriend -- only a trainer.

But... still.

Did you really want to see him three days a week? After not seeing him at all for about two years?

(Not seeing him at all in person, that is. You’d definitely seen him in pictures since, as we’ve established multiple times, you stalked his sister’s Instagram.)

But Junhoe’s lips had already curved into a smile at your reassurance, and you would feel too guilty if you took it back now and asked for another trainer.

“Okay,” he murmured through his grin. “Well, then. See you Wednesday.”

You just nodded before hoisting your bag over your shoulder and beginning to make your way out of the personal training area and into the gym -- limping slightly as you walked, mind you.

It felt like it took you about five hours to leave the gym, get to your car, get inside your car, drive home, walk up to your front door, go to your bathroom, and draw a bath.

And now that you were in the bath -- the hot water and scented Epsom salts relaxing your muscles like nothing ever had before in your entire life -- you were pretty sure you were going to stay in here for another five hours.

You tilted your head back, letting the base of your skull rest against the edge of the tub and closing your eyes. You breathed in the healing aroma of the salts and sighed with content.

Truly, there was nothing better after a long day than a nice, relaxing bath.

...Well, actually. A nice, relaxing bath with some music playing.

Opening your eyes and lifting your head, you reached out and stretched your arm to grab your phone nestled in your discarded clothes on the floor.

Just as you opened up your music app of choice, though, your ringtone cut through the silence and made you jump.

Your eyes narrowed when you saw your brother’s picture on the screen, but your heart was still racing with fright as you answered and pressed your phone to your ear.

“What?” you asked irritably. “You interrupted my Me Time.”

“How was the gym?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes because of course that’s why he was calling.

And you were just annoyed enough to be sassy about it.

“Well, my personal trainer ended up by my ex-boyfriend, so thanks for that.”

Your brother chuckled softly and said, “Junhoe? No way, what are the odds?”

“No matter the odds, it happened, and I’m blaming you.”

“No, no, no, Dear Sister. You will be thanking me when you have more energy and don’t get out of breath walking up two flights of stairs.”

“Okay, those were very long staircases!”

“You’re going back, right?”

You waited a few seconds... let out a long sigh... then replied, “I mean, I paid for two months of sessions. I don’t want to lose that money.”

“Was it super awkward?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. “At first. It got better once we were actually training, but... still. It’s not like I had a pleasant time.”

Your brother chuckled softly and said, “Hey, you never know. Maybe it’s fate.”

You quirked one brow. “...Fate? What?” you asked, entirely unamused.

“You never know!” he repeated in a singsong tone. “Good luck on your next session, keep me posted, okay?”

“Whatever,” you murmured, though you could feel a smirk tugging at one corner of your lips.

“Love you, Sis,” he teased (but you knew he really meant it).

“Love you, too, Bro,” you teased back (but you obviously really meant it).

As soon as the call ended, you tapped on the icon for your music app and pressed shuffle on your relaxing Jazz playlist.

After tossing your phone back onto your pile of clothes, you leaned your head against the edge of the tub again and closed your eyes.

The bath, although it was starting to cool already, and the ambient music were doing wonders to ease your aches -- both physical and mental.

But... your brother’s words kept ringing in your head, for some reason.

You never know.

Part 2

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yuzukult · 4 years

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try again, || jaehyun & reader

title: try again, pairing: jaehyun x reader genre: idol!au, angst-y (i guess) words: 2.1k prompt: you should know that I’m always on your side, please remember my answer is you. note: inspired by the song try again by d.ear & jaehyun... i tried with this one, but it got hard to finish because i forgot where i was going with it.... i guess you can call this a drabble???????? also i have not revised this my 5th time yet. lol i will probably edit this as time goes on

Every long-term relationship goes through the “humps.” There’s three separate occasions: the three year hump, five year hump, then lastly the seven year hump. Many people tackle these hurdles, some fortunate enough to win and survive, but some wistfully slip.

You and Jaehyun failed the three year hump.

The obstacle was inevitable and surviving these challenges with him as an idol, periodically on tour when part of these issues arise didn’t make it any easier. The three-year mark resulted in a mutually angry break-up, only lasting a few months before he came back to Seoul. Healed from the fall, you thought that you were strong enough to face him. It was a lie-- the moment that you saw his face, you fell in love all over again.

Getting back together was easy. The two of you even made a pact that this wouldn’t ever happen again, and preventing it would require more communication and effort. Jaehyun was your end-game, despite the struggles of dating a celebrity, and the feelings were reciprocated.

So when the fifth year was approaching, it was no surprise that you could even feel it in the air that something was different.

Coming home everyday wasn’t the same anymore. The house echoed with silence; his slippers by the door remained vacant incessantly, and his roar of laughter isn’t here to fill the rooms with warmth. Your phone doesn’t ring with a text from him asking if you had gotten home safely nowadays, and expectations for video calls have dropped to none.

Jaehyun doesn’t “come home” lately, or at least, your home, but when he does, it means arriving during the late hours of the night and leaving at the brink of dawn. The incandescent grin that stuck on his face that comes as a package with the dimples that indent his cheeks were absent from your life now. His scent hasn’t remained in the house for months, evidence to his missing presence.

Sleeping without him proved arduous. Your eyes begging for slumber but your mind wouldn’t rest with the negative thoughts that swarmed your head.

Then there was speculation amongst social media-- every possible platform, and your phone overflowed with text messages from those who were “close” to you were all of him with new arm candy, a new beau.

It’s two in the morning, and you’re fighting with your inner self on whether or not to call in sick to work tomorrow. Snatching the carton of milk in the fridge, you grab a mug settled in the cabinet before pouring yourself a drink. Placing it into the microwave and tapping a couple of the buttons on the screen, the humming of the appliance is the only sound that floods the room.

The doorknob of the front door rattles, and he comes in with newly dyed blue disheveled hair wearing his clothes from practice, dropping his duffle bag by the door and his keys thrown into the bowl on the entryway’s table. There was no greeting nor kiss as he immediately makes his way into the kitchen.

“She’s just a co-star. We’re filming a music video, and afterwards she said she was going to grab us all coffee, and I felt bad if she went alone. I mean, there’s ten of us.” His eyes hasn’t even looked directly at you, yet somehow he knew what was running through your head.

“I didn’t say anything.” You mutter, attention wavering to the beeping of the microwave.

“You didn’t have to.” He’s standing what feels like hundreds of meters away from you. The light in the room is dim, nearly as though it reads the tension in the atmosphere.

“She’s pretty,” You say before gripping onto the warm beverage before hissing at the impact of the hot ceramic against your fingertips.

“What are you insinuating?”

You’re silent for a moment. “Maybe it’s time we should talk about us.”

Jaehyun is the guy who doesn’t say much. He’s a level-headed person, soft spoken, and sensitive yet reserved, but capable of opening his heart. He’s the one you admire from afar with his breathtaking features, a radiant smile that can wipe an entire nation, with his popular group of friends, and friendly demeanor. Even when he’s trying his best not to shine in a sea of people, he’s under the spotlight. It’s impossible for Jung Jaehyun to be just a regular person.

But recently, his heart just doesn’t feel open to you. He didn’t seem to glisten in your gaze anymore.

“What’s wrong with us?” He precipitously makes his way behind you. You don’t recall hearing the creak of the hardwood floor underneath his feet; your heart skipping a beat when your back bumps into his chest abruptly.

“Talk to me.” You gulp. He’s so close-- and what it seems like have been forever since you’ve been even this intimate; the slightest touch from him sparks nostalgia. “What’s wrong with us?”

“You’re never here anymore.”

You can’t look at him, you just can’t. You shouldn’t, because just seeing his face might bring you to the brink of tears.

Your lives were so different. He was an idol with fans throwing themselves at his feet, and constantly inundated by a plethora of talent and beauty. His ambitions weren’t aligned to yours, and it’s a miracle that the relationship lasted this long. You had such an average life, working a 9-5 job, occasionally going out on weekends to meet up with friends, and spending the remaining free time by watching movies or shows. He was out in different countries, exploring continents you’ve never even been before, and meeting thousands of people almost weekly out on tour.

It didn’t help that the relationship was always a secret. There wasn’t initially any regret about it being hidden, but the insecurities eventually began to gnaw out your insides when swarms of beautiful women flirted so shamelessly with him in front of you when you’d previously gone out on discreet dates.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying to be here more. There’s a comeback soon, so the hours at work are endless.” His baritone voice vibrates in his chest against your frame, something all too familiar but hasn’t appeared in a while.

Attempting to be empathetic was easier said than done when you’re angry with someone. Turning your body around, your stare sticking to his upper torso, refraining from looking into his eyes. From your peripheral vision, he’s indisputably exhausted, dark circles residing below his eyes after removing the day’s make-up from photoshoots and filming and visibly slimmer. It isn’t a competition but you were tired too.

“If... this is taking too much of your time,” The words get caught in your throat. “Maybe we should... let this go.”

His breath hitches, taking a moment to absorb the words you’re saying albeit his heart feels like it’s shattering. “It’s not taking much of my time.”

“That’s the problem, you’re not using any of your time with this to begin with.” Practicing in front of your mirror countless times before, you thought you'd recited every possible outcome of the conversation and what you’d argue to every response he had. You were confident until standing in front of Jaehyun. It lessens your assurance on the break-up because everything about him weakens your knees.

Jaehyun pulls you in, wrapping his arms around your waist before dropping his head into the crook of your neck, pressing a warm, gentle kiss against your skin. He couldn’t face you either. “Don’t do this.”

“There’s so many women out there that are better,” You sigh, swallowing the tears. He’s too great of a guy but you’d come to terms that maybe he wasn’t for you. “Someone else who can treat you better. You can’t give me what I want.”

Grabbing your shoulders, he obligates you to look into his eyes as he knits his brows. “Those women aren’t you. Tell me what you want, I’ll do it.”

“Jaehyun, it doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t get what you mean. We’re talking about this and I’m trying to make it work.”

“That’s the other problem, I don’t want you to make it work anymore. You have to want this, do things willingly and not because I forced you to. It’s different now. I don’t think you love me the same way I do.”

He shakes his head. “You’re wrong,” his eyes are gradually brimming with tears, and you can almost hear the sound of your heart breaking, “I’ve always loved you, I never stopped.”

Jaehyun never cries. He’s all laughs and smiles but never manifestly melancholic. He was great at hiding it but never with you. Overtime, it felt as though the only mood he had was irritation and fatigue, and only his friends and fans were given the opportunity to see the beautiful side of Jaehyun. Seeing him unsteady with your decision made it difficult to leave. Even when the relationship fell apart the first time, he didn’t even seem like he cared. He wanted to portray himself as perfect-- and he was successful at it.

His hand reaches up to push a strand of your hair away from your face and moves it behind your ear. Cupping your cheeks, he leans in, his soft, plump lips capturing yours. He fit into you like the missing piece of a puzzle, and you craved for his touch. Your mind wanted to fight him, push him off and tell him that this was over with because you couldn’t take it anymore. With him pressed up on you against the kitchen counter, he’s the cause of your foggy head and you forget what your mind tells you to do.

Letting go, saliva strings between the two of you, but neither of you are bothered by it. His eyes held despair when they linked with yours, tugging you into his embrace. “These people that step into my life aren’t here for the mutual benefits. They’re all here for my name as a celebrity, they care about who I am only when it has to do with them. They expect me to be perfect all the time, and it’s tiring.” He takes a moment to take a deep breath, nuzzling his nose into your neck, inhaling in your scent.

“When I come home to you, you don’t expect me to be perfect. And I know you still don’t, you just wish I tried. You were never persistent about me being a certain way, and I took it for granted. I just thought you’d always be by my side.”

“You know that I’m always here for you.”

“And I took advantage of that,” He responds, and there’s a sudden wetness on your neck. “That’s my flaw and it’s my fault. I want to be better for you, please let me try again.”

The emotions from the past few months start flooding back, and anger fills your bloodstream, reality hitting you in the face. “What’s going to be different from before? It’ll all still be the same.”

“It won’t.” His voice is stern, and steady, removing you from his grasp. “Come to our showings, come to our concerts, our recordings. Let’s not hide this anymore.”

You choke on your spit. “What?”

Jaehyun’s expression doesn’t change; he’s serious about his idea. “I’m sorry it took me five years, but it’s long overdue. I don’t think I can lose you, you’re my rock. I need you here. Please, think about it.”

“What are you going to be doing on this lovely Friday night?” A co-worker of yours asks, reaching up to your desk an hour before you’d be released from your duties for the weekend.

“Honestly, not sure yet.”

She raises a brow, crossing her arms against her chest as she leans on the wall of the cubicle. “Hot boyfriend hasn’t had anything planned? If not, you should definitely come by to this new club that opened--”

“Sorry, she has plans.” Startled, the both of you turn your heads to the direction of the voice. Jaehyun’s standing in the walkway between the aisles of desks and cubicles that line up throughout the office, and you’re surprised he even finds yours. “Also, I’m not her boyfriend anymore. Didn’t she tell you, I’m her fiance.” He smiles cheekily, giving your coworker a glimpse of his dimples and raising the bouquet of flowers in his hand.

His hair is slicked back with gel, the blue dye washed out and a dirty blonde comes out from underneath. He has on a white button-up, a couple buttons undone, sleeves rolled up and shirt tucked in his black slacks. Jaehyun walks over to you, handing you the bouquet before bowing at your coworker. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude. It’s our anniversary today.”

“Anniversary?” She glances at you questioningly.

“Yes. Happy 7th Year Anniversary, love.”

#jaehyun #nct #nct127 #nct fics #nct fictions #nct127 fictions #nct 127 fictions #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #gyukultfics #ugh i'm embarrassed i wrote this #lol

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darlingandmreames · 4 years

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A Thousand Ways to Say It

(also on ao3)

Prompt: Love Languages (a bit of a loose take on it, but my brain latched onto Arthur telling Eames he loved him in ways other than outright saying it and just Ran With It, so here we are)

Summary: Arthur loved Eames. He knew that, and he tried to tell him in his own way. Just never in so many words. Or 5 times Arthur didn’t quite say “I love you”, and 1 time he didn’t need to

@arthureamesmonth

Arthur reloaded his clip and got off four shots before the incoming fire forced him to duck back down behind cover. They would've been fine, the mark's subconscious was only partially militarized so stealth would've been effective enough for them to do the job without any major resistance, but then the other extractor had managed to run directly into the mark. That'd been more than enough to alert his sub-security, and now they were stuck facing a load of gunfire on what should've been an easy job.

“This is why I hate working with amateurs."

Arthur nodded, glancing over at Eames. He had a few cuts, likely from flying glass, but thankfully seemed otherwise fine. "Issue is when you don't find out they're an amateur until after you start the job."

Eames let out a clipped laugh. "True." He raised up briefly, taking out two projections before dropping back down again. "Any idea where our lovely colleague is?"

"Probably dead."

Eames nodded. "You have any sort of plan? Because all I've got currently is 'try not to get shot'."

Arthur looked at his watch. Just over 15 minutes. That was more than enough time to get the information if they could get the mark's projections off their backs at least a little. Which, given the current state of things, was a pretty big if. He peered around the corner of the bench they were currently hiding behind. "How do you feel about our chances of making it to that hallway over there without getting shot?"

Eames followed his gaze, ducking back down just in time to avoid a bullet. "Questionable, but if we lay down enough covering fire we might be able to make it."

"I'll provide cover as we run." Arthur held a hand up to cut off the objection he knew was coming, flinching as a ricochet sent bits of stone flying in his face. "You're the dreamer. If I die it'll just be a little inconvenient. If you die the dream collapses and the job's fucked." He paused, taking advantage of the lull in incoming fire to take out another projection. "Once we get into the hallway and have more cover we'll split up. The projections will follow you while I find the safe and finish the job."

Eames grimaced. "I'm not a particular fan of this plan."

"Me neither. You ready?"

Eames nodded again, crouching. "On your go."

Arthur gripped his gun, body tense, and waited for another lull. It was slowing…slowing… "Now!"

He stuck close to Eames' back, providing a general round of fire as they started running. He switched to more focused bursts as the projections took cover, targeting whatever figure he saw first. Cover fire was only useful as long as he had ammo after all, no point in wasting it. The distance between where they'd been taking cover and where the hallway started was thankfully relatively short, and the return fire had only just started up in earnest when they reached it. Arthur turned and ran normally as soon as he was out of line of fire, keeping pace beside Eames as they ran down the hallway.

He stopped at the first intersection they came to, looking around the corner carefully in case it was being patrolled. The hallway was empty though, the only sounds coming from behind them. He turned to Eames, reloading. "You good to distract the projections?"

"Course."

"Eames." Eames had already started off down and hallway when Arthur called after him. He turned to look at him, confused. "Be careful."

Eames gave him a small smile, expression softening slightly. "You too."

Arthur nodded and turned, setting off down the other side of the hallway. "See you in 15 minutes."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur was already in bed by the time Eames got back to the hotel. He had been for a while. It'd been a long couple of days, waking up early and staying late to finish up his research, and it was starting to catch up to him. He could normally stay up until the early hours of the morning with no issue, but now it was barely 10pm and he was already having trouble keeping his eyes open.

Eames opened the door and slipped in quietly, looking at Arthur with surprise. "Figured you'd be asleep by the time I got in."

"Almost, but not quite." Arthur stretched out under the covers, trying to stifle a yawn. "Productive evening?"

"Very. Business dinners are always a great context to observe someone in." Eames took his jacket off and dug through his bag. "Guy's your average run of the mill slimy businessman. I could probably forge him in my sleep."

"Hm, we do work with quite a few of those, don't we?"

Eames grinned at him. "Practically our bread and butter."

Arthur went back to scrolling mindlessly through his phone as Eames disappeared into the bathroom. He'd spent the past hour half-heartedly reading through the news as he tried to stay awake, and that seemed like a good way to continue occupying his time until Eames had finished getting ready for bed.

"You heading into the workshop tomorrow?" Eames' voice drifted out of the bathroom over the sound of the sink.

"No, I was thinking of working in a cafe somewhere." He shrugged. "We're in Rome, I might as well take advantage of the quality espresso."

"You," Eames wandered back out, drying his face with a hand towel, "don't need espresso. You're sleep deprived enough as it is, you don't need to add more caffeine to the mix."

"I'll get a good night's sleep tonight, it'll be fine." Arthur sighed. "And I'll try not to drink more than four shots tomorrow. Sound fair?"

"I suppose." Eames pulled the covers back and climbed into bed, turning the lamp off as he did so. "Mind if I join you?"

Arthur smiled and moved closer. "You're just trying to make sure I don't overdo it on the espresso."

Eames laughed. "Maybe." He shifted, making space for Arthur as he nestled against his side. "Can't I just enjoy your company though?" Arthur hummed happily as he curled against Eames, not even bothering to reply. He could already feel sleep pulling at him as Eames' arm settled around his shoulders. Eames laughed again quietly, pulling him close. "You really are tired, aren't you?"

"Mm, a bit."

"Why did you stay up? You could've just gone to bed."

Arthur gave a small shrug as he started to drift off. "I sleep better next to you."

I love you.

XXX

“You’re okay.” Arthur brushed Eames’ hair back from his forehead, his other hand rubbing gentle circles on Eames’ back as he threw up. “You’re alright.”

Eames rarely got sick. He might get the occasional cold or bout of food poisoning if he wasn’t careful, but that was usually it. When he did get sick, though, it was bad. The sort of bad that knocked him out and put him out of commission for a week or two straight. Or, in this case, had him bent over the toilet throwing up for hours at a time for the third day in a row. They were supposed to be working a job right now, a quick and easy one extracting information from an old man on behalf of his estranged son, but Eames had come down with whatever the fuck he’d gotten on the the second day and that had put a quick end to their involvement. Well, to Eames’ involvement technically. But someone had to help take care of him until he was a bit more recovered because Arthur learned rather quickly that Eames would do a terrible job of it if left to his own devices.

Arthur filled a cup up with water and handed it to Eames once he seemed to have gotten through this round of throwing up. “Try and drink at least a little. Otherwise you’re going to get dehydrated.”

“‘M not going to be able to keep it down.”

“I know.” He crouched behind Eames, going back to rubbing his back gently. “But you should try to drink a bit anyways.” Eames managed to get half of it down before setting the cup of the floor and resting his head against his arm. Arthur moved the cup up onto the counter. “Do you think you’re going to be sick again soon?”

“Don’t think so, no.”

“Why don’t we head back to the bed then? That’ll be more comfortable than the bathroom floor.” Arthur helped Eames up slowly. He looked terrible, with dark circles under his eyes and his skin pale and clammy. Arthur remembered the first time he’d seen Eames properly sick; he’d been shocked by the change and had briefly and irrationally wondered if he was maybe dying. He’d gotten more used to the sight, as uncommon as it was, over the years, but he still felt a stab of concern each time.

Eames was curled against Arthur’s side as soon as they were back in bed, face pressed against Arthur’s t-shirt. That was the other thing he'd learned: when Eames was sick, wearing anything he actually liked was inadvisable at best and downright stupid at worst. So until Eames was more recovered it would be sweatpants and cheap t-shirts that he didn't have to worry about keeping clean and could just throw out when they invariably got something gross on them. Arthur could still feel the slight heat of Eames’ fever through the cloth, but it was far better than it had been the past few days. Hopefully it would break for good sometime this evening. He looked down as Eames muttered something, his voice too muffled to actually make out what he was saying. “Come again?”

He tilted his face up slightly. “Said you’re going to get sick too after this.”

“Maybe. I’ll be fine though.” Arthur ran his hand through Eames’ hair. He was, to be fair, absolutely right. There was almost no way he was getting out of this without catching whatever it was Eames had. When he got sick though it was usually far milder. He'd feel like shit for a few days, but nothing like what Eames was going through. “I don’t get sick like you do.”

“Still. You don’t have to stay.” Eames started to sit up unsteadily. “‘M fine.”

Arthur sighed. “Don’t be an idiot. I’m not going anywhere. Now lay back down." Eames was back against him almost immediately, arms around his waist. Arthur laughed quietly and went back to running his fingers through Eames' hair. Eames was quite affectionate to begin with, and when he got sick he was almost downright clingy. It was sweet, honestly. "Someone has to take care of you."

"I can take care of myself." Eames' voice was muffled again, but at least a bit more understandable.

"Not when you're sick, you can't."

"You had to drop the job though."

Arthur settled back against the pillows. "Well, it's not like either of us really needed the money. And it wasn't a particularly exciting one, so I doubt we're missing much." He was about to say something else when he felt Eames tense. Arthur gripped his shoulders and pushed him up; he knew all too well what that meant. "No no no no do not throw up in the bed."

It was close, but Eames managed to make it back to the bathroom in time. Arthur crouched behind him, rubbing Eames' back gently as his shoulders shook. He moved back and sat against the tile wall after a few minutes when Eames seemed to have finished throwing up, shifting so that Eames could lay between his legs, head resting on Arthur's chest. "Maybe it's best if we just stay in here for a bit."

Eames groaned, gripping his shirt tightly. "Sorry for making you do this."

"Don't be. I'm certainly not sorry for being here." Arthur wrapped his arms around Eames' shoulders, holding him close. "Let me take care of you."

I love you.

XXX

The fourth drink was, as were most things with Eames, both a wonderful and terrible idea. Arthur hadn't planned on getting drunk, in fact he'd planned on specifically not doing that, but Eames had asked if he wanted a second drink with a smile that had made it clear he was hoping the answer would be yes, and Arthur had never been very good at saying no to that smile. Two drinks turned into three and eventually into four and at some point Arthur had ended up back at Eames’ place, settled quite happily on his lap, the world warm and blurry around him. He wasn’t exactly sure when or how that had happened, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He leaned his head back against Eames’ shoulder. “If I’m hungover tomorrow I’m absolutely blaming you.”

“All I did was ask if you wanted another drink.” Arthur could see Eames grinning out of the corner of his eye. “You could’ve said no.”

“Not when you’re asking, I can’t.”

“Really?” Eames wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist, holding him close. Arthur moved with him easily. “I had no idea I had such an effect on you.”

Arthur laughed. “Yes you did.”

“Well, okay. I maybe had some idea.”

Arthur hummed contentedly in response, settling back against Eames’ chest. It was wonderful laying here like this. He knew he’d regret those extra drinks in the morning when he’d almost definitely wake up with at least a mild hangover and have to go back to working on the job, but right now he couldn’t think of anything better than sitting with Eames' arms around him, curled against him. Eames chuckled, leaning back against the arm of the couch. “You’re cute when you’re drunk, you know that?”

Arthur tried to cut off the giggle he could feel building up in his chest, but was only partially successful. “I’m not cute.”

“You get a couple of drinks in you and you start blushing and giggling and invariably end up on my lap like some sort of intoxicated cat. You,” Eames kissed his temple, “are an adorable drunk and you absolutely can’t convince me otherwise.”

“And what about you?” Arthur looked up. He tried to fix Eames with a serious glare but based on Eames’ grin he seemed to have failed. “You’re just as drunk as I am.”

“That’s true.” Eames raised an eyebrow. "You saying you think I'm also cute when I'm drunk?"

"No." Arthur frowned. That hadn't been what he'd been trying to say but, to be fair, he wasn't entirely sure what he had been trying to say. He searched for some sort of comeback. "You're always cute. Not just when you're drunk."

Eames stared at him for a moment, surprised, before laughing and pulling Arthur in close. "Shit, you really are drunk."

"Hm, maybe. You're still cute though." He slipped his hand into Eames', train of thought derailing slightly as Eames squeezed his hand back. "You have…you have this smile. It's not your normal one, you know, the polite one you use when you're trying to be nice or friendly. Your real one. The one you use when you're happy or something made you really laugh. Or sometimes you just look at me and suddenly that smile is there for no reason. Your entire face lights up and you…" He shrugged. He knew there were probably better words he was trying to find, but none of them seemed to be coming. "You're cute."

Eames ran his thumb over the back of Arthur's hand, tracing small circles. "Apparently you're a sentimental drunk too." His tone was teasing but even through the haze of alcohol Arthur could hear the fondness behind it.

"Shut up," he giggled.

"Never." Eames shifted and Arthur slid off his lap slightly and onto the couch beside him, draping his arm across Eames' stomach and nestling against his side. Eames kissed his forehead. "You're a cute, sappy, sentimental drunk and I refuse to ever let you forget it."

"I can't stand you, you know that?" Arthur buried his face against Eames' shirt as Eames laughed. It truly was wonderful laying here like this. It struck Arthur as Eames ran his fingers through his hair that he would be perfectly content to lay here in Eames' arms for the rest of his life. "Can't stand you in the least."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur had some strong opinions about Toronto's downtown architecture, most of them rather negative, but he'd always liked the train station. It was a classic building, with it's high, arched ceiling and wide open atrium, and Arthur may have gotten his start in extraction with strange and paradoxical architecture but he still appreciated a well made classic when he saw it.

He hated it now though. Being at the train station meant morning had come already and it was time for him and Eames to part ways. Again. Three days together after almost four months apart hadn't been nearly enough, but it was all they'd been able to manage. He leaned against Eames, trying to savour the feeling as best he could.

"Don't look so sad."

Arthur looked down, trying to hide his expression. He both loved and hated how easily Eames could read him. "I'm not sad."

"Yes you are." Eames chuckled and tilted his chin up. "You get sad every time we do this."

"I just don't like goodbyes, that's all." Arthur kept his gaze down, not looking at Eames. It felt childish but if Arthur looked at him he'd see the soft expression he knew was on Eames' face, and that would just make it worse. "I've never liked them."

"It's just a couple of weeks. A month at the most." Eames' hand was against his face and Arthur leaned into the touch, trying to commit the feeling to memory. "We've had longer goodbyes before."

"I know." Arthur reached out and adjusted Eames' collar, frowning slightly. Anything to occupy his attention. "Doesn't make it easier though." His hands drifted slowly down to Eames' waist, fiddling with the hem of his jacket. Finally Arthur looked up and met Eames' gaze. His chest hurt slightly as he saw Eames' expression; it was just as soft and gentle as he'd imagined. "I'll miss you."

Eames grinned at him. "Careful, or I might start to think you actually care about me."

Arthur frowned again. "Careful, or I might decide I don't."

"Empty threats, that's all you have." Eames' expression softened again, and he ran his thumb over Arthur's cheekbone. "I'll miss you too, darling. I always do." He looked up as an announcement echoed over the loudspeaker. "Well, I think that's you."

"Yeah, it is." Arthur looked back down, fingers still playing absentmindedly with the edge of Eames' jacket. He knew he needed to go, but he couldn't quite bring himself to pull away. Part of him was tempted not to. To stay here, miss his train, forget the job he was supposed to start tomorrow. To not say goodbye. Not again. He was tired of that, tired of weeks, of months, apart. But that was their life. Maybe it wouldn’t be one day- he hoped it wouldn’t be one day- but for now it was. After a moment he sighed. "Be safe?"

"Always." Eames kissed his cheek before pulling away. "I'll see you around, love."

"Yeah." Arthur gave him a small smile that he knew was laced with sadness. "See you around."

I love you.

XXX

Arthur was pissed.

Well, not really. He was worried. Eames had been gone for over an hour. Which wouldn’t be concerning under normal circumstances, but it most certainly fucking was when they had people trying to kill them. They’d been laying low in a safehouse Eames had used in Amsterdam previously for the past few days without any issues, but the client who’d put the hit out in the first place had deep pockets and access to resources. Arthur doubted three days was enough for things to be even remotely safe again.

They’d needed food though. There hadn’t been much in the safehouse when they’d gotten there, and it hadn’t been long before they’d worked through most of what was there. Arthur had tried to insist on going but Eames had pointed out that his Dutch was better and they needed to attract as little attention as possible right now. Arthur had begrudgingly agreed; he knew Eames was right, but that hadn’t done anything to calm the discomfort in his chest as Eames had closed the door to the rundown apartment behind him or tamp down on the restlessness that had made him start pacing back and forth in the small space as the minutes ticked by.

By the time an hour had passed Arthur was well and properly anxious. There was a store nearby, it shouldn’t have taken Eames this long to pick up enough food to last them another few days. Unless something had gone wrong. Unless he’d been made. Been captured. Been killed. Their client had a reputation and Arthur had met men like him before, men who were vengeful and violent and cruel; he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he got his hands on Eames. Couldn’t think about it. His mind wouldn’t leave it alone though, running through the possibilities. Of how Eames might’ve been killed. Of what might happen to him if they had taken him alive.

So Arthur wasn’t angry. Not really. But anger was easier than the worry and anxiety that was gnawing at him so he focused on that instead, letting it build until he could almost ignore the growing fear that something had happened. Not quite, but almost.

He stopped in his tracks, hand dropping to his gun as the door lock turned, tense and alert. He relaxed as he caught a glimpse of god awful but familiar paisley though, and a moment later Eames was in the apartment closing and locking the door behind him. “Well, we won’t be eating great, but we should be-”

The relief didn't last long, anger flaring in Arthur's chest. “Where the fuck have you been?!”

Eames blinked, clearly surprised by Arthur’s tone. It was admittedly a little harsher than he’d intended, but not by much. He gave Arthur a confused look. “I went to the store, darling. Thought we’d already discussed that.”

“The store is three blocks away. You’ve been gone over an hour!” Arthur tried to take a deep breath but couldn’t quite seem to manage to get a full one. “It shouldn’t have taken that long!”

“The line at the store was long and then I thought I might’ve had a tail so I-”

“A tail?!” Arthur wasn’t quite yelling, raised voices attracted attention and they very much did not need that right now, but it was getting harder to control his volume. “How careless were you?!”

Eames set the bags he was carrying on the floor with a frown. “Arthur, calm down, I wasn’t-”

“No, I’m not going to fucking calm down.” It was harder to take a breath now and he knew he was getting louder despite his best efforts to stay at a normal speaking volume. “You could’ve been killed, Eames, you can’t be this careless! You can’t…”

“Arthur.” Eames’ voice was quiet but firm as he took Arthur’s hands. “It’s alright. I’m alright. Just breathe.”

Arthur gripped Eames’ hands, trying to take a deep breath again. The anger drained out of him as quickly as it had flared up, leaving him feeling shaky and unsteady. “I just…you were gone for so long and I…”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Eames pulled him into a hug and Arthur leaned into the touch gratefully. “I didn’t mean to worry you."

Breathing was a little easier with Eames' arms around him, the pressure grounding him. Still a bit shaky, but easier. "I kept thinking something had happened." He relaxed slightly, the solid feeling of Eames against him helping dissipate some of the anxiety in his chest. "Sorry I got…worked up. I just…I worry sometimes. About you."

"It's alright." Eames pulled back just enough to kiss Arthur's cheek. "I love you too."

Arthur blinked at the words, surprised, before smiling slightly. He'd known how he felt for a while, but he'd never said it out loud. He hadn't known how. Leave it to Eames to figure it out anyways though. He buried his face in the crook of Eames' neck, a gentle warmth replacing some of his worry. "Am I really that easy to read?"

Eames laughed quietly. "Absolutely."

“I do, you know.” Arthur pulled back and looked at Eames with a serious expression. “Love you. I mean it.”

"I know, darling. I've known for a while.” Eames kissed him gently. “And I mean it when I say I love you too.” He smiled. "Now what do you say we eat something? Like I said, it won't be the best meal ever, but it'll be better than the stale crackers we've been eating the past few days."

Arthur smiled back. The anxiety in his chest hadn’t fully disappeared, but it was far better now, and Arthur knew it would be gone soon enough. It was alright. Eames was alright. "Sounds good to me."

#arthur x eames #arthur/eames #dream husbands #arthureamesmonth2020 #dreamhusbands #inception #local trash goblin writes stuff

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jetsetlife138 · 4 years

Text

Imaginary - Chapter 6

Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Summary: A mysterious device throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. Pentagram City’s residents are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Warnings: Manipulation, Language, Awkward Situations

Previous Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen @chasingfireflies1999 @galaxy-meteor @cecidit-31 @shadowclawstudio88 @utterly-disappointing @opheliuva @trinswhimsys @skylarhedges @whogavebrynjolfpermissiontobehot @sailor-earth-1

After your tiff with Alastor, you stomped off to seek the solitude of your own room. Dealing with him was infuriating and confusing. He had a way about him where even though you couldn’t stand him, you sometimes found yourself craving his company.

Maybe you were a masochist. That would make the most sense for why you were so fucked up and had weird, conflicting feelings about the arrogant demon.

The next day when you returned to the library, you were not at all surprised to see Alastor there waiting for you. Before you could even negatively comment on his presence, he held his hands up in surrender. “My dear, I owe you the sincerest of apologies. My behavior has been abysmal, and I am quite ashamed.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicious of his sudden change of heart. His grin widened at your hesitance. “I’ll admit, I’ve gotten carried away during our prior interactions. Let me assure you, I only have the best of intentions. I would like us to be comrades. After all, as previously established, we can help each other. I am still dedicated to helping you return to your world.”

“Whatever, Alastor,” you brushed him off, pinching the bridge of your nose, your patience lacking. “I really don’t have the mental capacity for this right now. Just… keep your pervy hands and weird opinions to yourself. That’s all I ask.”

His lips peeled back further to make his already creepy grin look even more sinister. “Of course, my dear. As you wish.”

You weren’t stupid. You’d be a fool to think that he was being genuine, but at the same time, he was one of the most powerful beings in Hell. As you had already concluded, it couldn’t hurt to let someone like that help you, even if he had selfish intentions. It was just a matter of not falling victim to his advances.

Yet again, the two of you hit the books, making yourselves comfortable on the couch. Much to your relief, he stayed on the opposite end rather than crowd you with his overbearing presence. Instead, he kept to himself, humming softly as he skimmed through the pages of the books, seemingly content with the tedious task of research.

After intricately combing through five different books on magical travel, your eyelids started to get heavier, no longer able to concentrate. Not long after, you found yourself dozing off, your limbs going slack as you unintentionally slid down on the couch until you were met with a cushioned surface, enabling you to soundly fall asleep.

It wasn’t clear how much time had passed. It could have been merely a few minutes, or several hours. Either way, you were extremely comfortable and didn’t feel like moving.

Unfortunately, a voice nearby caused you to stir, interrupting your glorious nap. “Al, you soft son of a bitch.”

“Good evening, Husker. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Alastor’s voice sounded odd. Deeper and strangely close by, whereas Husk was clearly speaking from another part of the room. Still, even knowing that others were present, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes, the allure of sleep keeping you content.

“How long you been sitting here like this?” the cat demon snickered.

“Oh, it’s difficult to say,” Alastor sighed candidly. “To be frank, my friend, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation.”

Husk’s deep laughter echoed softly throughout the library. “So your aggressive approach didn’t pan out, huh? What a surprise. Always knew your bark was worse than your bite. Now you’re just a teddy bear.”

“Is there a reason for your visit? If so, I do wish that you’d just get on with it. I do not enjoy being mocked.”

“Settle down,” Husk prompted. “I’m not here to ruffle your feathers. I was coming to relieve you and help out the girl with research, but seeing as you’re so comfortable, I guess I’ll just be on my way.”

“Do not leave me here,” the Radio Demon warned, the static in his voice thickening with subtle rage. “Do something. Now.”

“You’ve slayed Overlords. You can’t manage to push a weak human off of your shoulder?”

“Husker.”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, sensing Alastor’s tone. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

A firm pressure on your shoulder followed by an abrupt shake quickly alerted you to the situation that you were in. Eyes fluttering open, you tilted your head back to see that you had been pressed up against Alastor, using his body as a pillow.

You immediately shot up, giving yourself a head-rush as you did so. “Oh… Uh, Alastor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

At a loss for words, you felt your cheeks reddening with embarrassment as you glanced at Husk who had an amused expression on his face.

Quickly rising from the couch and stretching his limbs, Alastor brushed off your apology. “Think nothing of it, my dear. I am glad to be of assistance, and I hope that you are now fully rested.”

Okay, what the hell? Who was this new Alastor? He went from being perverted and possessive to kind and charming? No, something was off. There was no way that his personality could have changed so dramatically overnight, but now was not the time to interrogate him about it.

“Yeah, uh, much better. Thanks. I’m… going to go take a shower,” you muttered, trying to find any reason to leave the library immediately.

Before either Alastor or Husk had a chance to respond, you practically sprinted out the door and ran for your room where you plopped face-down on the bed and released a muffled groan. You were slightly convinced that you were dying of embarrassment and that was the real reason you were trapped in Hell.

Sighing heavily, you eventually got up and took a cold shower, washing away the essence of Alastor that might have clung to you when you laid on him. Shortly after, you dried off and walked back to your room, shocked to find Charlie and Vaggie waiting for you with concerned expressions.

“Um, hey?” you greeted nervously. “What’s up?”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes and scoffed while Charlie took a more delicate approach. “So, listen… we’re so glad to hear that you’re becoming more and more comfortable here, but…” she trailed off, not sure how to proceed and turning to her girlfriend for help.

Crossing her arms, Vaggie stated bluntly, “Don’t hook up with Alastor.”

Mouth agape, you struggled to find the words to convey your bewilderment. “Um, I’m sorry, what ? Why the hell would you say that? I have no intention of spending more time with him than necessary, let alone that .”

Rolling her eyes, Vaggie countered, “Look, it’s no secret that he’s taken a liking to you. He’s a determined little shit and he will try to charm his way into your good graces. His whole persona is based on his ability to manipulate. It’s just better to not get involved with him. If I had it my way, he wouldn’t even be allowed in the hotel, but what’s done is done.”

“Okay? What exactly does that have to do with me hooking up with him? You don’t think I have more restraint than that?” you questioned, still unsure as to why they were upset.

Charlie interjected again, easing the tension. “We’ve seen you with him and things seem to be getting very… friendly. Husk told us you slept with him…” Ugh, it was like Angel’s prior accusations all over again.

“ On him,” you clarified defensively. “We were doing more research and I passed out on his shoulder! That’s it! Listen, I don’t trust him any more than you do. You don’t need to lecture me about staying on guard. That’s all I’ve been doing since I arrived here.”

Charlie bit her lip and gave you an apologetic look while Vaggie’s expression softened a little. “We didn’t mean to ambush you,” Charlie added. “We just wanted to make sure that you were okay and that he wasn’t forcing you into anything. We’re still getting to know him ourselves.”

“No, it’s fine,” you replied, waving your hand dismissively. “I get it, and I appreciate it. I didn’t mean to come off as bitchy, I’m just… stressed, I guess.”

“Understandable,” Vaggie chimed in, no longer appearing as hostile as she did a minute ago. “We’re still looking for answers on how to get you back to your world, and I can only imagine how terrifying and crazy this has been for you, but we want to make sure that your head is in the right place. Stay away from Alastor.”

“You called, little moth?”

Turning towards the entryway, Alastor stood proudly, twirling his staff nonchalantly in his hands.

Growling, Vaggie snarled, “Do you really have to be here all the time? Don’t you have somewhere else to be? A seedy back alley, perhaps? Busying yourself with souls to torment?”

“Ha!” he exclaimed, amused by Vaggie’s unwavering disdain for him. “Darling girl, this is where my priorities lie for the time being. Fear not, I have no intention of interjecting into what I’m sure is a very fascinating conversation.”

“Then why are you here?” she snapped, flexing her fingers angrily like she was trying to hold back from choking him.

Widening his permanent grin, he turned his attention to Charlie before replying cooly, “It appears you have a visitor.”

“Me?” Charlie asked, perplexed.

“Yes, my dear,” he confirmed, resting on his staff that he had stopped fiddling with. “Your guest is waiting for you in the parlor.”

The three of you began to head towards the door to see who had arrived, but Alastor whipped his staff out in front of you, preventing you from going any further.

“No, no, no, darling. Not you.” Charlie and Vaggie didn’t seem to notice as they continued out of the room, leaving you alone with the Radio Demon.

Eyeing him skeptically, you asked, “Why not?”

He almost looked… nervous? You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but it was an uncharacteristic look for him. Though his smile remained, his demeanor wasn’t his usual arrogant and unbothered self. “Believe me when I say that it is in your best interest to remain here.”

Worrying your lip, you replied, “Alastor, I really don’t think that it’s a good idea for you and I to be alone together anymore.”

Tiling his head to convey his confusion, he asked, “Oh? And why is that?”

Swallowing thickly, you muttered, “I-I just… um… people are starting to think--”

Before you could finish your thought, an unfamiliar voice was drawing nearer, distracting you.

“...permission to enter my own hotel? Foolish daughter. You may work here, but this hotel is mine, as is everything else in Pride Ring. Now, where is our exotic guest?”

Though he was playing it off well, you noticed how Alastor went rigid as the voice got closer. Listening more intently, you could hear multiple sets of footsteps along with Charlie begging, “No! Dad, please just listen to me! Don’t--”

Not a moment later, a strange, yellow-eyed demon burst through the door, beaming right at you, followed by a very nervous Charlie. Vaggie was nowhere to be seen.

The excited demon was taller than you, though not as tall as Alastor. He was as pale as Charlie with similar rosey cheeks and blonde hair. He was adorned with a white and red tuxedo with dress pants and a cane with an apple on the end. His toothy smile was just as wicked as Alastor’s, and left you with a queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah, there you are. Look at you!” he proclaimed before surging forward and taking your hands in his, pulling you harshly towards him.

You stumbled forward, tripping on your own feet but managing to find your balance before he danced around you, inspecting you closely. Quirking a brow at him, you weren’t keen on the idea of someone looking you over so intimately.

Catching you off-guard, he suddenly reached forward and cupped your face with his hands as he ran his thumbs across your cheeks. Instinctually, you smacked his hands away, just as you had done previously with Alastor. “Seriously? What is it with you demons and lack of personal space?” you snapped, now seething with irritation.

He stood back, clearly surprised by your tenaciousness. “Feisty, aren’t we?” he chuckled, fiddling with his bow tie before straightening his posture. “Oh, we’re going to get along just fine. I can see that.”

“I’m sorry,” you replied with exasperation. “Who are you?”

Smiling wider, he answered, “I’m Lucifer, the King of Hell, my delectable little human. And you’re coming with me.”

#hazbn hotel #alastor #radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #charlie magne #vaggie #husk #hazbin husk #the radio demon #imaginary fanfiction

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rapunzel-withthegoodhair · 3 years

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everythingsheclaimed asked you: Top 5 Daimon Helstrom moments :)

PUT “TOP 5” ANYTHING IN MY ASK AND I WILL ANSWER OK GO

Top 5 Daimon Helstrom moments...according to CJ Wingrave

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The air across Portland shifts firmly, as if a warm front just pushed its way in across the frigid morning cold. Not slowly, but all at once. For a moment, the friction crackles in the air. As Daimon glances up from his office desk, a flash of lightning splices through the campus. Roaring thunder soon follows and the rain that he wouldn’t know how to live without begins to splash heavily across the windows.

Storms in the pacific northwest aren’t unusual. On average, it rains 164 days out of every year in Portland alone. But it wasn’t supposed to today. Just moments ago, the sky was clear.

Across campus, students are already chattering about how typical it is for Oregon to flip moods on a dime. But Daimon knows the truth. The change in energy across the city is undeniable.

After seven whole months...CJ is back.

~~~

The circle of candles in her room flickers to life just as her body appears within it. Rings of salt and iron guard the flames, ensuring nothing crosses over with the young witch. Blonde hair covers her face and for a few long moments, CJ just lays on the hardwood. Every muscle feels like rusted metal. As if her body was burned to ashes and then baked back together all over again.

It’s never The Fade itself that fucks with her. It’s the process of travelling between dimensions. The process of ripping open the dense fabric of space-time and shoving herself through. It’s gotten a bit easier over the years. But her body is still made of simpler things than magic. Flesh and blood and bone is never meant for a thousand rebirths in one life.

Everything inside of her wants to get up and stagger towards her phone right this very moment. But there’s simply no way. She needs rest.

Eleven hours later, she wakes with a start. The candles have burned themselves out. And her mind is narrowed to one thought: Daimon.

Her legs wobble like jelly beneath her as she leans heavily against her queen-sized bed. All she wants is a shower and some food and him.

He answers on the first ring (he always does, for her). Sitting in his home office grading papers, he’d been fighting to focus on anything that wasn’t her return home.

“How long was I gone?” She can never tell. CJ can’t stand to be away from Daimon for longer than a week. But traveling through the fabric of space-time warps everything. The farther she travels between dimensions, the longer she’s gone, even if it only feels like a few days for her.

Immediately his laptop is closed. Rubbing at his tired eyes, Daimon pushes himself up. His spine screams in protest, neck stiff from staring down at a computer screen all day. Wincing, he pushes stubbornly through the pain.

“Seven months.” The words are heavy. With relief. With exhaustion. He’d wait the rest of his life to see her again if he had to. But damn if the waiting doesn’t take its toll. After all, abandonment was all he really knew before her. “Can I come see you?”

The rain that began earlier begins to pound harder outside. Tugging his coat on, he grabs his keys without even looking for an umbrella. Nothing can keep him out of her gravitational pull. Even if she says no he’d be content to sleep in his car in the looming shadow of her apartment building. To feel what tiny seeds of her energy he can soak up now that she’s back in his atmosphere.

“Yeah…” Gripping the doorframe to her bathroom, CJ barely makes it to the bathtub without injury. Their connection is so intense, she swears she can feel him all over her already. Strong chest pressed to the skin of her back. His delicate fingers tracing her throat. His cold nose along the back of her ear, drinking in the milk and honey scent that lingers strong after a trip to The Fade. “Yeah, I need you.”

For the first time in seven months, a smile pulls at his stoney features and light flickers back into his stormy blue eyes.

II.

She appears without warning.

One moment, the classroom desk in the far corner of the back row is empty. Next, CJ is soaking in the beam of sunlight falling through the windows. Sunlight is hard to come by in Portland. But CJ likes to play with the weather to fit her mood. Apparently, she’s feeling bright today. Playful.

Eyes falling on her for just a moment, Daimon doesn’t allow his lecture to skip a beat. Though a tiny smirk tugs at his mouth.

“The Greeks believed that goodness and beauty were interwoven. They were inextricable. And hey, maybe they were right. Isn’t beauty just chaos given order? Isn’t order what allows us to survive?”

“Or maybe that’s just what we tell ourselves to justify hitting on the same girl every one else is eyeing at the bar.”

The class turns to glance at her. No one has the spine to ask where the hell she came from or what her name is. But they’re all thinking it. Particularly the boys.

Arching an eyebrow, Daimon’s posture straightens slightly. He pushes away from his desk, eyes locked on her own as he responds carefully. Few students have ever dared to interrupt him during lectures. If she were anyone else, they’d be sorry for trying. But CJ’s mischievous side is his greatest weakness.

“It’s interesting...we’re always so arrogant to assume beauty is about us. Isn’t...a neatly pruned orchard beautiful? A well built house?” Glancing casually across the sea of students, he shrugs. “Do we not crave order? Is this not what keeps us alive?”

“Keeps us alive for what? If not to enjoy the chaos of passion. If beauty is the key to passion, how does the argument stand? How can beauty be both order and bring chaos at the same time?” A smirk twitches over her pretty mouth, eyes dancing with his as their mental waltz dizzies the rest of the class.

For a moment, Daimon allows her words to hang in the air. He mulls them over, then ultimately shrugs.

“Clearly Miss Wingrave isn’t Greek.” A low rumble of laughter disperses the tension in the room and the two of them exchange amused smiles.

After class, she waits patiently for the other girls to finish coming up with excuses to talk to him. Stupid questions and cliché compliments, their bouncy curls twisted around manicured fingers as they giggle while he isn’t even trying to be funny. But his eyes have trouble staying away from the long legs CJ has crossed at the knees while perched on a desk in the front row. He can feel her eyes dragging over his skin, as hungry as her teeth when they’re in bed.

With a flick of her wrist, the door locks behind the last girl to leave.

He closes the space between them with purposeful steps, slowly tugging her thighs apart so as to stand between them. Cold hands hooking under her knees, he pulls her closer. Nuzzles over her forehead, into the warmth of her hair.

“You’re a brat.” His words are a breathy laugh against her skin as a gentle kiss is dropped to hairline. Feeling her this close is to him, the same sort of relief a morphine addict feels as they finally get a needle to the arm. “And you’re so full of shit. I know you don’t believe a word you said.”

“Of course, I do.” Smirking softly, her fingers brush through his short hair, then down his shoulder. “I’m my own best evidence that beautiful doesn’t always mean good.”

“You’re plenty good.” He shakes his head in disbelief, amusement twitching at his lips. Slowly his fingers tug her ponytail undone so he can have the luxury of feeling her long, silky hair fill the spaces between his fingers.

“Only to you.” She has to admit, she’s softer with him. Softer than she even knew she could be. Anyone who only saw the side of her that Daimon brings out would never guess what she gets up to in The Fade. Or how rebelliously outspoken and impatiently abrupt she can be here.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs through a soft mumble over her skin, nuzzling into her neck, searching out the pocket of warmth there. “You can be a little bit of a monster. Like when you apparate into my classroom mid-lecture just to interrupt me.”

His words pull a laugh out of the girl as she drags a hand up and down along his spine. “I just like to watch you teach. It’s what I miss the most when I’m gone.”

Carefully, Daimon untangles himself to pull back. His brows knit together in a disbelieving (and slightly offended) look. He works hard to keep her satisfied in bed. Very hard.

CJ’s head tips back as she gives up a theatrical sigh. “Okay, the second most.”

“Better.” Playfully nipping at her lower lip, he gently curls his fingers into her hair and tugs just firmly enough to fit their mouths together in a deep kiss.

III.

It’s late when he knocks at her door. But CJ feels him the moment he enters her apartment building. His energy is low, dialed down with exhaustion after a night spent fighting and ultimately descending a particularly nasty demon. But the connection between them is like a tethered cord. The slightest tug always ripples through her body.

Reaching up on her toes, she pulls him into a warm hug. His body is colder than usual in her arms as it fights to heal from expending so much energy. She loves Louise, but this bullshit is going to get him killed. Why the woman insists her replacement be a powerless human so completely out of touch with their world of witchcraft and demonology, CJ will never understand. She’d be lying if she said being passed over for the position hadn’t stung. Though in fairness to the older woman, she’d never given Louise much reason to hope that Daimon could always rely on her presence in this realm. A month or two at home and CJ is always back to flitting between worlds.

Pushing the troubling reminder of Gabriella away, her thoughts narrow to the simple task of making him tea. She turns to head into the kitchen and Daimon trails after her quietly, like a stray puppy in want of a home.

She cups his cheek as they stand by the stove, dragging in a slow deep breath while waiting for the kettle to warm. There are fresh lines on his face, a map of all the stress he keeps balanced on his shoulders. Guilt tries to knock at her heart. If you wouldn’t leave him to bear the earth alone like Atlas, maybe it wouldn’t weigh so much. But she knows it’s bullshit.

She loves him. But she can’t cure Victoria or bring Ana home or turn back time on what his father did to him. Worse than any of these, she’ll never convince Louise to send Gabriella back to The Vatican. Tracing the pad of her thumb over the dark circles beneath his left eye, her features soften.

“You need sleep, baby.”

A wrinkle finds his nose. He can’t stomach the thought of wasting time sleeping while she’s home. When she may leave again tomorrow and take ten months to return. Or ten years. Or ten centuries.

“I’ll sleep when you’re gone.” His voice is soft and stubborn, but so vulnerable. The cold tip of his nose nudges into her shoulder as he curls against her. CJ’s slender arms wrap around his larger body and she tries so hard to push away the guilt his words dredge up. She tries to just hold him and love him and be here and let that be enough.

IV.

She’s the only one who ever gets his coffee order right. Double brewed, black with cinnamon stirred in.

When he comes back to his office after class and finds the cup of Starbucks waiting on his desk next to a wax paper bag of fresh apple fritters, he knows she’s gone again.

Leaving gifts behind like Santa is the only way she knows to stomach a goodbye. She’s never looked him in his eyes and said it. He almost wishes she would, even though he knows it would rip his heart out to hear the words aloud. At least he’d be able to see her eyes and know without a doubt that leaving hurts her too.

The water around them swirls with CBD oil, hot enough to steam up the windows of her bathroom. Her clawfoot tub easily fits both of them and a smile pulls at his mouth as he rests back against her. No one else ever lets him be the little spoon and it never fails to take the weight off of his shoulders in seconds.

Slowly, CJ scoops up handfuls of warm water, pouring each one down over his shoulders and chest. She rubs the back of his neck carefully, thumb massaging at the tight muscles there. The candles lighting up the room flicker lightly as she pulses healing magic through his skin and down into his bones. He’s not even injured right now, and even if he were, his demon blood allows him to heal faster than her magic could ever knit muscle tissue.

But he hasn’t been able to reach Victoria in over a month and he’s broken from the effort. She can feel it hanging heavy in his skin, making each breath feel like he’s trying to kick to the surface with rocks tied to his ankles.

He’s tired of being alone. He’s tired of shouldering Victoria’s demons alone. He’s tired of fighting demons alone. He’s tired of dealing with family trauma that isn’t his cross to bear alone (since Gabriella seems to think it’s morally abject of him to turn those he’s helped over to her for counseling). And he’s tired of waking up in an empty bed, alone.

Brushing a hand along her thigh, he tries to find the words. To beg her to stay. To convince her that he needs her more than any Fae or Spirit or Goddess.

Carefully, he drags in a breath, summoning his courage.

“I’m going to stay.” Her words are soft but clear. “I want to stay here, with you. If you’ll have me. If you promise you won't grow sick of me.”

Her arm wraps across his shoulders and she holds him close.

“Careful...” Slowly, a tiny smile tugs at his mouth. “ I may not let you go again. Ever.”

He’s trying so hard not to have real hope. He trusts CJ with every fiber of his being. To catch him when he falls. To fight on his side. To hold her ground when hell comes knocking. But the part of him that’s been left behind too many times is never sure if this is the last time she’ll come home. Still, he wants to believe it so badly it aches in his bones.

“Good…” She smiles into his neck, pressing a soft kiss there, words down to a whisper. “I won’t let you go again either.”

#daimon helstrom #daimon helstrom fic #helstrom #c: cj wingrave #my writing.#my graphics.

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

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Miss Missing You (Life Update)

Ahem yes that’s the title of this post

Boy am I tired and exhausted being awake since 5 am on 5 hours of sleep

Hello~🥰 all my lovelies who are still awake and chugging along out in this world that’s slowly descending into the depths of hell (it’s ok guys, just a little more than 3 months and it’ll be over...hopefully). I hope you’ve all been well, taking care of yourselves, drinking lots of water, and reminding yourself how amazing and wonderful you are and why you deserve to wake up every morning. And if you started school again, stay safe and good luck, I know you can do it, push through this

Before I say anything, I wanna say hi and welcome to the - holy crap - 300 more followers I’ve gotten since I started being inactive. I have no idea how you found this blog since it’s been radio silence, but thank you~ Enjoy your stay~

Also just a casual shout out to @mister-future for the reblog spam a few days ago, thank you so much dear 😘

Aaaaand I’m plugging a few events from my Discord server, POC Week that just wrapped up and a new Fantasy Week event where they’re still looking for a few writers to join in, so go check those out if you’re interested~ Sadly I won’t be participating, but I give all my love and support for both so please show them some love too.

Now you’re probably wondering or not “Chibi, where have you been?! It’s been nearly a month! You promised us Kiss of Death part 2!”

Well...see... the thing is... I don’t think I’ll be writing part 2... Hold the rotten tomatoes, let me finish!

Some of you might’ve seen from one of the last tag posts I did, but I never really made a formal announcement for this and I was meaning to do one early a month ago but life caught up to me and here we are. It’s not that big of a deal or anything, I’m not dying, I’m not moving, nothing like that. What I’m trying to say is in August I started PA school, which is basically about 70% of med school crammed into 2 years. Nonstop, no long breaks, even taking classes during summer. And as you can imagine, it’s a lot of work. Many times, my schedule has me up at 5 am, class at 7 until 3, I come home, study, eat, study, shower, wind down for 30 min or so and then sleep. On average, I sleep for ~6 hours a night and the entire rest of my day I’m studying. My only break days are Friday and Saturday, and Sunday I have to play catch up from the week and review/study. I have at least 1-2 exams every single week.

What I’m trying to say is it’s a lot, it’s a commitment I decided to take where I trade my social life and maybe my mental stability for 2 years and get a hopefully secure medical job with a nice salary and never have to go to school again. I thought I’d have time at least on the weekends to write as a mental break, but most of my Saturdays are spent taking half-day long naps. I didn’t anticipate that the mental and physical toll it would take on me would be this much. Today I was lucky to have class finish early and I finished my allotted studying early enough for me to make up for my lost sleep (I’m tired right now, can’t you tell how by how much I’m rambling? lol), but I told myself, “If you don’t write this now, you’re never gonna get to it again.” So here I am~ Running on fumes and almost falling asleep at my keyboard because I know I owe you an explanation.

Point is, writing isn’t really in my agenda right now. It can’t fit in my irregular, constantly-changing-yet-consistently-stressful PA school schedule. I wish I had the energy to pull myself together and give you guys something once a week, but my body and my mind can’t do it, and for that I’m truly sorry. I really miss this blog and writing and all of you, but I have priorities that go above it for now.

Am I saying you won’t be seeing anything of me until December? It’s a very likely possibility. I’m crossing my fingers that I can put out something, even a little thing sometime in between, but for now I think it’s safe to say I’m out of commission until December. I really hope you guys understand 🙏🏼

I love you all so much, thank you for sticking with me through the long update/announcement. Please stay safe and healthy, remember that you’re loved and you deserve the whole world, and there is no one else who can replace you 💖

~Chibi

#text #update #announcement #tiny talks #pa school really be kicking my ass though #i wanna sleep

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marvelgbt-posts · 4 years

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you’ve changed

i thought the song goes well with the scene (sw: peter cries) where peter cries so if you wanna play it there, you can :)

Request: Hi I hope your having a good day or night depends on the time your reading this. How about a Peter Parker x Male chubby reader were they dated before thanos snapped his finger and the reader didn't get snapped away and spent the next 5 years living out his life and when peter comes back he finds the reader but their in their 20's and divorced with a kid. Then they try to work things out. It could have angst but have fluffy ending. Maybe the reader waits till peter is olderand ask him to marry

i absolutely l o v e this idea, ty for requesting ^^ it's somewhere after homecoming, but mj already knows about peter, in the first part. The second one would be uh after endgame lol

youtube

You weren’t popular amongst your peers. Hell, no one really knew you or your friend group of four. You didn't mind, nothing like that really bothered you all. Michelle was currently using Ned as a reference for another one of her art pieces that would bring some sort of “revelation” to those who viewed it, like the ones you see when browsing your Instagram feed about global warming or species endangerment.

Peter, on the other hand, was working on his new suit upgrades. Behind Mr. Stark’s back, he wanted to make his suit more powerful, especially since his parental lock was taken off - also behind Stark’s back, but he didn't have to know (though, of course, he already did). You were working on school assignments since there was nothing better for you to do anyways. Both you and Peter worked on the floor while MJ had Ned sat on the bed in a position where he looked as if he were murdered.

You glanced over at Peter; he peeked over at you simultaneously, the two of you smiling as a bit of pink made it to both your cheeks. You went back to your respective work, as did Peter.

…

“Peter?” you whispered, careful not to wake MJ and Ned up; MJ next to you on the ground and Ned, snoring on the top mattress of Peter’s bunk bed with an arm and a leg slung over the edge. “Yeah?” he whispered back, equally as cautious. You sat up a little, “I can’t sleep…”

“Yeah, me neither..” he responded.

“Can I, um.. Sleep next to you? Maybe?” you asked shyly, before shaking your head, “nevermind.. That sounds stupid, just forget it.”

“No!” Peter winced, looking up to Ned dangling over the edge of the bunk, before lowering his voice, “No, it’s fine. You can come up here, I don’t mind.”

You carefully slipped out of the blankets you shared with MJ and hopped into bed next to Peter. He was at least a head taller than you, if not half. He awkwardly shifted to the wall, and you felt like cringing. You were always a bit.. soft.. You weren't obese; oh no, you were the average healthy weight, and you could complete the mile somewhere in its required time. It wasn’t like you were unhealthily big, it was just your body shape. You had big thighs and a tummy that would show through shirts that were too tight (for your liking, anyway). Compared to Peter’s secretly toned body, you were like a marshmallow, and you disliked it very, very much.

However, Peter loved it, though he’d never admit it. Sure, you took up a little over half the space, but Peter honestly could care less. You felt him nudge your side, moving to come a bit closer. He was just in boxers and a t-shirt. You had pants and a hoodie, and Peter could just barely feel your body warmth. He looked at you, and you could just barely make out the shape of his eyes, how they looked; begging, big, puppy-like eyes. You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle, “Careful Parker, that’s pretty gay..!” you joked silently. He let out a breathy laugh, “Nothing’s gay about cuddling with your best friend..!” You chuckled, opening your arms for him to come into. He rested his chin on top of your head, wrapping his arms around your upper body while you wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

Like magic, you both found the sleep you’ve been craving so much.

~~~

You watched in fear as half of the people around you began to vanish in clouds of dust. You looked over to MJ, who was accompanying you to a bookshop that had just opened a few days ago. She looked down to her feet, which began to slowly fade away, before looking up at you in fear, “y/n, i–” but she was gone. You tried to grab her hand, her shirt, anything, thinking it would somehow stop what was happening. But you couldn't, if anything it sped up the process. You cried, trying desperately to grasp some of the ashes of one of your best friends before she was gone– to no avail.

Crying there in the streets of New York, watching as people screamed for their loved ones, you curled up into a fetal position, tears streaming down your cheeks. You knew Peter had skipped a school field trip to join Iron man and the other well-known Avengers in whatever was causing this, but you had no idea where Ned was, if he was alright... And, well, you already knew MJ was long gone.

What about your parents? Were they disappearing as well? Quickly, you ran back in the direction of your small Queens apartment, praying to whatever gods were out there that they were safe and unharmed.

~~~

The hallways of Midtown high school were crowded as those who had disappeared from the ‘Snap’ reunited with their friends. No one realized that, for five years, they had all gone missing. Sure, they remembered the process, but for them, it was like taking a five-minute nap rather than a five-year-long one. Peter was almost breathless as he saw MJ and Ned on campus, a wide smile on his face as he jogged up to them, surprising the both of his friends as they all had a moment, hugging, shaking hands, glad that everyone was safe.

Well...

Almost everyone.

“W-Where’s y/n?” Peter asked, looking around to try and find your small and round frame that he missed since he’d left Earth. MJ and Ned shared a look, and Ned bit his lip. “He-... he’s not here..”

Peter choked on his breath, “He died?!”

“What? No, no,” MJ was quick to confirm, waving her arms almost frantically, “He wasn’t uh, what do you call it? Snapped? He stayed here, he grew up.. He’s like, twenty now.”

Peter couldn't believe it. You would’ve been way older than him now! “Tell me you’re kidding, is this a prank?”

MJ shook her head, as well as Ned. No. No, no, no, that can't be true. If it was, were you lost from them? Did you know where they were? He was scared for you, imagining your chubby, short form frightened and worried for everyone's sake. He looked desperately at his two remaining friends, “Do we.. Do you know where he is? His location?”

Ned beamed, “I’m your guy in the chair, of course I know where he is!”

…

Peter was hesitant to knock at your door, knuckles moving towards and then away from the wooden surface. He had to admit, your place was nice, on the outside at least. He could judge the inside once.. If… you answered the door. Once Peter got the courage to finally make his presence known, a few seconds later a child peered through the window. He was surprised, but smiled and waved to the kid. She smiled and waved back, before looking behind her. Peter assumed that was, hopefully, you. The door opened, and Peter had to look up, like, wayyy up. You had gotten taller, and slimmer. Peter noticed you were more built, and he had to stop himself from lowering his gaze and letting his mind melt into the gutter. “Peter..?” you asked, almost dumbfounded at the sight of your high school crush. The little girl from before wrapped her arms around your leg, looking up at Peter with wide eyes, “Daddy, who’s this?”

“Daddy?!” Peter blurted out without thinking. This was all happening so fast. “y/n?” he looked up at your face again, and you nodded. While much had changed about you, he was glad your smile remained the same. Soft and bright and infectious.

“Yep, this is my daughter, say hi honey,” you looked down at your daughter, who shyly waved and grinned at Peter. She has your smile, Peter thought to himself.

Wait, if this was your kid, that meant.. You were married? He couldn't imagine it, the thought of it. The life he imagined so many times over and over in his head, about what life would be like with you in the future, ruined because of some giant purple alien with a lack of brain cells and the face of an avocado’s backside, and a woman he didn’t know of.

“Peter, would you like to come in? I bet you have questions..?” you asked, and Peter shook his head to get out of his thoughts, before nodding, “Yes, please.” Here you two were, speaking formally as if you were business partners. You invited him inside, and your daughter moved to the couch, taking a small, pink, fluffy bunny into her arms as she sat down. “Emily,” you said sternly, making Peter flinch, “What did we say about shoes on the couch?”

The girl, Emily, promptly removed her velcro slip-on shoes before looking to her father, who smiled in approval, “Good girl!” She smiled, and Peter giggled as he sat himself on the couch. You sat on the opposite side of him, your daughter moving from next to Peter, to your lap. You sat her on your knee as she played quietly with her bunny stuffed toy.

“So, you, uhh, grew up?” Peter asked awkwardly, and you chuckled bitterly, “yeah, haha.”

“You’ve changed,”

“Five years does that to you, I guess,”

“This your daughter?”

“Yep. Emily. She’s three.”

‘That means you had her around, what, junior year? y/n, I didn’t know you had it in you…!’ Peter joked to himself in his mind. But there was a burning feeling in his stomach. This domestic lifestyle; a quiet house, a child, and later on he found out you had a german shepherd named Skittles (Emily had named him). He wanted this life for so long, ever since he realized his feelings for you, with you. But you had lived a life without him, not that he blamed it on you.

After an hour or two of recalling the last five years of your life to Peter, including meeting Amanda, your ex-wife, and having Emily, it was time for him to leave.

“It was nice talking to you again, Peter,” you said shyly, another thing that hadn’t changed, thankfully. He bit his lip, lingering on your porch a bit, “Uh, hey.. y/n..?”

“Yeah?”

“So.. you aren’t with your ex-wife anymore, right?”

“Yep, no contact, nothing,” you were holding Emily in your arms, resting her on your hip. You could see conflict in Peter’s eyes, so you let her down and shooed her off playfully to go entertain herself with toys. She obeyed, and you turned to Peter, who looked up at you with glossed eyes. You felt your breath hitch, “Peter.. What- are you okay?”

He nodded, biting his lip, before shaking his head, “no, no I’m not okay! You grew up, you have a life now.. I didn’t even get the chance to be a part of it.. You– I loved you! I still do..” he cried, wiping his tears as he sobbed. You looked down at him, and you couldn’t help but sigh. He was still a child, of course. He hadn’t matured at all, since he’d basically been frozen in time. He was still the same childish teenager you knew five years ago. “Peter..” you whispered soothingly, wrapping your arms around him. It was now your turn to rest your chin on his head like he would do all those nights in freshman year. You held him in a protective embrace, and he just held onto your back, gripping at the fabrics of your t-shirt. You shushed him, “Peter, it's okay, I’m here..”

“But you’ve outgrown me! You’ve lived your life, you have a daughter, you got married, all without me! I wanted to be the person you could count on, the one you would go to sleep and wake up to at night, someone you loved, but instead.. I-.. you…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence, instead crying into your shoulder. “Peter, I understand..” You whispered, “I loved you, too, I still do.. It’s just.. Our age gap now, I don’t think we can make it work now..”

Petr let out a shaky breath, nodding, “Yeah… I’m sorry,” he said, and you shook your head, “You don't have to apologize, none of this is your fault…”

Peter looked to your chest, still holding tightly onto you, before he perked up, looking up at your eyes, “Wait, y/n, I think.. Could you… What if I graduated? Wait no, that didn’t come out right.”

You chuckled. Peter shook his head, “no, listen to me. I know I’m five years younger than you now, but.. If I came back after graduating high school, when I’m older, would you be willing to, I dunno, make it work?” You thought for a minute, biting your lip, “Maybe… it would give us enough time to.. Catch up, fully…” the look on Peter’s face, it made you melt.

~~~

Ever since that day, Peter had been visiting you and Emily almost every day. Emily became used to him a few weeks in, now looking forward to her favorite visitor to knock on the door. She would open it and squeal, “Uncle Petey!” and Peter would always carry her when he walked in, without ail, and lift her up and make her giggle. The fact that Peter was treating your young like one of his own, it made you fall even more in love.

One day, you and Emily were in the kitchen, finishing up homework for her first-grade class. She huffed, “This English stuff sucks! I’d rather do math, and be super brain smart like Uncle Peter,” she said, crossing her arms. You sighed, and a giggle came from the doorway of the kitchen. You looked behind you to see Peter leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed, “English is important too, kid,” he said, sitting next to Emily, across from you. He was eighteen now and on his way to a promising college. He had a lot of responsibilities already, with his senior grades coming to an end and taking up half of Stark Industries with Pepper. You were proud of him, to say the least.

“In order to be super smart,” you said, “you have to be well-rounded. That includes English, young lady. Come on, it can’t be that hard,” you took a look at her paper, “Oh shit, wait this is hard.”

Peter and Emily gasped, “Language!” they said at the same time, making the three of you giggle. “y/n, I have something to ask you,” Peter said, glancing at Emily, “privately.”

Emily sighed, exasperated, “What?! Why can’t I know?!” she whined, kicking her legs a little. You chuckled, ruffling her hair a bit, “Get to finishing that homework, kid, we’ll be right back.” Emily pouted but got to work regardless.

“What is it Peter?” you asked once the two of you made it to the living room. Peeter looked into your eyes, he had grown taller, almost as tall as you now. “So, uh, I talked with Mrs. Stark, about things… I uh, I think I’m gonna move into the Stark Tower, focus on my studies there, help Pepper with running the Industry and prepare Morgan. She’s seven now, you know, just a year younger than Emily... They’d be great friends.. Emily likes math, Morgan is a science buff, like her dad.. Uh,”

“Peter, what are you getting at?” you asked, a small grin forming on your lips. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m getting at- uh, what I’m trying to say, what I’m asking is if, you and Emily would like to stay with me in the Tower? It would be easier for us to see each other.. And Morgan would love Skittles, and Emily, she wouldn’t be lonely when she comes home. Morgan is homeschooled at the moment, they could both be homeschooled together so they aren’t lonely, you know? A-And–”

“Peter,” you cut him off as he began rambling. He looked up at you, clearly shaken and desperately awaiting your response. You smiled, “Of course, I'd be happy to move in with you. But I might reconsider the whole ‘homeschool’ thing. I want Emily to be raised normally. She’s smart, sure, but she still needs school. Homeschool, we can think about when she’s older.”

Peter grinned, hugging you, “Of course! We can do that!” he giggled, and you heard a cheer come from behind the two of you. You turned around, a scowl on your face as you saw Emily, not doing homework. “Emily! Why aren't you finishing your English homework?”

She blushed, “The kitchen and the living room are right next to each other! How could I not overhear..?” she paused a moment before speaking up, “Are we really gonna live at Stark Tower..?” You sent Peter a look, and he smiled and nodded, “Mhm! Right next door to Uncle Pete!” Emily was ecstatic, and that was an understatement.

~~~

An eleven-year-old Morgan and ten-year-old Emily were playing Wii Sports in the lounge, Morgan purposefully losing to Emily since she had been winning too easily the last few rounds. She was treating Emily exactly like a younger sister, and it warmed your heart as much as the coffee you held warmed your hands. Emily cheered, having won another Tennis match. Morgan faked sighed, “Huff, that doesn’t make sense, you’re cheating!” she playfully shoved Emily, and they both giggled. Eventually, Pepper came into the room, “Morgan,” she called sweetly, and both daughters looked up, “it’s time for you and Emily to head to bed.” The girls groaned but nonetheless followed directions.

You nodded over to Pepper, “I’m gonna head to my room now, got some work to do,” to which Pepper responded with a nice, “alright, sweet dreams y/n.” You waved goodbye and made your way to your room.

…

You were covered in your bedsheets, warm and on the verge of falling asleep when a knock came from your door. You sat up, a groggy and sort of annoyed “Come in,” emitting from the depths of your throat. Peter came in, a little embarrassed, you could tell, that he had disturbed you at this hour, “y-y/n, can I come in? I.. can’t sleep,” he admitted, looking at his bare feet. You yawned, not being able to stay mad at him, and nodded, patting the space next to you. No longer had you filled up more than half the space in the bed like you had 5 years ago, Peter noticed, beginning to miss those times when you did and feeling a little bitter that he had missed so much time with you.

You took initiative and wrapped your arms around Peter’s shoulders, bringing him into your now toned chest. Peter went red; you could feel the heat of his face against your skin. Peter wrapped his arms shyly around your waist. He was twenty-two now, and you were twenty-seven. It didn’t seem like much of an age gap now as it had seven years ago. He bit his lip, should he ask now?

After a few minutes of conflict, Peter opened his mouth to speak, until he realized you had… already fallen asleep.

‘Great,’ Peter sighed, ‘The one time I manage to muster up the courage to ask, and he’s asleep.’

…

Another few months had passed. You were in the kitchen, going through your phone while making another cup of coffee for yourself, before you felt Peter wrap his arms around you from behind, resting his head in between your shoulder blades. “Good morning, handsome~” you teased, to which earned a groan in response. You had been dating for around four or five months, but it honestly felt like longer. Well, of course you were dating before making it official, you yourselves just didn’t know it yet, but pepper sure knew, as well as morgan, Emily, May, Happy, and everyone else you knew.

‘Today is the day,’ you thought to yourself, handing Peter a cup of coffee as he opened up his tablet to begin working on lab assignments. He thanked you and you kissed his cheek, before leaving the kitchen to the lounge, sitting on the couch while waiting for Peter to join you. ‘Today’s the day,’ you repeated the thought, ‘I’m going to ask him, today’s the day.’ Peter eventually joined you and you cuddled for the whole day, Peter finishing his assignments all the while.

You checked your watch, sighing, “Pete, I gotta go pick up Emily,” you said, kissing his cheek and nudging him off you. He whined, “If we homeschooled Emily, you wouldn’t have to worry about picking her up!” he whined, and you had to hold back a laugh. Peter had picked up Emily’s habit of whining. You swore she was becoming more like Peter’s child every day.

…

Peter began sleeping with you since you two began dating. It helped Peter with stress from work and his recurring nightmares of Tony’s death. It also helped you, since you had trouble sleeping as well. One night, however, as you both were staying up late talking and kissing, a hesitant knock came at your door. You looked to each other before Peter sat up to allow whoever was knocking to come in. It was Emily and Morgan. “Hey girls,” you sat up, voice calm and soothing, “What’s wrong?”

Morgan spoke up, “Mom’s out of the tower right now and the storm outside is scaring us,” she admitted, and Emily nodded her head. You cooed, and Peter opened his arms for the two children to come into. They climbed into bed, sleeping in between you and Peter. Emily had her head against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as she hugged you. Morgan had her back against Peter, who was sleeping on his side, petting her hair gently. The two of you were shirtless, but warm from the blanket, and the girls loved it.

A loud crack of thunder scared them both, and Emily clung onto you. You looked at Peter, who had the same look of sympathy as you. You sighed softly and began humming a tune from a song you’d heard once, calming the kids down until their eyes began to droop closed. Eventually, they were sound asleep against the two of you. You smiled, seeing as Peter was beginning to look a bit tired as well. “Pete,” you whispered, careful not to wake the girls, “Mh?” he responded tiredly. You played with Emily’s hair lovingly, running your hands through her h/c locks, the ones she inherited from you. “Emily really loves you, y’know?” Peter smiled, “That’s good to hear,” he said with a yawn.

“Yeah, she really looks up to you, kinda makes me jealous,” you admitted. Peter leaned forward, not wanting to crush Morgan. “Hm? Yeah.. I can tell she wants to follow in my footsteps, but it’s scary. If I mess up, she might too, you know what I mean?” Peter looked down at Emily, “I don't wanna be the villain in her storybook.”

You brushed Emily’s bangs out of her face, nodding, “Welcome to my life. It’s been hard ever since I divorced her mother. I don’t recall ever telling you this, but her mother was an alcoholic, which is why I left her and took Emily with me. She was never physical, but yelled at Emily a lot, even though she was only two years old.” Peter nodded in understanding, “That.. I’m sorry about that,” he said, looking up at you. You shook your head, “Don’t be. It’s in the past, and Emily hardly remembers any of it now… but, her looking up to you, reminds me of how she’d normally look up to a parent..”

Peter flushed red, “But, I’m just her uncle…”

“You don’t have to be,” you said immediately after, and Peter looked as if he would cry, “y/n, don't tell me y-you’re..”

“Peter, I think... I think I want to marry you, have the life Emily and I never got to have with Amanda. I know it won't be exactly the same, seeing as we’re both men. But I know Emily won't mind, and honestly, that’s all that I think should matter..” you looked up at Peter to see him crying, “Oh, god, no Peter don't cry..!” you said but he just shook his head, before biting his lip and nodding, “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then yes,” he said, a little choked.

…

The next morning, you broke the news to Pepper, who was a little more than excited. You then told May, who threatened you with your life, going on about how if you ever broke Peter’s heart she’d blah blah blah. You laughed at Peter's embarrassed face. Happy could have cared less, mumbling an “It’s about time, jeez”. Then, you told Emily, who took a second to process it before she jumped up and hugged you both, kicking and jumping around and just being a happy little ray of sunshine. You and Peter could say– without a doubt– her reaction, her happiness, that was what was most important, what made it all worth it. Time really has changed you and Peter both, and it was safe to assume you both wanted to keep it that way.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker mlm #x male reader #gay imagine #marvel #spiderman #marvelgbt-posts #peter parkerr x male reader

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flirting-with-psychology · 3 years

Text

Has the person you like ever seen you in your pajamas? Yes

Did the last person you kissed celebrate your last birthday with you? He was celebrating thanksgiving with his parents during my birthday but he called me

What’s the first word of the last text message you received? I

Do you think you’ve changed at all over the past year? I’ve gotten more anxiety and gotten fatter

Is there a song that reminds you of your ex? Do you still listen to that song? I Almost Do, Red, and If This Was A Movie (all by taylor swift). Yes I still listen

Did you tag anyone in your last Facebook status? Not in the post I shared, but in my last original post I tagged my boyfriend

How do you behave when you’re drunk? Usually giggly and overexcited

What is your least favorite type of chocolate? White chocolate

When was the last time you felt disappointed? What was the reason? Disappointed that the gym won’t let me cancel over the phone and might still charge me for february

Is there someone that can make you smile, even when you feel like crying? Not always

Is there a certain person on your mind right now? Tell me about him/her. My boyfriend

You’re getting ready to go to bed, and the last person you kissed shows up, what do you do? Get into bed with him

What was your last thought before you went to bed last night? Being annoyed at my dad’s snoring through the walls

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? Maybe

Are you okay right now? I haven’t been okay this whole year

What time did you get up today? Like 1:30

When was the last time you saw your mom? The other day

What is the last thing you drank today? Water

Do you dislike/hate anyone? Donald trump and Mitch McConnell

Where is your best friend right now? At home I assume

When will your next kiss be? As soon as we get negative test results

Will you be up before 7 am tomorrow? No

Does anyone completely understand you? No

Who was the last girl you hugged outside of family? I don’t remember, it’s been a long time

Have you held hands with somebody in the past three days? No

What will you be doing in 3 hours? Probably wasting time

How often do you straighten your hair? Never now, I used to when it was short

What are you currently looking forward to? The costume sale that hopefully I will be able to go to

Is tomorrow gonna be a good day? What are you going to do? Lol probably not

Who did you last hang out with? My dad

Did anyone see your last kiss? No

Could things possibly get any better? I fucking hope so

Do you know who you’ll even kiss next? I assume it will be my boyfriend

Do you ever sleep in jeans? No, that sounds really uncomfortable

Name something you dislike about the day you’re having? Stress

Did you get a full 8 hours of sleep last night? No

Are you in love lately? Not sure

How often do you see your ex? Rarely

Who was the last person to text you? My boyfriend

Did you like anyone last summer? Yes, my boyfriend

Do you replay things that have happened in your head? Yeah

Who was the last person you stayed up with till 2am? My boyfriend

Do you want a boyfriend or girlfriend? I enjoy having one

Are you currently in a relationship? Yes

Do you use a full length mirror daily? Most days

Would you be shocked if the person you have feelings for texted you? No

Is there anyone you wish you could fix things with? I would like to reconnect with my friend Shaina

What are you planning on doing after this? Idk

Is there a girl you would do anything for? No

Who IMed you on facebook last? My mom

How old are you? 26

Do you love dogs? Yes

Were you finished childhood and teens when Harry Potter movies came out? No, they started coming out when I was in elementary school

Did you keep all your VHS tapes? Probably

Do you think Jack Nicholson is a good actor? Yeah I think so

Have you ever watched an episode of “The Honeymooners”? No

Have you ever owned a pair of high-top Converse? No

Do you have rain boots with a cute pattern on them? I have cowboy rainboots

Would you rather eat an apple or an orange right now? Apple

Would you rather do a cartwheel on land or a backflip in water? If I could do either of them, a backflip in water would be cool

Have you ever performed on stage in front of people? Yes

Were you kinda scared of the goths in high school? Not scared, just didn’t have anything in common with them

What size is your mattress?(single,twin,double,queen,king) Full size

Do you eat foods from all 4 food groups everyday? Lol no

Do you sleep in PJs? Yes

Do you prefer watching TV or listening to music? Watching TV. Listening for music needs to be accompanied by another activity

Would you rather watch a movie in theatre or at home? Theater is fun, but right now at home

Do you prefer brown or white rice? White

Do you like spaghetti? I love spaghetti

What about lasagna? No, I don’t like red sauce

Do you celebrate Christmas? No

Is your Thanksgiving celebrated in October too? Who does that?

Do you like chocolate bars? Yes

what about ice cream? Mostly, although sometimes the plain flavors are boring

Have you ever been stung by anything? What was it? Wasps a few times

Do you get tired easily? Only in the morning

Or do you always have plenty of energy to spare? No

Have you ever done volunteer work? Where? I volunteered as a teaching assistant What about court-ordered community service? No

Have you ever worn contacts?(even just to try them out) I tried but it made my vision all swimmy

Would you wear contacts on a daily basis? Maybe if I got some that worked

Are your ears pierced? How many times? One on each ear

Do you have GOD-GIVEN(not dyed) natural brown hair too? I have natural brown hair but I don’t believe it’s god-given

Or were you born blonde? No

Have you found a gray hair on your head or body before? I don’t think so. Both of my parents kept their hair color for awhile so hopefully I got that gene

Have you ever had any suspicious moles removed? Yes, on my arm

Have you ever been screened for STDs? Yes

Are all your wisdom teeth pulled? Yes

Did you have your tonsils taken out? No

Did you have your appendix taken out? No

How many kidneys do you have?(have you donated one?) I have both of them

Would you(to save someone)?^^^ I'm not sure. If it was someone I loved and there wasn’t one already on hand, maybe

Have you ever found a bug or slug in your salad? ewww no

Do you like Harry Potter? Yes

What about Twilight? It was ok, I liked it at the time I read it How do you feel about Lord of the rings? I like the movies

Are you going to see ‘The Hobbit’ when it comes out? I did

Do you have a glass that says 'Molson Canadian’ on it? No

Do you have any collector’s glasses or cups or mugs? I have a bunch of shotglasses from places I visit

Would you rather have a white fridge or a black fridge or a stainless steel fridge? Stainless steel

What size shoe do you wear? 7.5-8 womens

Do you have a wide foot or a narrow foot or just average? Kind of dorito-shaped, so some shoe types just don’t fit

Do you bite your nails when you’re stressed? No

Do you have to take an allergy pill daily in order to live normally? No

Are you on the birth control pill? No

Or are you trying to get pregnant? I’m trying not to get pregnant, but I use condoms instead

You’d rather wear black sneakers or sneakers in a bright color or pattern? Probably bright color

Has anyone ever told you they were attracted to you? Yes

Can you swim well in water way above your head? Decently

Are you afraid of thunder & lightening? No

Have you ever experienced an earthquake? No

What about a tornado? No

Are you closer to your dad?(more so than your mom) I’m probably a little closer to my mom

Were you your parents’ first born? Yes

Do you have a child? Is the father still with you? No

Did you trade stickers at recess when you were a kid? No

How old were you when you had your first crush? Do you remember their name? I was like 5 the first time I put a word to it and his name was Aidan, but I probably had sort-of crushes even before that

Can you even remember what the hell they looked like? Blond, bowl-cut at the time. He actually grew up to be really hot so I guess I knew how to pick em

Have you ever operated any type of motorized vehicle before? A car

Are you going to drink alcohol tonight? Maybe

Have you ever heard of the Canadian kids show called “Mr. Dressup”? No

What about the kids show “Fred Penner’s Place”? No

Did you hate Sesame Street when you were little too? A little

Were you born perfectly healthy or with some(or a lot) of health issues? I might have had some minor things

Do you collect DVDs? Not as a collection, but I buy movies I like a lot

Do you download music? Yes

Or do you still go to stores and buy CDs? No, those are like twice as much

Did you skip(jumo-rope) a lot as a kid? No, I was bad at it

Did you ever catch any bugs or insects with your friends as a kid? Only roly polies

Didn’t you just LOVE art class in elementary school?! Yeah

Have you ever played dodgeball? Yes but not well

What about Red Rover? No

Have you ever played “What time is it mr. wolf?”? It sounds familiar but I don’t remember it

Do you hate your weight? Yes

Have you ever struggled with a mental illness? A little

Serious question, peanut butter or nutella? Peanut butter for a sandwich, nutella for eating straight out of the jar

Have you ever stepped on a snail? No

Do you prefer baked potatoes or mashed potatoes? Mashed

Do you prefer ankle socks over regular socks? Ankle socks

Last movie you’ve seen in theaters? I can’t remember

What is your oldest sibling’s middle name? I don’t have one

Have you ever been to Disneyland or Disney World? Both

Would you ever go backpacking across any country? Probably not

Would you prefer to travel around the world by yourself or with a friend? With a friend

Do you like breadsticks? Yes

Do you usually wear shorts around your house all year long? No, but I do wear short sleeves year round

What state were you born in? Colorado

Have you ever had a nose bleed? All the time

How far away do you live from your birthplace? Like 15 minutes

Do you have a weak stomach? No

Do you know anybody who has been diagnosed with cancer? Yes

Have you ever had to take care of an intoxicated person? Yes

Have you ever considered becoming a lawyer? Slightly but not really

Do you *really* like donuts? Yes

Do you think Disney World could ever get old? At some point

If you could, would you hookup with the last person you texted? Yes

What are your favorite things to spend money on? Jewelry and nerd stuff

Will you talk to the person you like on the phone tonight? I am talking to him right now

What do you usually order on a pizza? No sauce, cheese, garlic, pinapple Do you and your boyfriend/girlfriend fight a lot? Not really

Who’s the first person with the letter “m” in your contacts? Mac

Which would you rather have a new puppy or kitten? Kitten

How old will you be on your next birthday? 27 yikes

What color are your underwear? Turquoise

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? If it’s messy

#survey

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icyowl · 3 years

Text

I too want to participate in this interview thingy making the rounds, so you get to know me better haha.

Nickname: io

Pronouns: She/Her

Star sign: Sagittarius (I’ll spell it without autocorrect someday)

Height: owls are little so think small haha

Current time: 21:31

Birthday: December 10

Favorite Band/Artist: Shinedown, ugh, my love

Song stuck in your head: stop it (stripped) by sleeping lion... for now

Last movie/show you watched: Hellsing Ultimate

When did you create your blog: january 25th or so im a little baby i know

Last thing you googled: “mha season 5 release date dub” please don’t hate me for watching dub okay i come in peace

Why did you chose your URL: i like animals and snow so i was gonna pick snowyowl but there’s a species of owl already using it and i wanted to be more creative. icyowl rolls off the tongue.

Do you get asks?: i think i’ve gotten one ask but i know more are coming ^_^

How many people do you follow?: 77 (is it embarrassing to have a lot?? i dont know)

How many followers do you have?: 28 and I’m so thankful for each one!!

Average amount of sleep?: 8 hours but then i take naps too so like 9 or so? i physically cannot function without proper sleep and my body will force it if i get too exhausted so its better to just do it

What im currently wearing: owls don’t wear clothes silly

Dream Job/trip: dream job would be presenting animals to the public or being a sports coach maybe. as for a trip i wanna go to Antarctica probably

Favorite song: it changes all the time but right now its the weight by amber run

3 fictional universes you'd like to live: good question! mmmm i’m gonna say Toriko, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Harry Potter

#infant blog #im nice i swear #i love talking too #talk to me before i talk to myself again

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kakitysax · 3 years

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@tatiebop thanks for the tag! It didn’t work lmao but I saw my name in there! These are all probably going to be really long, too, so...sorry in advance.

(Actually it ended up being so long that I’m just gonna put a cut right here)

Name/Nickname: Oh boy.

My real name is also my birth name, and I’m not about to share it. Not because I’m scared of y’all but because I do like having some level of mystery or privacy or whatever.

I also have a lot of names that I like, but very few of them are actually in use. Also, just to be clear, Karkalicious is not one of them. That one is more like a pair of ironic sunglasses that I’ve become pretty fond of wearing. Still, I guess it’s about time I share some of the more utilitarian ones...

Kaz (Kazzy / Kazzyboi) is one that’s gotten the most use over the years. On the spectrum of serious to ironic names it’s closer to ironic, but that’s just because it belonged to a shitty character I made when I was twelve.

Calais (Cal / Callie) is one of my serious names, and has also gotten some use. I’m pretty fond of it.

Most of the other names are ones that I share with characters of mine. But my REAL name is always gonna be my birth name. I love it so much. Wish I’d realized sooner that you don’t need to change your name in order to be nonbinary.

Gender: Nonbinary.

I do have a gender, but there isn’t really a word to describe it? It looks and smells vaguely feminine but is decidedly not female. I like She online, but They in real life, and I’m not averse to He.

Sign: Libra (I’ve always resonated a lot more with Gemini though. Not sure how I come across. Let me know!)

Height: 5′2 and 3/4ths

Birthday: October 21st

Favorite Bands: Look my taste in music is shit it’s just a grab-bag of singular songs that I stumbled across and liked. I do like U2 though.

Favorite Solo Artists: Lemon Demon, Toby Fox, Tensei (Fucking kill me.)

Song Stuck In My Head Right Now: Lifetime Achievement Award (Lemon Demon)

Last Movie: Wall-E (last Saturday’s Family Movie Night)

Last TV Show: Depends on how you classify it? The last show that I’ve watched that is like professionally produced is Pokemon: Indigo League, which I watch with R. The last episodic animated series I’ve consumed is the fanmade anime Touhou: Memories of Phantasm

When I Created This Blog: Last September

Last Thing I Googled: “Crying Emoji Meme” for This Post

Other Blogs: @karkles-does-things @yeet-your-smeet @the-grub-hub @yeet-your-feels

Do I Get Asks: I get them pretty much daily ever since Jay came back from the dead, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like more! (sometimes I lie awake at night wondering who it was that asked if I would rather have $4000 a week or $10 million up front because I think they’re my favorite)

Following: 88

Why I Chose This URL: Story Time

Shortly before I made this blog, I had an encounter with my sister wherein I was forced to engage her while heavily dissociated. The back of my brain had to generate something completely mindless to say in order to give some semblance of humanity. Like one of those fucking “we showed a Robot 20 hours of X and then forced it to write it’s own X.”

What it churned out was “don’t you hate it when you just yeet your skeet?”

“What?” asked my sister, a valid question.

“You know, when your skeet’s been yeeted?” I responded.

It kind of stuck.

Among the few who know about the incident, to have your skeet yeeted has come to mean having an out-of-body experience so intense that you are either deluded or no longer aware of the random bullshit that you are doing. It makes sense.

Average Hours Of Sleep: 7

Lucky Number: I don’t know if this is like an astrology thing, and I don’t care because my lucky number is 13 and nothing will change that

Instruments: I can bullshit my way around a clarinet, and know a little more about drums. The only thing I’ve been consistently learning to use is my voice. Apparently it’s a good one, but I’ve been feeling kind of insecure about it lately.

What I’m Wearing: My Void Hoodie. Always. Also sweatpants.

Dream Trip: Japan. But only after I learn enough Japanese to not fucking embarrass myself

Favorite Song: Bro why do people ask this? Let’s be real here, we all have an ever-shifting list of songs that slap and songs that we’ve listened to so much that we hate them now and songs that we liked when we were depressed and make us too sad now.

Top 3 Fictional Universes I’d Like To Live In:

Uh it’s less that I want to live in a fictional universe and more that I want control over how I can interact with other people. I’d be fine with any universe provided I could fly and teleport and maybe turn invisible.

Fucking Shit this got really long.

I’m gonna tag @timefire25, and @maxisfunky because I’m pretty sure Tatie got everyone else. @thegayhellhound I’d love to hear from you too

#karkles stop #long post sorry #ask me shit #oversharing with karkalicious #hope y'all like hearing about me #because that's what this post is #a whole lotta me

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