#more angel dust doodles because he is very pretty and i love him

[crowtallyho]

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹

#more angel dust doodles because he is very pretty and i love him #Angel Dust #Fat Nuggets #Hazbin Hotel #Art #if anyone noticed me replacing this multiple times within the span of a minute #keep your fucking mouth shut

[teddie-bear420]

CHARLIE AND VIVA

The princess of hell and her trusty knight are on a mission to save sinners souls!

Doodles and rambles under the cut, and I mean like walls of text

be aware I make shit up a lot, I was very high on drugs and gay sex

Welcome to the show I’ve made in my head, ok where to begin? I guess with how boring I find Charlie nd vaggie in the show proper, I like them, they just don’t have any real spice to them. Charlie is a just a girl, she has no real friends and just surrounds herself with others problems. Check out the beginning of episode four, husk just says that out loud, we saw it once with angel dust and then they totally drop it for the rest of the show. I wanted to see Charlie fail and get back up again, but we don’t see that! Idk maybe I want more out of the text but I hated to see Charlie act like a baby, not a young woman, I makes me so mad that she isn’t really friends with anyone, no fun dynamics, Charlie kinda just looks at her guests and ‘employees’ but she never sees them. I mean like give me some bff moments with Charlie, she has no friends, she a loser baby!

Vaggie is the best better at making friends, and enemies honestly she is the second protagonist. I hated her until I saw her fuck ass bob. I fell in love

Ok so I made a prequel hazbin design that I just fell in love with, here she is. Ok so girls is bugs, vaggie is a moth and lute is a mantis, they grew up together in heaven. Being raised to be an exorcist was pretty sweet except for the military indoctrination!

Wonderful lute convo here

So vaggie is now in hell and is saved by Charlie, who believes that vag is a sinner. Eventually they get together romantically and start working on the happy hotel project, then they get angle dust as a guest. You know the deal, but how did vag get with Charlie? Who asked who out? I love how loyal vaggie is to Charlie but WHY is she so loyal? I think because Charlie wanted to ask about vaggies life and she took the opportunity to become a new person !

I think having char be the ray of sunshine in such a violent place attracts the lost and broken to her is cool. Vaggie tells ridiculous lies about her human life like being ran over by a horse. And being a pirate captain. Vaggies colors go from green to purple, aesthetic goes from Joan of arc lesbian to a captain Ching Shih lesbian yknow what I mean?

Charlie is taken in with this eccentric woman and befriends her. And also when Charlie and vaggie start to get closer char gifts her the red ribbon that vaggie wears all the time. The pink red is Charlies color and it sticks to all of her friends! Like when angel and Charlie get really close she gifts him the hot pink gloves and he wears them for the duration of the show. (I’ll write about that in another post lol)

MY CHARLIE loves to feed people food she’s made, so she just keeps feeding vaggie and the she starts to beef up, buff 5’4 vaggie lets gooooo. They cook food together and help sinners together. I forgot to mention that Charlie in my perfect world does actual charity work, she works down at the soup kitchen and cleans up the parks and gives people work, Charlie is just constantly busy and never gives herself a day off. Vaggie does her best to help while constantly working on her prodigious.

These girls also work at the local theater! They do a lot of dress up! And i really liked the idea that Charlie is astanged from her dad and is no contact with him. So she isn’t some princess that’s throwing money at the poor. She builds her own motel for the happy hotel project so that when it is destroyed they can build the hotel proper and have an actual emotional impact.

A little comic I sketched of out, Charlie was calling her dad for help with the hotel but he completely shuts her down and calls her idea dumb, I liked when Lucifer was a shitty dad that called Charlie a failure, instead of some sad loser who forgets to call his daughter, like I have a shitty dad and he tore down lots of my ideas and then is confused when I don’t talk to him.

Like idk how there are so many characters with daddy issues but they all are poorly written…

What else is there? Ermmm, I suppose I like Charlie as a demon that looks the most human out of the cast, like sure she has clown makeup as skin but giving her round ears and a demon tail looks super cute. And in the first few episodes Charlie hides her tail and uses it as a belt, and as a show of faith she reveals her tail to the hazbin gang!

#teddz stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel charlie #hazbin hotel vaggie #chaggie #charlie x vaggie #vaggie x lute #hazbin hotel redesign

[radioisntdead]

Just thought about this, but could I request a platonic ask with the Hazbin Crew (or just Charlie and Vaggie) with a frankenstein-esque sinner reader? Stitches all over their limbs, mismatched and it’s a common sight to see their limbs falling off their body and they only sigh before picking it back up?

They’re very nice, just tired and getting fed up/disgruntled with their own body and how it’s scarred, mismatched and always falling apart.

Good evening my dear! I wasn't too sure how to make this into a full oneshot so I made it into headcanons hopefully that's alright!

I actually have a OC very similar to this however she's a ragdoll so taking inspo from that

Hazbin hotel x gn! reader [platonic]

Warnings:

Limbs falling off, Alastor stealing arms

The first time they witnessed you lose a limb it freaked the majority of them out [Alastor only widened his grin because he's creepy like that]

The lot of you were just hanging out and doing a trust fall exercise and poor Sir Pentious was the one to catch you, he was not expecting your limb to just come straight off, like he was holding you and your arm was beside you on the floor.

And you just causally sighed and wiggled out of a panicking Sir Pentious's arms and grabbed your arm grumbling about having to sew it back on.

I imagine you may have to sometimes reinforce certain parts because sometimes you just go running and SNAP the stitches on your leg becomes undone and your face meets the ground.

There's a sewing kit almost anywhere in the hotel for you to use in emergencies,

Niffty is skilled with sewing so I imagine if you let her and don't mind getting stabbed a couple times she'd sew you right up in mere seconds, I imagine if you don't mind melding fabric to your skin she'll sew on fabrics with pretty patterns on, maybe it'll make you feel better about your loose limbs.

Angel dust LOVES coming up with nicknames for you, Frankie, Patches, Frankenstein's long lost child, patchwork, ragdoll etc etc

I'm gonna be honest Alastor probably tries to munch on your fallen limbs, I can see him grabbing your fallen arm and booking it out of there while you chase after him yelling for Vaggie to do something.

Vaggie gets your limbs back

Going off the fabrics if your okay with that going on your skin Charlie definitely buys some for you as a surprise, she'll ask Vaggie on whether or not she thinks you'd like a certain fabric patch.

I think having a bunch of patches gifted to you by loved ones is a nice thought, we adapt habits, traits, mannerisms etc etc from people we love and the people that love us sometimes adapt our habits, traits, mannerisms etc etc from us, we're a lovely mashup of ourselves and the people we love.

I imagine Sir Pentious would build something to help keep your limbs together, like a brace or a prosthetic covering of sorts?

Alastor gives you a patch and it's just arm themed, he probably steals your limbs like five times in a week,

"DAMN IT AL, THAT'S THE FIFTH TIME THIS WEEK STOP."

"no"

You have to get Vaggie to help you retrieve your limbs before Alastor makes your arm into an arm pot pie or something.

Husk would help you with carrying anything super heavy, particularly if it's alcohol because he is NOT risking your arms ripping off and no more drunky tipsy times [I can't legally drink I don't know how it works and I don't wanna know.]

Whenever Charlie asks for a hand and your arm has been detached you hand her your arm, freaks her out for a second before she's just like "Haha very funny please don't do that again"

Charlie definitely works on making sure your comfortable in the hotel, if you're ever insecure about your scars she'll take a pen or something and doodle around them.

Honestly Charlie probably thinks your mismatched patches look cool and you remind her of a plushie she had as a child,

If your filled with cotton like a plushie do expect hugs.

Good evening folks! I am making my way through requests! Plus the part two to Too sweet and Eldritch horror reader's backstory [EVIL LAUGHING] will be out soon!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel

[bbyannabeth]

aspiring artist

For a brief second, Percy thought he’d died and gone to heaven. Because surely, the girl who’d just stepped onto the subway was an actual angel. She was stunning. Her hair fell just past her shoulders in loose ringlets, her eyes were a beautiful shade of gray he’d never seen on anyone else, her cheeks were dusted pink from the cold September air. And Percy really thought he died when she sat right next to him.

He glanced at her and noticed a bunch of freckles across her face and he had the urge to count them. He desperately wanted to say something, anything, as he stared at his hands. His eyes shifted a few inches to the right and he noticed a little flower drawn in sharpie on her jeans. It was likely done by a child but nonetheless, there was a story behind it and he wanted to know it.

Percy looked at her. "Cute flower,” he said quietly, nodding towards her jeans when her eyes snapped over to him. She looked at the little doodle and smiled beautifully.

“Thanks,” she said. Her voice made his knees weak. “My niece is an aspiring artist.”

Percy laughed and rolled up his sleeve to show off the little flower his sister had drawn on his wrist this morning. "Ah, so is my sister.”

“Very cute,” she said with a chuckle and it was clear the conversation was over.

Percy looked from his wrist to her jeans and his eyebrows furrowed. The flowers looked eerily similar. “What’s… your niece’s name?” he asked slowly. The girl stared at him for a second before her eyes moved to his wrist, then her jeans.

“Estelle,” she answered.

Percy blinked. “Estelle… Jackson?”

She stared again. Then her eyes flicked between the two drawings. “Yeah…” she trailed off.

“Six years old? curly brown hair, green eyes, an absurd amount of freckles?” he asked.

The girl’s lips quirked up. “That’s the one. She’s your sister?”

Percy nodded with a smile, though his blood ran cold. If she was related to Estelle, then that also meant the very pretty girl he had definitely wanted to flirt with was related to him.

"Ah,” she said, nodding. “You must be Percy then? She talks about you a lot.”

Percy’s heart warmed at the thought of his little sister babbling about him the same way he talked about her all the time. “That’s me,” he smiled. "And you said you’re her aunt?” he asked

“Oh, well, kind of,” she said. “You know Piper McLean?”

Percy nodded. Piper was his and Estelle’s aunt, though he and Piper were roughly the same age. She loved teasing him about that relentlessly.

“Piper and I have been best friends since we were four, so I’ve known Estelle since before she was born. She calls me auntie Annabeth, but I’m not actually related to her,” she explained. A slight weight was lifted from his shoulders.

"I definitely recognize your name,” he said. "I’ve heard it from Piper before but I’ve also heard it many, many times from Estelle. She talks about you more than she talks about Piper.”

Annabeth’s eyes lit up as she laughed. "I will be telling Piper that and bragging about it. I’ve always joked the Stella likes me more than her but it’s good to have some proof now.”

Percy laughed and glanced up at the screen showing the upcoming stop. His was next.

“My stop’s coming up,” he said regretfully. "It’s good to know we aren’t related but I’ll… see you around? Maybe?”

She started to nod before her eyes narrowed. “Why is it good that we aren’t related?”

Percy blinked. He definitely hadn’t meant to say that. "Because you’d technically be my aunt,” he smiled. "And I’d rather not have another aunt that’s around my age like Piper.”

“Uh-huh,” Annabeth nodded, though it was clear she saw the original intention behind his words. "It would be weird having a nephew my age, so I guess that’s fair.”

The train began to slow and Percy stood, holding onto the rail. Annabeth smiled up at him. "I’ll see you around?” he repeated hesitantly.

"Hopefully,” she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. The train stopped and he gave her one last smile before stepping off. The second his feet were on the platform, he realized he should’ve asked for her number. But he had lost his chance so he just trudged out of the subway station and made his way towards his mom’s apartment.

His phone buzzed a few times in his pocket but Percy ignored it in favor of keeping his hands out of the bitter winds. He stepped into the elevator and finally had a second to slip out his phone and check it. He had a few texts from an unknown number.

would it have been weird for me to ask piper for your number? i hope not because i did it was nice meeting you percy

#idk if i like this so im putting it here and not ao3 #lmk if its bad lol #percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo

[who-ever-said-i-was-nice]

Hi! Can I ask an ikevamp request where the boys find MC's sketchbook and is filled with drawings and doodles of them? If all of the suitors is to much, then just do for Jean, Will, Theo, Mozart, Leo and Comte. Have a nice day! ^^

Bruh this is a genius idea @jeanstan . First of all thanks so much for this request and second of all of coarse I will do all the suitors. Why? Because I’m awesome. No I’m kidding, I’m literally the most clumsy, airheaded  person on this planet. Think brain fried Kaminari energy. Also I’m really sorry this took this long. Anywhooo let’s get into it shall we. Tags:      @nad-zeta​

Ilevamp suitors finding mc’s sketchbook

Comte

you where just chilling in his armchair and doodling him when sleep over took you and fell asleep

being the gentleman he is he picked you up and set you down on his bed tucking you in nicely

then he noticed your sketchbook on the armchair

not even mr. Perfect-guy can resist tacking a little peek at it

so  he just looked at the page that was already open

an there he saw a pretty good drawing of him

Comte to his brain: take a peek you said. it will be fine you said. why are you looking through it. you said.

yup he ended up going through your entire sketchbook

he then wrote a little thank you next to your most recent drawing and set it next to you.

when you saw his little note you blushed, but at least he liked it

Leonardo da sleepy

you where both just sitting in the library

you got a bit hungry so you left to get a snack but you accidentally left your notebook there

you know this guy has a thirst for knowledge and that includes figuring out what’s in your notebook

he will pick it up and flip it open expecting to see notes or random drawings

nope nope he sees a bunch of drawings of him with notes like * damn that smile owns my heart* or * UUUUUUH why is he so annoyingly adorable*

This guy has the biggest smirk plastered on his face. when you come back into the room

“ I didn’t know I was annoyingly adorable Cara mia”

cue you turning tomato red

Napoleon

you where sparring ( or where watching the boys spar whatever fits)

after a few rounds you decided to get a drink and offered to bring drinks for the boys too

Jean excused himself and went to the bathroom and Leon was left alone

now your sketchbook was already just on the ground next to your hoodie

he didn’t touch it ‘cause he’s nice, but now..

he decided to take a peek

and he saw a sketch of him sparring

he flipped through it and found more pictures

him sleeping, him laughing, him teaching the kids the best thing that would describe him in this moment that meme: mha heart mah soul

and you catch him with the notebook in his hands

he just walks up to you and hugs you

Isaac

little bean

he stumbles across it by accident, literally stumbles

you dropped it and he tripped on it

he’s like the f is this?

he picks it up and opens it

oh my Lord

he’s as red as an apple ( pun intended😏)

there are a bunch of doodles of him some where he’s holding Harry, some where it’s only him looking through his telescope or just off into the distance

you: Hey Isaac have you seen my...

Isaac: no I haven’t seen the notebook, idk about a notebook, what is a notebook even

poor boy

you just hug him and reassure him you’re not mad, when he mumbles an apology

Jean

precious bean yes Isaac, Jean and Vincent are all beans. COME @ ME

so you carried that notebook around everywhere you went and while he is not as attentive as Arthur he still noticed

so when you left your notebook in his bedroom after bringing him breakfast he couldn’t resist the urge to take a peek

when he sees a bunch of drawing of him he’s..torn

on one hand he’s moved and is actually happy that you drew him on the other he doesn’t understand why you would want to draw someone as impure as him akgkgakgskgfau LOVE HIM PLS

when you come back into the room you panic a little ‘cause he’s staring at it with a blank expression

but then he apologizes and your panic melt away

he ask you why you drew him and you if play the “because I love you” card he will be shocked and happy and confused and surprised...( the list is so long A decided it would be best to just ad an etc. over here)

you hug him and reassure him he is important and you love him

Arthur

ok so he knew that the sketchbook was important to you right of the bat

being the annoying sweet person he is he decides to pester you more then ever

“ Whatcha got there Luv?” “It’s my notebook” “Can I see what’s inside” *flashes a severely annoyed look* “Arthur this is the 7th time today and i have the same answer. No.” “ Oh come on doll it’s just a peak” “It is closed for a REASON!”

Yeah you might have snapped at him a little but his ho guy ain’t giving up

so of coarse when you leave your notebook in his room he will act like he didn’t notice until you leave and then he will scramble out of his chair and nab the notebook

he opens it expecting a diary or just a bunch of notes only to come face to face with a bunch of pictures of him

he’ll raise an eyebrow and keep looking until he finds a very beautiful and realistic drawing of him sleeping with Vic and he looses his shit

he’ll run to you and pull you back into the room to cuddle and tell you how much he loves you no he’s definitely not crying

you don’t get what’s happening until he tells you he saw your drawing and you will turn slightly pink but honestly you just can’t be mad

Mozart

ok so we all know that when he finds this notebook he’ll be stone-faced  

you ain’t getting no type of emotion out of this tsuntsun

that is until he’s in public

once he’s in his room oh boy

at first it’s just a hint of a smile, but it gets bigger and bigger until he’s smiling like a dork as he inspects your drawings

he’ll never admit it but the fact that you drew him really warmed his icy heart

he even finds one where he’s by a Christmas tree smiling and a little note next to it saying “I’ll make him smile like this one day”

he closes the book and puts on his stone face again and leaves his room

in the corridor he runs into you

“ Hey, Wolf?” “What do you want.” “Isn’t that my notebook?” “Yes it is.” “So why do you have it?” “....Inspiration.”

yup now he has that notebook with him on the piano and only let’s you get it back if you want to doddle in it some more

Theo

you where cooking in the kitchen, whipping up some pancakes for the brothers

Theo came in to complain that there wasn’t enough syrup on his pancake and you flashed him a death glare and told him to get some from the cupboard

as he grumbles to himself h notices your sketchbook  on the counter

and he proceeds to open it and go through it

he sees a bunch of pretty decent drawings of him and he’s surprised

he’ll act all tough but he’s really happy

“ Oi, Hondjie! What is this?” he shows you your most recent sketch. The one where he’s walking King with a faint smile on his lips.

you instantly go bright red

“ Put that down! You where not supposed to see that! There not good just put it down”

he’ll sigh and pull you into a hug

“ I like it”

Vincent

smol bean

you left it in his room and he just wanted to take a peek

and he opened it up and saw a punch of sketches of him

they even had notes like “uhh stop moving you hand” or “how can someone be this pure”

he’s moved

will go and find you and apologize for looking in your notebook and will tell you how cute your drawings are

all in all he’s a sweet little angel but like who expected  anything else

Dazai

funny how he can’t remember your name but can remember exactly were you hide the sketchbook when you can’t take it with you

yup this guy just went and took it

he has no shame

he flicked trough it and smiled to himself

the drawings where adorable and funny and he loved it

you strait up walk in on him with the sketchbook and he just smiled at you

you turn pink trying to explain why you drew them

buuuut he just twirls you around and pules you into his lap smiling and you go over the drawing together recalling happy memories  

Sebastian

did somebody say Sebastian appreciation hours

You can’t really hide anything from Sebas can you

you went out to get groceries and he was cleaning up around the mansion

you had left your notebook tucked behind one of the library shelves and as he was dusting he found it

he opened it not knowing it was your notebook

he realized soon enough though

he just starred at the pages full of drawings of him

you waked in and he just calmly put the notebook down

he asks why you drew him and you turn pink

as you try to formulate a coherent response he sighs and makes his way to you

he gently flicks your forehead and smiles

“I never said I didn’t like them”

Will

ok so lets talk about our dear yandere boy Will

you hang out a lot at his villa

usually you are accompanied by Vincent

but today he remembered he had a painting to finish and left

you offered to walk him to the gate and he gladly accepted

however you forgot your sketchbook on the dining table

William instantly noticed this and couldn’t help but take a peek

he’s shooketh

the drawing are so cute  he really likes them

you come in and he smiles at you

your kind of embarrassed because 1 you didn’t want him to see that and 2 he asked you if you could draw in front of him

“ The way thou hand moves across this paper mesmerizes me”

you turn bright red but your happy he likes it

#Ikemen Vampire #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire le comte #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikemen vampire william #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire isaac #ikemen vampire napoleo #ikemen vampire fic #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen vampire hcs #ikemen vampire headcanons

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

just saw a Christmas card at the shops that said: “I want to be the reason Santa puts you on the naughty list” and am I wrong in imagining demon!Harry giving that card to angel!y/n?

“I got you something.”

The sound of a grocery bag thudding hollowly against the marble countertop of the kitchen pulls Y/N’s attention away from the kettle heating up milk on the stove. 

She’s in the middle of making hot chocolate for the second time today; she’d acquired quite the taste for it as the holidays draw closer. Her new craving is actually one of the reasons Harry had gone to the store today— she had run out of marshmallows to top her favorite seasonal drink. 

He didn’t mind going, especially when Y/N had come to him while he was watching a supernatural documentary on the couch, approaching him in such a timid, guilty manner while holding the empty plastic bag to her chest and giving him a small sheepish smile. “We ran out of marshmallows.”

Harry had glanced down at the sullen, deflated bag and then back up at Y/N, lips twitching with endeared entertainment. “I think you mean you ran out of marshmallows ‘cause I’ve barely touched the stash.” 

She had given him a pointed scowl, though she knew he was right. The amount of hot chocolate she’d been indulging lately was getting to be borderline embarrassing. “Will you just pick up more, please?”

Harry had beckoned her forward with his forefinger, patting the armrest of the sofa as a symbol for her to sit. As soon as she’d settled into the spot, he’d wrapped his arms around her tummy and yanked her down into his lap in a flurry of clear plastic and wild hair. She laid with her back against his thighs and her legs hooked over the side of the sofa, laughing breathlessly due to the random whirlwind. He’d placed a gentle kiss between her eyebrows, breathing in the sweet scent of her chamomile and mandarin shampoo. “Why don’t you just put it on your Christmas list to Santa?” 

“I think my drink will be cold by then.” She had quipped back, tilting her head with a deadpan tone, giving him an amused scoff. 

He jutted out his bottom lip into an exaggerated pout. “Tough luck then, huh?”

Leave it to Harry to be a little shit over the slightest things.

“Pleaseeeeee?” 

Harry had pursed his lips, head falling backwards against the backrest, humming thoughtfully in the back of his throat as if mulling over the request. 

Y/N had reached up and grabbed him by his t-shirt collar, pulling his head forward once again and down to her level, kissing the faint curve of one of his dimples. In return, it had pinched deeper into his cheek, his mouth jolting into a soft smirk. 

“Pretty please?”

“How can I say no when you ask so nicely?” 

He had to restock some toiletries anyways. 

Harry had treaded through the superstore leisurely, wandering through the aisles aimlessly and taking his time in choosing what shaving cream to get and searching for a new deodorant scent. 

He’d swung by the market section, picking up two packs of mini marshmallows instead of one, knowing Y/N would be extra grateful. He’d thrown in a bag of Texas style sliced bread for his famous French toast, along with a twelve pack of ginger ale and some white cheddar puffs to snack on later while watching Chopped. 

He never thought he’d ever be doing something as domestic and mundane as going to the store solely for the purpose of buying his girlfriend marshmallows— he never thought he’d have another girlfriend in general. It just hadn’t seemed in the cards for him at the time and the way Y/N just crashed into his life and completely stripped him of the brooding, deflective, unattached shell he’d built over himself for centuries was astonishing. And if he’s being honest, it was almost disgusting how soft he’d gotten since, considering his romantic side hadn’t flared up in decades. 

Harry had grown fond of it, though. The wholesomeness of simple tasks like this sat at the pit of his stomach in the form of a warm glow, putting an extra jump in his heels and a goofy, lovesick grin across the edges of his lips, exactly like the ones in those stupid romance movies he used to take the piss out of.  

The old lady hobbling down the bread aisle probably thought he was fucking mad— no sane person just smiles at the smudged concrete ground in the middle of a supermarket for no apparent reason. 

As he’d made his way towards the self check-out kiosks, the most obnoxiously sappy idea yet struck him like a punch to the gut, slamming the breaks on his steps. 

The greeting card corridor. 

He found the perfect one barely five feet into the aisle. It had a pastel green background that was strewn with laminated glitter. Off to the left of the card was the art: a set of bright red lace lingerie, crumpled as if it were sitting on the floor with a Santa hat strewn carelessly next to it, insinuating that whoever had donned the attire had gotten it off in a hastily manner. The doodle of the clothing had actual lace fabric overlaid on top of the drawing and the hat even had a miniature fuzzy poof ball at the end. The words were shifted more towards the right of the cover, scrawled right beside the image in big, loopy white cursive: I want to be the reason Santa puts you on the naughty list.

The font for naughty list was different— instead of the pretty, festive letters, it looks as if it were written on the surface with red lipstick that had been smeared down the bottom of the card, a small kiss print decorating the space beside the phrase, acting as punctuation. 

It was golden and it gave Harry a palpable reason to wear that stupid grin on his face. 

He’d jetted home, excitement sizzling his fingertips and causing them to tighten against the leather of his steering wheel. 

The steps up to the condo were taken two at a time, the elevator much too slow for his taste and he’d learned not to just flash in and out of public spaces anymore because it could result in a ruckus amongst the humans, which is publicity Lucifer really didn’t want to deal with.  

That brings him to where he is now, plopping the bags off his wrists onto the marble kitchen counter, startling a robe-clad Y/N from her spot before the stovetop. 

“I got you something.” 

His girlfriend drifts over to the kitchen island, leaning forward on her tiptoes to bend over the edge of the surface, taking a curious peek into the grocery bags. Her voice comes out soft and childishly hopeful. “Marshmallows?” 

Harry can’t resist the bubbly chuckle that her adorably excited aura draws. “Yeah, I got the marshmallows, don’t worry. But I also got you something else…and you should be grateful for it considering you’re a thief.”

He reaches forward and gently takes the collar of her lavender Sherpa robe between his index and middle finger— which is actually his lavender Sherpa robe that he treasures very fucking much— and gives it a signifying tug. 

Y/N tilts her chin down to get a glimpse of what he’s going on about and then bashful recognition washes down her face in the form of pursed lips and a blithe glint in her eyes. “Sorry, mine’s in the wash.” 

Harry begins rummaging through the groceries, moving his sensitive skin shaving cream and Old Spice deodorant out of the way with the back of his hands, retrieving the two bags of marshmallows and sliding them across the counter. 

He suddenly kinks a single eyebrow up, her comment plucking a memory string in the back of his mind. “Was it the one you were wearing two nights ago?” 

He can see her bite into the inside of her cheek, a soft blue glow just barely illuminating the ring around her irises as she nods her head wordlessly, gaze darting down to the treats to keep them from going into full headlights mode. 

Harry leans forward onto the marble stretch, balancing on his elbows, chin propped on the palm of his left hand as the other slowly fishes the greeting card out, toying the pad of his thumb at one of the corners. He’s too amused to interrupt her fidgeting by giving it to her so he’ll hold out for a bit. 

His voice comes out low and teasing through a cocky simper, eyes hooded arrogantly. “Was it the one you were wearing when you jerked me off on the couch?”

It’s like he can flip her on like a switch, a milky white light casting across the high points of her cheeks, originating from her irises. She blinks rapidly, willing it to simmer down, glaring up at him from under her lashes with sharp annoyance. 

Harry taps at his upper lip with the pads of his digits, Cupid’s Bow curling as his grin widens, the back of his throat resonating with a hummed chortle. The pearl necklace he’d recently bought sits atop his collarbones delicately, gleaming mockingly under the bright lights of the kitchen, rising and falling with his deep, easy breaths. He worries the right corner of his mouth with his top teeth, jaw clenching to keep in a full-bellied laugh. His lashes slowly dust the crests of his cheekbones with a seductive energy, a faint moan running along the undercurrent of his words, giving his voice a sultry twang. 

“Was it the one you were wearing when you undid the tie of my flannel pants, pushed them down my hips just enough to get my cock out, and then proceeded to tug me off while kissing up my throat, whispering on about how much you love it when I moan your name?” 

Y/N swallows thickly and she’d failed to notice that she was gripping the bag of marshmallows to her stomach, thankful that she was opposite to him over the counter or else he’d get a view of her slightly buckling knees. 

She abruptly tries to defuse the atmosphere of the room by clearing her throat loudly and switching topics. “Thanks for going to get these for—”

Harry isn’t having it, interrupting halfway through her attempt.

“Was it the one you were wearing when you were swallowing down the little whimpers escaping my mouth and begging me to cum for you? The one I got jizz all over when you tucked my hair behind my ear, pressed your warm lips to it and mumbled, ‘Want it so bad, Harry, please. I love how pretty you look when I make you feel good.’”

A loud popping sound punctures the tension toiling in the air, a shocked yelp accompanying the sound on behalf of Y/N. 

Their intense stare-down breaks to zero in on where the noise had stemmed— the bag pressed against Y/N’s navel. She had gripped it so tight it had burst open, spewing a few marshmallows across the coffee- and caramel-colored marbled counter. 

The blank look of remorsed surprise on Y/N’s features is what finally forces Harry to release the rib-splitting laugh he had been pushing down. 

Her head snaps up at him, eyes narrowing because this was his fault, after all. 

He covers the lower half of his face with his hand to try and stifle the giggles, but to no avail. They continue to wriggle free between the cracks of his fingers. 

Y/N sets down the bag carefully, making sure it’s positioned accordingly so nothing else rolls out. She mutters a colorful array of words under her breath as she collects the rouge marshmallows and Harry’s positive her choice of language would put her on parole in Heaven. 

He lifts his chin from his palm and reaches forward, plucking one between his thumb and forefinger and popping it into his mouth, chewing dramatically to flex his jaw because he can see her taking quick peeks up at him as she cleans. “That was the robe you were talking about, though, right?” 

She doesn’t look up, simply focusing on the task at hand, but her response carries the daggers her eyes would otherwise deliver. “Fuck off.” 

Harry decides that this moment is as good as any to give her the card, mostly because he knows it’ll either push her buttons in deeper or make her drop the grump act. 

He slides it across the smooth plain of the island into her line of sight. “Picked this up ‘cause it reminded me of you.”

Y/N squints at the card, taking in the message along with the risqu�� art. Her lips press into a thin line, her actions pausing as she hovers a marshmallow in her grasp above the little pile she’s made in her other hand. She blinks at the paper once, then again, and then her top lip twitches. He can immediately tell she’s trying to keep from smiling.

He feels his dimples whittle into place, a giddy burst of energy expanding in his chest now that he knows she liked it. He figured she would, but seeing it confirmed is much more fulfilling than he imagined. 

“It’s no knife to the chest like Romeo and Juliet but I’d say it’s a lovely sentiment. Plus, I’m not really looking to die again. Not a fan.”

His comment is the last piece of the puzzle that sends her into a wave of fond laughter. “God, you’re an idiot.” 

Harry returns her giggling with some of his boyish own, watching with pride as she places the stash of marshmallows back in the bag and then drags her fingers over the lace material glued onto the lingerie drawing, admiring it. 

“It’s called modern romance, darling. Get with the times, it’s not three thousand BC anymore.” 

The easy banter in his attitude causes her smile to grow a bit bigger; it’s easy to match. 

“Such a nice message. We should frame it, honestly. Show off how much of a hopeless loverboy you are.” 

Harry nods his head vigorously, rounding the corner of the counter until he’s standing in front of her, his fingers walking across the stone surface and she snorts at his silliness. His digits hike over the top of her’s, dropping flat to sift between them, feeling the light scratch of the perforated fabric as well as the sleekness of the laminated paper beneath it. 

His eyes flit up from where their hands conjoin, brows shrugging temptingly. “I think we should listen to the card first, though. We can put it up after we go through with its suggestion.” 

“Mm, I dunno…” Y/N squeezes his fingers sarcastically. “My hot chocolate’s about to be done and it’s been waiting much longer than you have.” 

Harry’s jaw drops in an open-mouthed smirk, a sound of airy delight tickling his tongue at the crudeness of her vague joke. “Did…Did you just willingly make a blowie joke?”

Y/N scrunches her brows with fake confusion, cocking her head to the side slightly as if she doesn’t have a single clue at what he’s talking about. “I don’t know, did I?”

Harry snakes his free arm around her hips, flushing their bellies together as he fully coils his fingers around the hand he’d been playing with. “Oh, I think you did.” 

He ducks down for a kiss, lips puckered and itching to caress her skin with his, only to be met with his girlfriend’s temple. She had turned away, biting along the inside of her bottom lip to maintain a cap on the little noises of glee threatening to overflow.

Harry sighs grandly, maneuvering his head to chase after her mouth, aiming for the jerking corner closest to him. She leans back a bit and swiftly jars her head to face the other side, condemning his target to be her left cheekbone instead. 

He groans in mild frustration, shifting their bodies until she ends up pushed against the edge of the counter, the dip of spine bending back over the table. Her hands find their way to his shoulders, coasting up to rest her palms at both of the curves of his neck. She thumbs over the hollow at the center of his throat, eyes flirting with his in a taunting manner. “Doesn’t taste so good when it’s your own medicine, does it?”

“You’ve taken up being the pest in the relationship then, have you?” The hand tangled with her’s goes slack, finding itself cradling her jaw, thumb tapping at the center of her bottom lip ominously. 

Y/N’s painfully aware of the way his forearm is flexing against the lower half of her back and she recognizes it’s in anticipation to lift her off her feet. Her toes curl in her pink socks and she goes a tad cross-eyed as his face draws closer. “No, that’s your job. I just thought I’d get on your nerves.”

“Why?”

“Just because.” 

“That’s a bit bratty, don’t y’think?” The tip of his cold nose feathers along the bridge of her’s. 

She draws her chin back, trying to keep their lips from meeting. “Maybe.”

Harry thrums thoughtfully deep in his chest and she can feel the vibrations transfer across her body, prickling along her cheeks and to the tips of her ears. “Well, you know what I do to brats, don’t you?”

Y/N is suddenly hoisted up off her footing and though she knew it was coming, she still reacts to it out of habit, arms fumbling messily around Harry’s shoulders to keep her from teetering. 

It had been the result he was hoping for because now she’s so close their Cupid’s Bows are knocking and he keeps her suspended for a second— a measly task courtesy of his inhuman strength. Her thighs clench around his hips, feet dangling behind him as she works to keep from slipping down, well aware that her socks would likely betray her to the smooth flooring and deposit her on her bum. 

The warm air of Harry’s low mumble makes the entire lower half of her face sting. 

“Brats get it fucked out of them.” 

Just then, at this energy-packed stand-still moment, the kettle goes off. 

Y/N has never been more thankful. 

She squirms in Harry’s arms and he doesn’t have a choice but to let her down, eyeing her with a condescendingly entertained gaze as she scrambles towards the stove to remove the shrieking kettle from its place. 

He can’t help himself.

He extends his arm forward, swatting at her ass before she’s gotten far enough that he can’t reach her. 

Y/N’s shriek is the same pitch as the kettle’s. 

She gives him the stink eye over her shoulder as he retakes his previous position on the counter with his elbows, chin in hand, the edges of a shit-eating grin peeking through as he bites into the side of his index finger. “I want some, too.”

She rubs her backside slowly as she shifts the kettle from the heated stovetop to a cool one, opening up the cupboard and bringing out two black mugs. She carefully pours the warm milk into each one, mixing in a few tablespoons of powdered cocoa along with some sugar. 

Y/N carries both over to the kitchen island, decorating the top of the mugs with a handful of marshmallows that begin to melt immediately. She pushes Harry’s towards him as she takes a sip of her own, still somewhat seething at him over the rim of her cup. 

Harry’s focuses in on the beverage, a mischievous glint flashing his eyes pitch black as he mumbles a spell underneath his breath. “Incendo.”

The powdery white candy suddenly catches alight, the royal blue fire lapping along the circumference of the mug and charring the contents inside.

Y/N chokes on her cocoa, spluttering into a round of panicked coughing; she hadn’t expected to see their kitchenware burst into flames anytime soon.

Harry’s eyes flit back to their usual juniper green, another enchantment tinging the air. “Exstinguo.” 

The fire goes out as quickly as it had ignited, leaving a very disheveled Y/N blinking dissociatively in its wake. Her sights then pin onto her boyfriend, irritation pinching her eyebrows together. “Was that really necessary?”

Harry shrugs nonchalantly, completely unbothered. “I like the smokey taste it leaves. Reminds me of s’mores.”

He brings the drink up to his mouth, blowing gently before tipping it back, feeling a soothing warmth wash down his neck and chest as it travels down his throat, the sweet, rich taste tingling his taste buds. An airy, appreciative purr rings from his chest. “S’good. Could use some bourbon, though.”

Y/N sets down her mug on the counter, still somewhat miffed, mostly because she knows he only did it to mess with her (probably as revenge for earlier). Both of her hands tighten around the ceramic surface, leeching its warmth into her body to help stifle the cold shot of adrenaline that had shot through her veins. She licks the marshmallow residue off her upper lip, tone passive. “Maybe a little warning next time? Would like a heads up before you try and melt one of our bowls.” 

“That takes all the fun away! It was supposed to be spontaneous.” Harry pauses, catching onto his unintended pun and grinning like an idiot. “Literally.” 

#demon!harry

[litwitlady]

When You Go, Take Me With You

On a warm July morning, Thomas Mann – not his real name, mind you – finds himself hauling ass down 285, praying that the airstream doesn’t come unhitched. Tommy has spent the last 11 months in Santa Fe grifting seniors in assisted living facilities out of their hard-earned nest eggs. But someone’s greedy little grandson finally noticed his grandmother’s savings dwindling away and called the authorities. He’s been riding hard all night and can’t remember the last time he ate. But he’s got a rap sheet three pages long and knows if he gets caught, he’ll never see the light of day again.

Eventually, his stomach wears him down, though, and he stops in Roswell at a kitschy little diner he hopes he can disappear into long enough to satisfy his basic needs. Halfway through his cheese fries, three sheriff’s deputies walk in and as they are chatting with the waitress at the counter, Tommy sneaks out and takes the scenic route back towards his pickup. He can’t really say he’s much surprised to find the actual Sheriff knocking on the airstream’s door. Knowing he’s lost this battle, he decides to cut his losses and run. The old Ford pickup is eventually auctioned off, but the airstream ends up in the impound lot collecting dust for the next year.

And then one day Michael Guerin accidentally illegally parks his truck on the Long farm where he promptly passes out drunk across the bench seat. Daddy Long calls the Sheriff and Michael’s arrested. Again. Max bails him out and drives him over to the Chavez County impound lot to collect his truck. And that’s where Michael Guerin falls in love for the second time in his life. The shiny, silver airstream gleams in the morning sunlight and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Not in a long while, anyway. He convinces Max to bargain with the county in order to buy the airstream for him. Michael knows they will laugh him out of the precinct, but Max is one of their own. He parts ways with every single penny he’s ever made, but he’s rewarded with the first permanent roof he’s ever had.

Not that Michael expects the trailer to be a permanent thing. After all, no home has ever been forever. Most haven’t lasted longer than a year or so. Besides his truck, of course. The mere idea that the airstream is mobile proves the impermanence of the situation. He can flit from place to ungodly place without settling down with any actual intent. There’s beauty in the nomadic nature of it all. Mostly, he doesn’t have to worry about being rained on any longer or crashing on Isobel’s sofa or cuddling up with Sanders’ dog. So, he’s happy. Content. Proud, even.

The trailer is cramped. The engine is shit. And the toilet is literally two feet from where he lays his head at night. How he convinces any of his hookups to climb into that tiny bed with him is anyone’s guess. There’s been more than one conquest sent home with multiple bruises. Once he burns a piece of toast so badly that he can’t sleep inside for a week. There’s no storage, the floor is lopsided, and Isobel refuses to step inside for two whole years. But hey, nothing’s perfect.

After a year together, Michael and the airstream find a balance that works for them. He covers the windows with old newspaper, adapts to being very, very tidy, and sleeps outside when the claustrophobia sets in. He even fashions a front patio out of some old oak pallets he finds in the junkyard. In return, the trailer gives him privacy, a sense of autonomy, and a place to bring Alex Manes when he returns from his first tour overseas. And every tour after that.

Not that he was looking to bring Alex back to his place, of course. He hadn’t even known Alex was back. And then suddenly, there he is. Laughing with Arturo in the Crashdown. Michael hardly recognizes him with the regulation haircut and newly lean body. He tells himself to walk away, but the universe has other ideas. Alex spots him and his whole face lights up. No one has ever looked at Michael like that and he’s lost all over again.

Over the next decade, the airstream begins to collect memories. Isobel blowing the door open and taking her first steps inside to shout at him that she’s engaged. Max showing up at 3 am like clockwork every year on Liz Ortecho’s birthday because he’s smashed and doesn’t want to hear Iz’s lectures. The Sheriff’s random visits for one reason or another; he suspects she’s spying on him. The brief time he lets an old, senior dog share his space. There’s still dog hair in the many nooks and crannies.

And then there’s Alex.

He’s everywhere - in every corner, every empty inch of space – filling up the entire trailer. Sprawled naked across the narrow bed, one long, gorgeous leg hanging off the side. Standing over the small stove laughing as Michael teaches him how to make the perfect omelet. Two old Air Force t-shirts stashed deep in his closet that Michael will swear up and down he doesn’t know exist. The silly little cartoon of a cowboy he’s scribbled on every single yellowed newspaper taped to the windows. And the one solitary heart drawn in permanent ink right above Michael’s pillow. He’ll never admit how many times he’s traced that doodle and prayed that Alex’s heart is still beating.

Not every memory is happy, however. He and Alex have always fought as hard as they’ve loved. How many times Alex has stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoing off the trailer’s tinny walls, door hinges growing whinier as the years go by. Tears shed in anger and in desperate sadness every time the Air Force calls him back to some violent conflict a world away. Damn near feral sex fucked out through those same tears. The sun rising over two beaten, broken hearts the next morning. Another goodbye. Another lonely year stretching out into the desert wasteland. And suddenly the airstream feels suffocating and enduring. Set in stone and unmovable as Alex walks away one more time.

In the in-between times, Michael nurses his bruised heart out on Foster’s Ranch, punishing his body with grueling manual labor. He settles the trailer into an anonymous patch of dust and scrub brush. He begins to collect various trailer accoutrement. First, a rusted, used patio set he grabs off someone’s teetering trash pile. Next, a ‘free parking’ sign he finds abandoned on the side of Route 60. On Alex’s next leave, he’ll mark out the ‘free’ and write ‘no’ in its place. Michael will try hard not to overthink the implication. Isobel says he’s nesting, jokes that he should hang up a cross-stitched ‘Home Sweet Home’. Michael begins to panic.

At the end of ten years, he gives up. The airstream is home. There’s no point in denying the most basic fact of his existence any longer. The impermanent is now permanent. He flicks off the tin bucket and then lovingly wipes away some mud caked on the tire well. Love/hate, defined.

He returns to the trailer after another stint in the drunk tank (a home away from home, if you will) to find a uniformed Alex Manes knocking on his door. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised to find him there – Isobel, after all, had been the one to organize his hero’s parade down Main Street. But it’s been two years with no contact – the longest they’ve ever gone – and so when Alex turns to meet his eyes, the breath is knocked right out of him. So begins another cycle of fight or flight. The airstream will play centerstage. He can almost hear the aging trailer sigh.

But this time the cycle ends differently. Michael moves the airstream into the Wild Pony’s parking lot, shocking everyone. Ostensibly to keep Maria DeLuca safe. But really just to be near her energy, her spirit, her laughter. He hopes to love her. He wants to be good for someone, goddammit. But deep down he’s worried he never will be. That he’s about as solid and steady as his home on wheels. Good enough for a little while, but never long enough to last. Always ready to roll off a cliff with the slightest push.  

He hates when he’s right.

Maria breaks up with him in a hospital room. The next night he meticulously searches the airstream for anything she might have left behind. A shoe, a bra, some lipstick. But there’s nothing and he feels like the trailer is out to get him, shoving those two old Air Force t-shirts in his face. The tiny, scribbled cowboys serenading him with derisive laughter. The black heart mocking him. And Michael can’t take it anymore. He slams the airstream’s door shut, nearly knocking it off its stupid creaky hinges and calls Isobel, all but demanding she meet him at the Pony. He needs a drink. Maybe several. And a shoulder to brood on. Perhaps he should call Max instead.

Michael doesn’t expect open mic night. He doesn’t expect Alex Manes and his dumb angel voice. He doesn’t expect to be confronted with the one answer he’s always wanted. But home is a tricky business. Especially for an alien stranded in the foster care system on the wrong planet. As Alex sings his song – asking Michael to come home – everything becomes crystal clear. And Michael tries to telepathically tell the airstream to go fuck itself. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t work.

Because here’s the thing. Home can be a person.

The answer has always been that easy and that impossible. And the airstream has always known. Watching all these years as the two of them danced around each other. The ultimate grift. The longest con job this side of the Milky Way. Michael Guerin has been played, marked, and left wanting. His genius brain duped and cheated. The airstream has never been more than a shit engine and lopsided floors.

After Michael leaves the Pony that night, he moves in with Isobel. And he goes to work. On himself – AA meetings, college classes, mending all his relationships with Max, with Maria. With Alex. And on the airstream – gutting the inside and converting the space into an admittedly revolutionary eco-friendly garden greenhouse.

Once the project is finished, he attaches the toe hitch to his Chevy and heads east until he pulls into the Chavez County Children’s Home. The director meets him outside and shakes his hand with tears in her eyes. Michael walks her and several of the children through the garden, excitedly explaining all the vegetables and flowers he’s planted. Isobel arrives to take pictures for the local paper and secretly shed several of her own tears. She watches Michael happily playing with all the kids and teaching them the wonders of composting. Soon, he gives her a kiss on the cheek and climbs back into his truck. He’s got one final stop to make.

As he drives through the center of Roswell, something swells in Michael’s chest. He knows this place so well – has been arrested on nearly every corner. The Crashdown has always welcomed him with a warm meal and silly antennae. New Roswell High – with all its memories, good and bad. The UFO Emporium – or what was the UFO Emporium – with its fake alien displays and empty corners perfect for kissing sweet emo boys with the biggest of hearts. Of all the places to crash land, Roswell hasn’t turned out so bad. It’s truly a stunning conclusion.

When he arrives at his destination, he pulls into the driveway next to Alex’s green Explorer, grabs his two duffel bags, and heads to the front door. He opens the lock with his key and shouts to Alex that he’s home.

#michael guerin #malex #malex fic #i never thought i'd write something michael centric #not sure it works but i tried #so have 2K words and fuck the 4th

[weeklyfangirl]

Frat Boy Pt. 21

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 (1), part 7 (2), part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13 , part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19 , part 20

HI LOVIES. Please enjoy a Friday update on the Frat Boy universe. This one is a bit of a breather after the TUMULTUOUS ANGST of the last chappie. Shorter than my usual, but it’s all the chapter needed. Tons more y/n and Harry interaction on the way in the next! Have a safe and happy day loves xx

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

Things I want:

Live a life that helps others

Financial freedom

Experience a great love

Visit the the Pincio Gardens in Italy

To have more dreams and fewer nightmares

Doodle more

Acquire a first edition book, either because an old  friendly man who owns an antique bookshop decides to give it to me in a bonding moment, or because I have accomplished #2 and I am celebrating being a Boss Bitch

To be happy

Please note: not necessarily in that order

 It was taped above my desk, waiting for me to bring it in to the next session. I hesitated to write number 6. It was a dream I hardly entertained after committing my scholarly life to pursue medicine. I used to love to doodle. All the time. Since elementary school. I doodled so much my mom dedicated a wall in the house to my illustrations. She hung a sign above it that affectionately said “Y/N’s Doodles.” Seriously, you couldn’t get me to stop. Even if it was gross sappy sketches of my crush Billy who I would NEVER show on the playground at recess.   

 My doodling stopped how these things normally do. Because life grew busier than anything else, and the sketchpad and easel my dad had bought for me at a garage sale became ignored, collecting dust in the corner of my room. At some point, it’d become a year since I’d drawn anything, and then it was two, and three, and by this point I’d realized I was the one who’d need to create her own stability in life and medicine was the more logical fit. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the value in drawing anymore, I just had other things take up my time. It became a comfort just knowing I used to draw. Paul had paved his way, and now I was on my way to do the same. At least with medicine, my soul felt fed. It was almost comfort enough. 

  “oH WE GOT A ROGUE ONE.” 

 A flying toenail hit my eye. 

 “WHAT THE-” I flailed my arms, as though there were a thousand more coming. Renny’s mouth opened in shock, her guilty body hunched over her bent leg. Clippers in hand.  

 “Sorry!!” Renny burst up laughing.

 “oH MY GOSH CAN YOU DO THAT OVER A TRASH CAN OR SOMETHING?!” 

 “IT HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN!!” she screamed back. 

 I blinked rapidly, my left eye watering up and spilling painless tears. “Well I’m going to have conjunctivitis at the studio later. Or I’ll be stumbling in blind.” I wiped it away.

 I heard another clip and she put up her hands with another giggle. 

 “All done. And you won’t stumble, I’m going to be there.” Renny extended her leg, her perfectly trimmed foot nearly touching the ceiling.

 “You’re just going to solicit Zayn to be his next subject.” 

 “Maybe,” her grin grew devious. “But also because I want to see if he captured the angelic beauty and complex nymph nuances of my best friend.” 

 I put a hand to my chest, still aching from uncertainty. “Honored.” 

 “Want to watch another episode until it’s time to go?” 

 This whole lazy morning had been an OC Housewives bingefest. She’d seen it on my homepage and had a complete spazz, twitching whilst proclaiming but i’ve been trying to get you to watch this show for YEARS!! When she saw the old season I was on, though, she didn’t have to question why her pestering had miraculously worked. She didn’t mention him aloud besides giving me a pointed look. And so, we watched it, even though I wasn’t really in the mood to see anything about Harry right now. It’d hurt more than I thought to walk away from him last night, and to see how sad he looked when I did. 

 After last night, he hadn’t posted anything to social media. He’d called, twice, but I knew he was drunk, or worse, and I was tired, and whatever he would say he could tell me in the morning. Even though I knew he wouldn’t. 

 And he didn’t. 

 And therein lay the problem. 

 It hurt to see his family on my little box of a computer screen, weird to see his life and get glimpses of his childhood. I felt like a hacker spying on home videos. But then I reminded myself that thousands of people had already done the same. At this point, it was just… morbid curiosity.

 “Nah, I don’t know if I can handle any more of that right now. Dr. Rhinecuff is going to yell at me if I don’t return these scanned copies to him by Monday.” 

 “Ew, he smells like meat.” 

 “RENNY!!” 

 “I’m just saying. That one time I went with you it smelled like pastrami in his office. He has a PhD, but isn’t with-it enough to buy air freshener.”

 “He likes pastrami sandwiches, let him live.” 

 She scrolled on her phone, not bothering to respond, and my gaze turned to the window. 

 “Hey Renny?” 

 “Hm.” 

 A bird flew close to the glass, halting just before it hit it, then zooming off in the opposite direction. “What’d you do when your parents were fighting?” 

 “Ummm…” I knew the question registered in her mind when she stopped scrolling, suddenly concerned. “Are your parents okay?”

 “Yeah. I mean, kind of.” I glossed over it, not caring to get into the bitter details. “I was just curious.” 

 “Uhh..” She plucked at the soft cotton of her cotton candy pajamas that were fraying at the knees. “I lost my virginity to Zach,” she half-laughed.   

 “Zach? Neighbor boy Zach?” 

 Renny nodded. She always sounded a little sad when she talked about him. Zach was the hot college boy who shared a backyard fence with Renny, the girl who may or may not have used her kitchen stool to peak over and see him workout on the grass every summer he came home. I’d known they’d slept together. I just didn’t think he was her first. 

 “I just tried to be out of the house as much as I could,” she said. “Found my true love Mary J.” 

 “Oh.” 

 “It was shitty, but I’m glad I got it over with.”

 “The divorce or your virginity.” 

 “Both,” she chortled. “Why what’s up? Are you sad or something? I have a j in my drawer.” 

 “No, no, I’m fine.” Mostly I was just wondering what it must be like to feel so sexually liberated. In my house sex wasn’t talked about. At all. The inevitable sex scene in every other movie would result in my dad blaring out “WHAT KIND OF MOVIE IS THIS!” in an attempt to make it less awwkard, but having it backfire and only make it horrendously more awkward. I wasn’t saving my virginity for anyone in particular, but after all those romance novels, I wanted it to be… something. I wanted to feel something towards the person where it would justify something I’ve kept to myself for so long. I wanted it to be intense. I wanted it to be like the books. Like a Frank Sinatra song that swept up your heart and transported you back to a time of gentlemen and cigars and women in long evening gowns with fur coats and martinis. 

 “I wish I could just get it over with,” I confessed. One half of me screamed YOU’RE IN YOUR TWENTIES HAVE ALL THE SEX while the other half said YOU’VE WAITED THIS LONG DAMN IT HOLD OUT A LITTLE LONGER. I didn’t know which part of me was compromising more. 

 Renny leaned in, quick. “Would you do it with Harry?” 

 Like the flip of a switch, I remembered the sensuous heat of his body against mine, wrapping me up and pressing me against him where we just fit. And I couldn’t imagine how much better it’d feel to be even more connected to him. 

 “Maybeeee…?” 

 But then there was last night. 

 I cringed. No matter how with me he’d seemed… he couldn’t have been present after mixing whatever the hell he took and a handle of alcohol. Did I really want someone like that? Someone who could only give a shell of themselves? 

 “No, I wouldn’t. Or- ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know if it could ever mean as much to him.” 

 Renny nodded. “I mean, don’t let him pressure you, obviously. If he does, I’ll kick his baby maker smack into his prostate. Prostate. See, anatomy. You taught me that.” 

 “Haha, no, he’s not like that.” My brows stitched. I was confused why he wasn’t more like that, actually. We’d known each other for several months now and he hadn’t even put a finger in me. When I thought about it, it actually frustrated me. Don’t pressure me to do anything, but I wanted to be pushed to do something. I was never the bold one in areas like this. 

 Not that I should be so willing to do anything with him anymore anyways. Something shifted in me when I’d seen him last night. It wasn’t a shift I could easily describe, but it’d set me a foot apart from my heart. A bit of me was shocked that it had happened so suddenly. 

 But this shift was new, and my heart still wanted what it wanted. I knew that if I watched any more OC Housewives with Harry’s toddler curls and surfer tan, I’d be sucked right back into speculating about what our future kids could look like. And if I saw him? 

 You were right, Harry. You are fucked. 

 I cringed again. That was harsh. That was very very harsh. 

 I didn’t know if I’d have the courage to apologize. What if my pheromones went berserk and magnetized me to his side??

 Renny was right.

 I needed therapy. 

 The clippers were tossed back on my desk.

 “Thanks,” she said. “Have you started on your DG Double P yet?” 

 DG Double P = Renny Speak for DG Pretty Please. 

 I groaned. “No. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, honestly. I have to-”

 “NO!!! Don’t tell me. We’re not supposed to tell each other.” Her hand extended in panic.

 “Fine. I can keep a secret.” 

 I was getting a little too good at that lately.

 She moved onto her belly, splaying her arms out in a dramatic fashion, face squished against the comforter. “Isn’t it just killing you inside.” She was dead serious. 

 “Yeah, more than you know.” 

 And I was serious, too. 

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

 I wasn’t expecting people to dress up as much as they did. Donned in my only pair of yoga pants and a chunky white sweater, I walked arm-in-arm with Renny past girls in cocktail dresses and guys in button-downs. 

 Something that sounded like a baby’s cry filled my ears, but it was gone as soon as we walked through the doors to the on-campus gallery.  . 

 “Woah did you hear that?” 

 Renny nodded, tossing her head back. “There’s a baby somewhere.” 

 It reminded me of the bodiless screams in my nightmare. In my chunky sweater, I shivered undetectably.

 The on-campus gallery rotated exhibits throughout the year, but this time, student sculptures were on pedestals, nightmarish portraits hung on the walls, and red and orange tapestries swooped down and across the ceiling in a cirque-du-soleil moment as if to secure us beneath fire. Some students had separate booths, but other pieces of work trailed seamlessly into the next. 

 A tree made from photographs and newspaper took up the center of the space. Zayn had been so adamant about his muse having life, I wondered if that was the focus of this exhibit - to capture natural life. But I suppose all art did. 

 “It’s the circle of life exhibit,” Renny stated, as if reading my thoughts. 

 “How’d you know that?” 

 She held up a pamphlet she must’ve grabbed from the entrance. 

 I quickly scanned the room, hoping to find Zayn quickly so I could skip out just as quick. 

 Several of my professors were here, including Dr. Rhinecuff. When he saw me, I raised my hand, but he raised his cup of red wine awkwardly and looked away. 

 My hand wavered. 

 Odd. 

 Zayn was standing by the tree, speaking with an older woman. Her skin was a rich brown, short hair hidden beneath a chic scarf. The man beside her looked around the same age with graying facial hair, a pocket hanky, and beaded bracelets. Art professors. 

 I caught his gaze, and he gestured me over. 

 “Y/N, these are my instructors. David and Ebony.”   

 Their eyes lit up in recognition. “He did you a great justice,” David said, gray moustache twitching with the words.

 Ebony beamed. “Oh yes, a piece was already sold. He’s going to be the next big wig before he graduates,” she gushed. “Zayn, I’m sure you’ll be splitting the profits with the heart of the piece.”

 She gestured to me and his smile widened, but my stomach sank faster. 

 “I didn’t know these pieces were going to be sold.”

 Ebony sensed my concern. The wine in her glass swirled. “We thought allowing the pieces to be shown and auctioned was a good way to replicate what many of them should be doing once they graduate. The whole department gets involved, and these kids put in a lot of work, and the reputation of starving artists isn’t something we want to buy into here.”

 I nodded. “I mean, that’s great. That’s… really amazing.” 

 Zayn couldn’t meet my eyes. He knew. He could sense my hesitance, too. 

 “Now he can finally afford a nice dinner to take you out!” David proclaimed. 

 We were all quiet for a minute. “You know, for a thank you dinner,” David covered up. Zayn’s brows scrunched and he shook his head a bit, not knowing where David’s comment came from. 

 “Do you do this regularly?” Ebony asked, steering the conversation away from an awkward moment. 

 My ears pricked up when I realized she was looking at me. “Excuse me?” 

 “Well I was just thinking…” a light laugh lifted as if her idea would be outrageous. “Would you mind sitting in for one of my classes on Monday? Our model had a sudden death-” 

 “My God,” David proclaimed. 

 Ebony waved her hand. “-in his family. I haven’t called to replace him yet.”

 It quieted as they looked at me, waiting for a response. “Oh, I don’t… I don’t usually do this. At all. It was a chance thing.” 

 “Luck be the artist.” David raised his glass. 

 Ebony followed suit, looking at my empty hand. “You just going to let her stand there without a drink?”

 “Yeah, Zayn. What kind of treatment is this?” I teased. 

 He did a slight bow. “Apologies. We’ll walk to drinks, immediately.” He pulled us away, leading us further into the showroom as his head dipped low to my ear. “Renny just passed us to meet Felix and them. They’re through here.” 

 We stepped under an archway that led into a darker-lit room, but his hand stopped me beneath the nook. “Did yeh notice anything?”

 Yeah. I was noticing how close we were in this archway. He saw my eyes start to squint in thought and he turned me around to face the room we’d just left. 

 “Look closer.” 

 My eyes roamed the crowd, trying to find some sort of person, or pattern he could be referring to. With a brief seize of my heart, I expected to see somebody from the gang. 

 “Look at the artwork, Y/N.” His breath warmed my skin. 

 The paintings all seemed to be bright, though sticking to red, orange, blacks, and grays. Wait, forget a pallette pattern. The next painting had blue and purple, too. One sculpture looked like a writhing ghost, twisting and reaching for something above. Or maybe it was an unearthed tree root. Despite all the bold colors, there was something off-putting about how bright they all were. It wasn’t a soothing brightness. It was almost violent. The orange and red writhing tapestries warped the ceiling into something hot. 

 “Is it hell?” I chortled, but quickly quieted. I expected him to take offense, but his hand went lightly around my waist with a small smile.

 “Could be. See-” his arm extended out to scan the perimeter “-all this art is supposed to represent death, but challenge the notion of it through color.” 

 “How so?” 

 “Yeh know it’s usually your blacks, and your grays, s’depressing shit. But we’re born from death. Before life, there was nothing, but something. It’s bold and necessary and there, and no one really knows whatever comes before. Or after.” He looked at the room, taking a sip of wine. I watched as he swallowed, and I imagined the wine running down. “What is death but an uncertain existence.” He said the thought almost happily, looking at me with a slight smirk. “Could be anythin’.” 

 He took a deep breath, letting his hand touch the top of the archway. It was then that I noticed it wasn’t just plain drywall. A collage of photographs ran all along the inside. 

 He wasn’t as tall as Harry, but his hand still reached the top, scuffing across a picture of an African landscape taped over a toddler eating fruity pebbles. 

 “They’re pictures. Everyone donated one,” he said. 

 A strand of words were painted over the collage, running from one end of the archway to the other, and I tilted my head back to read it. “Things... that…. make... m..e …...feel alive.” 

 “Everyone was able to design their space in order to control, to some extent, how their art was perceived. Everyone was a part of the transition space.” 

 “Very nice,” I noted, slightly put-off. I hadn’t been expecting this art show to be so… professional. “Zayn, this is amazing. Like, really, truly, professional-grade stuff is happening. The presentation, the pieces, everything.”

 His smile grew wider, putting cool hands over my eyes. I flinched, but let him. 

 I felt him come closer. 

“Listen now,” he urged. 

 I listened, but I wasn’t sure for what. There was the familiar busy rumble of people mingling, parents visiting their kids, and professors droning on about the talent of their students. But it was chatter. I couldn’t make out one conversation over another. I shrugged up against his other hand that was atop my shoulder. 

 “Sometimes you need to change where you’re planted to understand.” 

 I hoped he could see my cross expression because I couldn’t tell if he was bullshitting me right now. It’d been a day. It’d been a night. And I wasn’t in the mood for more philosophical ramblings - especially about death. “I don’t know what you mean,” I sighed. 

 “Meaning I have to move you closer to the speakers.” He let out a breathy laugh. “Jus’ keep your eyes closed, okay?” 

 I nodded. His hand moved, tilting my head to its side. Eyes still closed, I became self-conscious imagining people trying to move past me, and here I was, planted, eyes closed in the middle of the archway. My cheeks heated. It was unnerving knowing people could see me when I couldn’t see them. And anyway, I must’ve looked ridiculous. 

 “What do you hear?” he urged. 

 “I hear a lot of people talking,” I griped. 

But right when I was about to open my eyes-  

 I heard a familiar chirping through the chatter. 

 “Birds?” I opened my eyes. 

 “Observance can be taught, sometimes.” Zayn leant back, looking mighty proud of himself. 

 “Why are there birds?” 

 “We’re entering life,” he smiled, backing into the space. I tipped my wine back, several long gulps lightening my step as I followed him. Immediately, I noticed much more natural, earthier tones. For being a room of life, it was surprisingly darker than the prior room.

 Renny, Felix, and Andre were huddled in the center where a makeshift wall-on-wheels covered in vines divided the room in half. 

 My eyes widened, trying to adjust to the dimness. “It’s a lot darker in here.” 

 “All intentional. They decided to play with light in here. People usually think of life being bright ‘n that, but it’s also when we experience varying degrees of darkness. There’s a balance to things and the trouble is finding it.” Understanding laced his voice as his dark eyes bore into mine, almost completely black. One look from Zayn and I was reminded of all the weight I’d been carrying. I fidgeted, uncomfortable seeing myself in his eyes. 

 “Y/N, get over here!” Renny called. My shoulders visibly relaxed. My saving grace. “You didn’t tell me you did this,” she said lowly as soon as I got close enough, shocked excitement barely contained. Her giddy smile gave it away though. “Miss sexy secret keeper over here.” 

 “What do you mean?” 

 She playfully poked my sides, but Andre and Felix avoided my gaze. Something wasn’t right. And it stirred my stomach, my body already knowing, somehow. 

 I turned in slow motion, the charcoal drawings in my peripherals stopping me in place. Framed amidst the vines, my face was etched onto paper, scrunching and twisting in various expressions. But my body was attached and twisting, too. And it was bare, bent over, spread out, laying down… My eyes scanned over them a dozen times in a second. 

 I was naked. 

 In all of them. 

 One was titled “21st Century Love.” In this one, I faced the viewer, but looked past them, sorrowful eyes, brows furrowed, breasts I’d never shown on full display. A hickey or two on my neck. A painful sting gripped my chest. I looked sad. I looked so sad.  

 Tunnel vision, a blurred Renny rushed down to the floor, and a distant part of me registered something wet splatter on my feet. 

 The wine had dropped.

 I’d dropped it. 

 I was trapped in a shell. My body was numb. 

 “Babes, you okay?” Renny asked, her voice somewhere far away. Somewhere outside the shell, her voice drowned in the busy rumbling, with the birds, with the watchers. People were watching me now. I was being watched. “Felix, grab some towels!” she barked. 

 I looked horrified, towards Zayn, but changed my mind just as fast. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even breathe. 

 He didn’t know me at all. He could stare at me for a thousand sessions and paint every crevice, sunspot, blemish, and mole and still not see me. How was an artist this blind? How could he not know that this was the last thing I could ever want? How could he picture me so… intimately?

 The paintings seemed to swirl into one before bouncing back out into their separate exposees. 

 Because that’s what it was. 

 An exposure. 

 A stranger could pay to have me in their home. 

 The floor spun, vision spotting. 

 My lungs tightened, tearing me away from Renny, from Felix, from Andre. From Zayn, the artist who painted a confused girl so unashamed. So honestly. Savagely and Unabashedly. 

 “I didn’t want this.” 

 And it was when I was halfway out the door that I realized the voice had come from me, a mantra pushing my shell all the way home. 

part 22

#fratboy! harry #fratboy!harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #zayn blurb #harry styles one shot #zayn preference #zayn one shot #zayn imagine #harry styles #one direction #1direction #one direction imagine #one direction one shot #one direction preferences #harry styles preference #harry styles blurb #zayn fluff #zayn malik one shot #harry styles fluff #onedirection #zayn malik #zayn #niall horan #smut #fluff #harry imagine #harry one shot #harry blurb

[warmau]

☆ cupid!au wonho ~ 

you sigh  - watching as your friend puts another five pair of identical-looking shirts out in front of you 

“ok - which one do you think he’ll like the most?”

“um,,,,,this one?”

you point lazily at the third shirt - a yellow button-down with printed palm trees

your friend scrunches up her nose, crossing her arms and then shaking her head

“no! these are all wrong- let me look around the store one more time!”

more like for the tenth time

you think, but then grumble to yourself that you need to stop being so damn mean. it’s not your friend's fault she has a boyfriend and is head over heels in love and you’re,,,,,,,,,,

well - you’re still “looking” for that someone

but it is hard to stay positive with the holidays creeping up, everyone is asking you to go shopping for presents

asking you what you think about this or that gift for their significant others

most of the time you don’t know what to say, you’re not in their relationship so how would you know

but you feel guilty for not helping out so you end up in situations like these

wherein the end, your opinion isn’t even really needed

you look out the store window, scanning the mall that’s already covered in decorations for christmas

when you spot a new place you haven’t seen before

you tell your friend you’re just going to pop over and take a quick look - you’ll be back to help her keep choosing

and before she can really say no, you make a break for it and head over to the colorful doors across the mall 

“twotuckgom?”

you say it slowly and walk inside, looking up at the variation of giant adorable - um - bears?

there’s a cute looking pink one with a flower on its ear, a sleepy-looking purple fellow and a grey one wearing a sports jersey

each bear has its own little section and you stop when you come to your favorite color

yellow

“bebegom?”

you reach out and take one of the bears from the display, he’s cute - you can see why he’s called bebe and you gently squish one of his adorable ears in your palm

“ah - so you picked him?”

you jump, rattled a bit as you turn around and come face to face with probably the most handsome part-timer you’ve ever seen in your life

his eyes are smiling, and his strong broad shoulders somehow manage to look even cuter with the apron over them

his name tag says ‘wonho’ in cutesy lettering - accompanied by hearts and stars doodled beside it

“i - i just like yellow and well ,,, “ 

you feel like a fool, flustered in front of a stranger

“he is yellow alright” 

wonho chuckles and reaches out to pat bebegom still in your arms

you feel like you’re turning pink all over and wonho’s eyes flicker with a sparkle that’s almost inhumanly bright

which is true - because he isn’t human

he’s the cupid who's been watching you since last year - and now, he’s finally decided its time

it’s time for YOU to fall in love

approximately two minutes from now a boy will walk through those doors

he’s sweet, funny, and a gentleman - all attributes wonho knows you like and his name is yoo kihyun 

wonho thinks he’s a good match for you - and believe me, after going through all the candidates he was probably top five

because truth be told, wonho could have made you fall in love way earlier and way faster

but none of the guys around had been even close to deserving of someone like you

wonho smiles as you shuffle shyly in front of him, he’s always loved the way you could look so pretty without ever really trying

he hears the door open - turning, he confirms that it’s kihyun and he excuses himself to settle back behind the counter

all he really has to do is get the arrow he’s brought with him ready - if he hits kihyun straight in the chest, it’s a win

kihyun will see you and the flowers of a love will bloom

and wonho can finally see you happy with someone, which for what must be a millisecond, actually stirs something up in wonho

but he pushes it down - like he has been doing since he got assigned to you

and takes his place behind the counter

kihyun is reaching up for something on the top shelf - wonho pulls the arrow out of his back pocket - and without even a bow, just like a dart

he aims it 

right at -

your small yelp startles wonho, he turns just in time to see you falling forward and bebegom goes up and out of your arms

the arrow slips from his fingers and instead of going dead center on kihyun

it hits bebegom - and bursts into confetti of pink that only wonho can see

bebegom drops to the floor, rolling over and wonho

wonho touches his heart and oh no - oh no - oh no

technically, if cupid’s arrow hits something inanimate - it doesn’t matter. it becomes almost moot.

but the burst of confetti means it’s hit a human target

and well,,,,,,,,bebegom,,,,,,,,,,,,,this whole store actually,,,,,,,,,was created by wonho to be able to make you fall in love

bebegom by extension,,,,,,,is wonho

and since the arrow his bebegom that means - 

wonho looks at you and you’re leaning over to pick bebegom up

unaware of the exploded arrow - unaware of what’s just happened 

wonho was sure a little part of him fell for you as your cupid, but now 

oh no - is this what it’s like to be - to be - 

you turn and it’s slow motion

angels hymns are ringing in his reddening ears, and one - no two, no three! maybe ten? sakura blossoms seems to open up around you

“im sorry!”

you apologize and rush back to put bebegom on the shelf

kihyun, who seems to have vanished now, leaves you and wonho alone

and as you struggle to put him back where you got him from

wonho reaches up from behind

large hand overtaking yours as he gently pulls bebegom back

“i didn’t mean to trip - i hope he’s not dirty?”

wonho thinks your voice is ringing like bells 

“you should keep him.”

“ah- i mean, how much is he?”

you hadn’t even thought to look at the price tag, actually, you hadn’t seen one on him in the first place

and as you reach to take another bebegom off the shelf

wonho stops you

“no, this one. you should take this one-”

“oh is because i drop-”

“no......i think - this one is your destiny now.”

wonho locks his gaze on yours - something in your heart swells and wonho can hear it 

he wishes suddenly he was an angel angel - not just a cupid - so he could read your mind in this very moment

oh the higher authorities are not going to be happy, a cupid using his own arrow on himself!

but with the way you’re looking at him - wonho doesn’t think he cares about any consequences anymore

instead, he places bebegom back in your arms - 

“how much should i -”

“no, he’s free. just,,,,,,,,,,just promise me you won’t pick anyone else but him”

you look around at the other toy bears - but laugh and promise

“i think i like bebegom the best.”

“bebegom definitely likes you the best.”

“hmmm?”

wonho feels it again - the flowers around you, the pink confetti still stuck on bebegom’s ear

“oh nothing, let’s get him cleaned up - yeah?”

he reaches for a napkin out of the front of his apron and you dust bebegom off together

wonho plucks the confetti you still can’t see and saves it for later

well,,,,,,this really didn’t go according to plan,,,,,,but - who better to love them than their own cupid?

#monsta x scenarios #monsta x aus #monsta x imagines #wonho scenarios #wonho imagines #member: wonho #sfw #cupid au #monsta x #wonho

[randomly-random-jen]

Uncalled For Actions (4/?)

A Girl Genius fanfic

When Gilgamesh Holzfäller is fourteen, he’s taken on as an apprentice to Baron Wulfenbach as part of a program to produce the next generation of leaders in the Empire–a group that will hopefully get along (although most see this as wishful thinking on the Baron’s part).

He’s learned a lot over the months of shadowing the Baron, but nothing has prepared him for his most challenging assignment: confronting the skeletons in his closet.  [Part 1 | 2 | 3 | Part 5 ]

Part 4

About half a dozen emotions flitted across Tweedle’s face at that news before he settled back to his barely contained rage.

Gil refused to back down for the obvious intimidation tactic he knew well from his childhood. He brought himself up to his full height which was still nearly a head shorter than Tweedle, chin held high and a practiced, indifferent expression plastered on his face.

Finally, Tweedle stepped out of Gil’s personal space and dusted the front of Gil’s jacket like he was straightening out the wrinkles Gil had already fixed. “The Baron, you say? I heard a rumor about you.”

Gil cocked one eyebrow under his fringe of bangs and crossed his arms over his chest. “Which one?”

“That you’re the orphaned son of homicidal Sparks that went on a rampage, and the only reason you’re an apprentice is the Baron feels sorry for you.”

Gil wanted to laugh–as if his father would give such an important job to someone out of pity. Instead, he shrugged as if the words didn’t bring back loathsome memories. “Close enough.”

As expected from habitual bullies, Tweedle looked even more annoyed that he didn’t get a rise out of Gil, but he recovered quickly. He took two menacing steps towards Gil and shoved a finger in his face. “Baron or no, I don’t care who you are, if I catch you around my sister again-”

Seffie interrupted him with a swat on the back of his head. “Martellus, no. Bad brother.”

She grabbed Tweedle’s rather large and solid forearm and tried to drag him away which had the effect of her trying to move a train until she pinched him in the side.

He didn’t say anything else as he finally allowed his sister to pull him down the hall, but he did smack Gil’s head into the wall one last time for emphasis.

Gil rubbed the back of his head as he watched the von Blitzengaard siblings round the corner then glanced at Anevka. She had her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry about that. My family is–embarrassing.”

“Aren’t they all?”

She looked at him through her fingers then dropped her hands with a dry laugh. “I guess you’re right and my family has the market on humiliating twisted branches cornered.”

“I don’t know–Seffie seemed okay.”

“Well, you don’t know her like I do,” she said with a grin. “Come on, there’s still time before the summit reconvenes.” Anevka slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, leading him down the hall opposite the way Tweedle and Seffie had disappeared.

Gil looked over his shoulder. “I don’t think we’re supposed to leave the luncheon.”

“They won’t even notice we’re gone. Besides, you’re with me and this is my home.”

Gil had a feeling the Baron would not accept that excuse, but he continued to follow Anevka farther into the castle, memorizing the route just in case.

They took two lefts, a right, went up a flight of stairs, two lefts then right, left, right before going down a very narrow spiral staircase lit by something glowing on the walls. Fascinated, he reached out to touch the substance, but it contracted into itself with a pip causing a cascade of lights going out up and down the stairs.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Anevka laughed. “Don’t worry–they’ll light back up if we’re quiet.”

Sure enough, the walls began to glow softly a moment later until they were back at their original brightness. Gil leaned closer to get a better look; this time without touching. “It’s a fungus–that glows.”

“Pretty, isn’t it? It grows in the mines all around Balan’s Gap–the miners use it instead of gas lamps or candles with the added benefit of it processing just about every toxic substance into oxygen so-”

“No chance of sudden asphyxiation–a light source and air scrubber in one. That’s brilliant.”

Anevka smiled then tugged him along. “Well, I can’t take credit for creating the things, but I did bring them up here and plant them along the walls in some of the lesser used passageways that are too troublesome to keep lit with gas lamps or wire for electricity.”

“This was your idea?’

She ducked her head and despite the green glow, Gil had the distinct impression she was blushing which made him feel a little light headed.

They got to the bottom of the stairs when Anevka suddenly turned to him, eyes twinkling in the shimmery light. “If you like plants, you’ll love the arboretum,” she said, guiding him to the left. “We have hundreds of specimen from all over the world–Mother used to get dreadfully sorrowful during the long winters so Father brought the tropics to her. It’s all very romantic.”

Gil coughed then started choking before nearly tripping over his own feet.

Anevka tried to hide her giggles behind her hand but didn’t do a very good job. “I’m kidding, Gil.”

Gil let out a breath, face blushing fiercely.

Anevka pinched a cheek. "Aren’t you just adorable.”

He tried to smile, but he suddenly felt uncomfortably aware of their isolation. “Where even are we?” he asked after they passed numerous unadorned and presumably locked doors.

“The East Wing or as it’s affectionately called, the ‘Fire Mountain’ Wing."

"Why do you call it that?”

Anevka just smiled as they spilled out into a large, open atrium–the glass dome soaring at least ten meters above them–and covering every wall, a mural depicting the surrounding mountains burning.

“Pretty, huh?”

Gil's eyebrows shot up--'pretty' is not the word he'd used to describe it.

Terrifying, morbid, twisted--those worked better, but he just nodded, not that she was paying any attention to him anymore.

She twirled around the center of the room, face turned up to the dreary sky beyond the glass. "This is my favorite room in the entire castle.

You should see it during the sunrise and set--the whole room is ablaze of reds and oranges thanks to the special glass." Her eyes looked a little on fire themselves when she glanced back at him. "The flames in the murals seem to dance, and you can almost feel the heat."

"Uh, that sounds-"

She continued to dance, oblivious to his awkwardness.

He needed to move things along because Anevka was seriously creeping him out right now. "So, you said something about an arboretum?"

She stopped abruptly then grabbed his hand at a run. "I almost forgot--we don't have much time before we have to get back."

Gil let out a sigh, allowing himself to be dragged along again. This girl was going to give him whiplash, and it reminded him of his father's numerous lectures on the evils of women that Gil mostly ignored because he thought the theories were just his father's way of coping with being bad at relationships. Maybe he wasn't so wrong after all.

A minute later, they dashed under an arch adorned with angels of some sort and through a set of glass doors.

The air inside was humid and you swam through it more so than walked, and everywhere you looked were plants and trees and more plants--the ground, the walls, hanging from the ceiling, growing in planters.

"Wow."

"You like it?"

Gil could tell this was important to her so he nodded, not that it was a lie or anything; the place was amazing.

"Come on, I'll show you my favorite spot." Anevka reached her hand out to him, wiggling her fingers in invitation.

Gil had a feeling he was going to regret spending so much time alone with this girl, but she was nice and a princess so he could hardly refuse. Besides, it was kind of nice having the attention on him for once and not have it involve fists and stolen food.

He pushed those thoughts away, took Anevka’s hand and followed her through the maze of tropical trees and flowers until they came to a clearing near the center where the largest tree towered over the others, its’ branches heavy with long strings of leaves reaching to a little pond at the base.

"This is the best spot for picnics,” she said, flopping onto the ground and patting the soft grass next to her.

Gil scratched the back of his neck as he looked around, unease growing in the pit of his stomach. “It’s getting kind of late–don’t you think we should go back?”

Anevka threw herself back, her red hair splaying around her face, contrasting with the dark green grass. “You know, you remind me of my brother.”

Gil sucked in a sharp breath. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, you know–you’re both concerned with following the rules and being responsible.”

That’s how she saw him? Responsible? Gil mulled that over while Anevka continued to ramble about the garden and what having fun actually meant. He considered how it felt to be compared to Tarvek so easily and cluelessly.

As a kid, he probably would have puffed up with pride if someone thought he was like Tarvek who was smart and resourceful and brave, but what would Anevka think if she’d been on Castle Wulfenbach with them when they were skipping classes and sneaking around in restricted areas?

The thought made him smile–sure, Tarvek was always the voice of reason when they planned their adventures, but he never stopped them and came up with more than his own share of stupidity.

“What’s that grin for?” Anevka asked, breaking into his reverie.

Gil schooled his features. “You really think I’m like your brother?”

She cocked her head, considering the question. “No, I suppose not much–he’s way stuffier than you. He’s always studying and playing by the rules to get ahead. I can tell already that you’re a lot more fun–Tarvek would have never doodled during a meeting.”

Gil hoped his disappointment didn’t show too much.

Anevka didn’t seem to notice. “You’ll see when you meet him later. Come, sit with me.”

She patted the ground next to her, her expression way too innocent to be authentic–Gil didn’t like it. “We really should be getting back,” he said, taking a step towards to exit. “I don’t want to make the Baron mad.”

* * *

Violetta balanced on a branch in one of the great trees in the arboretum watching her cousin and the Baron's apprentice chat. Since she'd been following them, she'd learned his name was Gil, he was lying about being an orphan, had zero experience with girls, probably spent most of his life on Castle Wulfenbach by the awed way he stared at the foliage, and obviously already knew Tarvek even if Anevka seemed oblivious to that fact.

And he was surely keeping other secrets that Violetta was eager to discover. She was tired of people like Martellus always underestimating her. She could do this job--she could be a good Smoke Knight if they just let her try.

Down below, Gil took a step away from Anevka. Violetta swiveled to keep him in sight, her foot sliding from the edge of her branch.  The whole tree swayed and she scrambled for a better grip, cracking several twigs in the process. She finally steadied, holding her breath as Anevka looked around suspiciously then she got up, dusting off her skirt.

"Yeah, you're probably right; we should get out of here," she said, holding her hand out to Gil who reluctantly took it, following her out of Violetta's eyesight.

The girl slowly let out the breath with a groan. "I suck at this," she mumbled, tears filling her eyes while she quickly slid down the tree trunk. "Can't even spy on my own stupid cousin."

She gave herself a full minute to wallow then sniffled and wiped her eyes with the corner of her cloak. She couldn't keep following Gil--Anevka was on to her now--so she left through the opposite door into a darker, cooler corridor that wa only used in the summer months.

Consumed by her thoughts, Violetta almost missed the voices growing louder as she walked towards them. At the last second, she darted into a corner and used a technique to blend with the shadows, staying absolutely still without so much as blinking her eyes until the people passed.

She let out the breath she'd held too long and followed after the three older boys--Martellus; that oaf, Orrik; and one of the assistants brought by a distant uncle controlling a nearly non-existent kingdom in the north. She tiptoed behind them, darting between shadows, trying to keep up--all thoughts of Gil and Anevka fading from her mind at the mystery before her.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Tarvek's voice whispered that this is the kind of thing that would get her killed, but like the real boy, she ignored it as always--Tarvek never had any fun.

They took several turns and staircases, including a hidden one, making Violetta wonder how well Martellus knew the castle when he didn't live here full time--she barely even knew where they were and only did because of the scorch marks on the walls.

This hall led to several abandoned labs. Abandoned by people, at least. The accident that nearly took out a quarter of the wing released quite a few unruly monsters that wreaked havoc for days before they were forced back into the labs where they were left to rot--no one smart came over here anymore. So of course, Martellus was here; he was one of the biggest idiots Violetta knew, and too full of himself to know any better.

Eventually, she got close enough to catch their conversation while Martellus consulted a ring of keys in front of a very impressive oak door covered in more locks than seemed necessary. He was actually going to the labs--idiot.

"Martellus, where are we even going," Orrik whined as he leaned against the wall looking sleepy.

"It's a surprise," her cousin answered, finally finding the first key.

"I don't like surprises," said the other boy who looked a little older than Martellus--maybe in his early twenties and still pockmarked with acne that his scraggly beard couldn't hide.

Three more locks were undone followed by a steel bar across the entire door. "Relax Warner, will you?"

Both Orrik and Warner contained any other complaints as the last lock fell off and it took all of Martellus' strength to pry it open--they didn't look very happy about any of it. The door creaked open, and Martellus stepped aside to let the other two through.

Violetta needed to get through that door but there was no way she'd be able to open it on her own--she needed to think fast. She quickly pried free a chunk of battered wall and tossed down the hall, catching Martellus' attention.

As soon as his head shot up, she bolted for the door using another Smoke Knight technique that was supposed to shield her from view even up close. She'd only learned it a month ago and wasn't sure she could even do it correctly yet, but she skirted past her cousin and slid into the shadows of the room beyond where the other two boys were arguing softly.

Not seeing anything, Martellus closed the door, blanketing them in absolute darkness, causing Warner to squeak in surprise.

"I don't like the dark any more than I like surprises."

Martellus lit a match and pulled a candle from a shelf near the door.

"Oh, shut up," he commanded, shoving between the other two towards a dark set stairs at the far end of the room--these led to the labs in the bowels of the castle.

The three were silent as they descended which made it harder for Violetta to follow without being heard. When they reached the bottom, Martellus opened another heavy door that led to another staircase--this one only a few steps long. The complaining started up again as soon as they got to the bottom and realized the room was filled with over a foot of water.

"I don't like water," Warner muttered.

Martellus ignored him, marching through the room with purpose.

Violetta hurried to stay within sight of the dim candle but paused at the bottom of the stairs. She had no fear or general dislike of water, but this water had an oily gleam to it and smelled foul--like rotting eggs. The surrounding room showed the obvious signs of the devastation from the explosion and ensuing battle.

Chunks of walls and ceilings poked above the water and broken furniture floated in the boys' wake, but the lab tables along the edge of the room looked sturdy and intact if more than a little worn. Violetta stuck to these, hopping from table to table to stone blocks to barely stable shelves--anything to stay above the water and out of sight.

"What was that!" Orrik yelled suddenly. "Something touched my leg."

Warner glanced around at the mostly placid water. "Don't be ridiculous."

"No, really, I felt it." Orrik's voice continued to rise in pitch.

"You're imagining things--it's just water."

Violetta perched on a crooked chandelier as the boys argued beneath her, but her attention was on the water.

Martellus had stopped as well, spinning slowly to shed his light on the surrounding room. The water glistened green and purple but nothing moved. "Keep moving," he ordered, putting everyone in motion again.

Violetta swung the chandelier enough to hop to a beam hanging at an angle on the opposite wall then to an equally cockeyed shelf that nearly gave out under her weight.

The idiots were making enough noise not to notice her presence much to her relief. They continued through a heavy metal door blown nearly off its hinges into a bigger lab where the main explosion must have taken place by the nearly complete destruction of the contents--nothing was untouched by fire or left unbroken which left Violetta with a lot fewer choices when moving.

"There it is again," Orrik screeched, his voice echoing in the large space and causing everyone to freeze.

Martellus swung the candle in an arc around them showing placid water except where Orrik churned it up with his nervous dancing. "Knock it off, idiot--you're scaring Warner."

"I'm telling you there's something in the water."

Martellus growled in frustration. "I swear, you whine more than my little sister. Now get your heads in the game."

Warner still watched the water warily. "But I heard there were monsters under Sturmhalten, and we are most certainly under Sturmhalten."

"Why are we even down here, Tweedle?" asked Orrik. "I thought you said we were going to work on the plan."

Violetta's ears perked at this new information. A plan? What plan? What were these idiots up to way down here with the monsters other than being monsters themselves? Her mind swirled with intrigue but stayed alert enough for other clues.

"We are," Martellus said, his annoyance growing. "We just need one thing."

"What's that?" Orrik asked, inching closer to Martellus but never taking his eyes from the water.

Martellus fiddled with a dented and rusted cabinet in the corner until he pried open the door with a loud squeal of twisting metal. He pulled out a bottle of iridescent liquid with a triumphant smile stretching across his weasely face.

"And what's that?" asked Warner, peering over Orrik's shoulder to get a better look.

"Just something my great-uncle cooked up--right before he cooked himself," he said glancing around the destroyed lab with a chuckle.

He left the cabinet door hanging open and trudged back towards the stairs, Orrik and Warner muttering behind him. Violetta didn't need to know what was in the bottle to know it was bad news--it was made by someone in her family and locked in a lab destroyed by Madboy experiments and monsters.

What she did need to know was what they were planning on doing with it because her imagination ran wild with the possibilities including plagues and mind control. You just never knew with her family.

She quietly followed them back up the stairs, hiding in a dark corner while she figured out how to slip out without being seen which ended up not being a problem because as soon as Martellus shuffled the others out, he wheeled around and tore Violetta from the shadows.

"You just never learn, do you?"

"Damn," Orrik yelled from out in the hall, "look at the time, Tweedle."

That was enough to get Martellus' attention and give Violetta the seconds she needed to escape in a less violent method than she'd originally optioned for which would have probably led to one less future Blitzengaard heir.

She did a quick twist maneuver with a practiced ease that made her heart pound with glee. Before Martellus knew what was going on, she dropped from his grasp, grabbed the bottle from the pocket in his coat and darted out the door--all Martellus found was the broken remnants of a chair wrapped in a piece of tapestry with a dirty mop for a head.

"Violetta!"

She didn't stop to hear what curses her cousin threw at her--she knew she couldn't outpace him in a foot race which meant she needed to get sneaky. And fast.

[Part 5 ]

#girl genius #girl genius fanfic #gilgamesh wulfenbach #anevka sturmvoraus #seffie von blitzengaard #martellus von blitzengaard #violetta mondarev #sentences #days 29-35 #story: uncalled for actions

[hale-of-stiles-heart]

Hi! For the prompts, how about situation 2 + quote 15?

Situation 2: 2. i’ve been checking you out every time i see you jogging at the park and oh no what are you doing why are you coming over here?? + Quote 15: 15. “I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is.”

Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you like it! (also on ao3!)

Stiles may have had a problem. May. And, of course, by may he meant that he most definitely had a problem and it was progressively getting worse.

It had all started three months prior when he had started to frequent the local public park directly across the street from the sheriff's station where he usually ate lunch. With a gaping four hour hole between his morning history class and his afternoon forensics class, he had decided to start bringing his dad a salad or a veggie burger for lunch.

He always made sure that he spared a few minutes to snoop around his dad's office for any contraband junk food, checking every nook and cranny from between the couch cushions to under his dad's desk. He usually rooted out a few Twinkies, which he promptly threw into the trash can, and a couple packages of Reese's, which he always pocketed for himself.

It was only after he performed his search for junk food that he would hand over whatever lunch he had made for his old man who, without fail, rolled his eyes at him every time. The rest of the officers in the department thought it was hilarious. The Sheriff? Not so much. He just wanted to eat his candy bars in peace.

He always packed himself a lunch as well so he could sit and eat lunch with his dad, hoping to show some solidarity by eating whatever healthy meal his dad ate. Considering how high his dad's cholesterol levels and blood pressure was, he didn't want to tempt him by flaunting a nice juicy, beef burger in front of him while he munched on veggie burgers and carrot sticks.

They spent their time swapping stories about how their day had been so far, occasionally gossiping about who had gotten arrested for shoplifting or yet another DUI. Mrs. Martin was an incorrigible kleptomaniac and Mr. Lahey was the unofficial town drunk, the latter of which proving that the Sheriff was right to remove his sons from his custody a decade ago.

Deputy Graeme would occasionally poke her head in to inform the Sheriff that he had another conference to go to the following week or had a meeting with the mayor, but most of the time she darkened the doorway to tell them to stop gossiping. Stiles would just roll his eyes and ask how her daughter was doing at Berkeley, smiling innocently at the deputy until she cracked a smile and claimed her daughter was doing great.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and the half hour allotted for the Sheriff's lunch break eventually passed. And so, Stiles had to leave to let his dad get back to protecting and serving the good people of Beacon County.

Typically, after eating lunch with his dad, Stiles would simply walk across the street to the park, having roughly two and a half hours left to kill before his next class. He knew from experience that if he went home to relax before class, he would inevitably fall asleep and skip his class altogether.

It was a fate he would rather avoid since his dad wasn't spending thousands of dollars for him to nap. So instead, he would bring a book or a journal or a pair of headphones with him over to the park to help him pass the time until his next class.

His favorite spot was smack dab in the middle of the park, by the huge stone fountain that rose high above the surrounding rose bushes. Rainbows often flashed in the mist from the cascading water that bubbled placidly like some river out in the preserve, only serving to amplify the paradise-like feel of the fountain.

He would spend hours by the fountain, either sitting on the stone lip of the fountain or a bench nearby, letting the sound of the rushing water calm him down. To help the time pass more quickly, he would doodle in the margins of his psychology notebooks or listen to one of his various study playlists as he basked in the warm of the spring sun.

But as much as he loved the park itself and the fountain that had become his go-to spot for stress relief, there was only one reason why he kept coming back every day, even when he didn't have any classes. That distinct honor was one model gorgeous man whom Stiles only knew by the moniker he had given him: Hot Jogger.

He realized the name wasn't all that creative but no other name he had come up with had the same ring to it. Besides, what it lacked in originality it made up for in accuracy.

Because Hot Jogger was just that; the hottest jogger Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. And he had grown up watching Baywatch. (It was still considered a jog even if it was in slow motion, right?)

Hot Jogger was easily the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen with his dark, tousled hair that was almost artfully mussed and gorgeous eyes. He wasn't quite sure what color they were as Stiles had only admired him from afar, but they were dark and intense, set under a pair of thick black eyebrows.

His high cheekbones looked like they were carved in marble by the gods themselves, dusted with dark stubble that boasted a few tiny spots of silver under his chin. Speaking of his chin, he had a cleft in it that was partially covered by his stubble along with his dimples that made adorable indents in his cheeks when he smiled.

And what a smile he had. It was like watching the sun burst through a thicket of gray clouds when Hot Jogger smiled, his beautiful face becoming even more radiant than usual as his lips parted to reveal immaculately white bunny teeth.

Altogether, Hot Jogger looked like he should be modeling for some kind of high-end agency that had billboards plastered all over New York City and Los Angeles and Paris. And that was just because of his face, not to mention his body.

He was around Stiles' height, if anything an inch or two taller than him, but his physique was worlds away from Stiles'. Where Stiles was pale and lanky, he had the most beautiful sunkissed skin and a body that would make any porn star green with envy.

His upper body itself was a work of art, a fact that Stiles only knew because of Hot Jogger's apparent affinity for jogging without wearing a shirt. His shoulders were broad as was his chest that had a light sprinkling of dark hair over it, centered in the very middle of his chest.

A drool worthy trail of hair led down under his waistband from beneath his navel. It ran down over his washboard abs that redefined what a six pack should look like.

He had biceps that looked bigger than Stiles' head, though they weren't overly vascular in the way that many bodybuilders' were. His forearms were lightly haired, as were the backs of his hands that looked oddly gentle despite his intimidating stature.

His legs were masterpieces, as well, his calves well-defined and somewhat hairy, hairier than his arms at the very least. And his thick, muscular thighs looked capable of crushing a man's skull.

But what had really captivated Stiles was Hot Jogger's ass. It was easily the most glorious ass Stiles had ever seen in his twenty years of life, perfectly round and tight looking. Seriously, he was pretty sure that he could bounce a quarter off of that ass and he wanted to fucking worship it.

So, in all honesty, Hot Jogger was singlehandedly the only thing that consistently brought him back to the park. Besides lunch with his dad, of course.

Stiles had started coming to the park three months ago when his spring semester had officially commenced and he had once again become a slave to his school schedule. After sharing a Caesar salad with his dad who had loudly complained about Stiles not letting him have any dressing, Stiles had meandered over to the park.

He had taken a seat on a comfy wooden bench by the jogging path that twisted its way through the park, finding a nice spot in the early spring sunshine, a chill still in the air. He had been tugging a paperback novel out of his bag, glancing up at the sound of a dog barking, when he caught his first glimpse of Hot Jogger. His jaw had nearly fallen off.

Hot Jogger had been doubled over as he tied his running shoes, further along up the path. Normally someone tying their sneakers wouldn't have been very interesting to him but something else had caught his attention: the sight of a perfectly round ass straining against the black nylon of a pair of running shorts.

Stiles had been helpless to resist shamelessly ogling the man's backside, instantly ensnared by the thrall of a great ass. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he ended up actually drooling on himself as he stared. Especially since he wasn't the only one who had been staring.

The mere sight distracted middle aged soccer moms in their yoga pants and Uggs, interrupting their gossiping over Starbucks lattes. They completely ignored their kids who were tumbling around in the grass in favor of ogling the jogger's wondrous ass. Not that Stiles could blame them.

There was a gaggle of girls who looked to be high school aged, seemingly skipping class to go galavanting around town, chattering away about the most recent rumors plaguing the hallways of Beacon Hills High. They froze in their tracks when they noticed Hot Jogger's ass, their faces flushing as they giggled like little idiots.

Stiles had ignored both groups of women who gazed almost predatorily at the poor jogger who was just trying to tie his sneakers. Suddenly feeling guilty, Stiles had averted his eyes, trying to refocus on the book in his lap.

Out of the corner of his eye, Stiles noticed the jogger straighten up and run a hand through his sweat damp black hair. It was then that he first saw the jogger's face and fell face first into a pathetic crush on the handsome stranger.

With high hopes of seeing the unworldly gorgeous jogger again, Stiles returned to the park the following week after eating lunch with the Sheriff. He wasn't disappointed.

Picking a different spot, this time by the fountain that would become his favorite place in the park, Stiles had doodled in one of his notebooks. He had absentmindedly drawn whatever came to mind, from the irises that grew along the jogging path to random nonsensical doodles, while keeping his eyes peeled for the hot jogger.

He hadn't been disappointed. A few minutes after arriving at the park, Stiles caught sight of Hot Jogger across the field, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

He had been wearing ear buds, his phone secured to his upper arm with a black armband that matched his black running shorts that even shorter than the ones he had been wearing the previous time Stiles had seen him. That time, his shorts only fell a little bit further than halfway down his thick thighs, showing off the amazing bulk of muscles that glistened with sweat.

As sure as he was that those thighs could kill someone, Stiles wanted to have them wrapped around his neck, even if it meant he might suffocate to death. He was about ten seconds away from starting a religion in the name of those thighs.

He was also about ten seconds away from coming in his pants. Especially when he just so happened to notice the fact that Hot Jogger wasn't wearing any underwear.

Needless to say, Stiles made sure he added 'go to the park' to his mental to-do list. He didn't always see Hot Jogger when he visited, which was a bit of a letdown, but reasonably he knew that the modern day Adonis had a life outside of jogging half naked around the park.

Unfortunately, today seemed to be one of the days when Hot Jogger was absent from the park.

Stiles had only had a morning class, his psychology lecture that started at eight a.m. sharp and dragged on for two hours, which gave him more time to cook lunch for his dad. He grilled some chicken breast and put it on some whole wheat bread with some tomato and avocado, wrapping it up along with a side of roasted veggies.

His dad had grunted and groaned when Stiles plopped his lunch down on his desk before starting his examination of the office. Unwrapping his sandwich, the Sheriff had insisted that he didn't have any contraband food in his office.

Stiles would have liked to believe his dad but he knew all about his father's predilection for junk food. He ended up finding a mini Reese's cup behind one of the picture frames on his dad's desk.

Feeling rather magnanimous, Stiles had simply sighed and handed the piece of candy over to the Sheriff. He firmly instructed his dad that he was only allowed the one piece, reminding John that he had no reservations about recruiting the rest of the sheriff's department to keep him from consuming any more junk food.

They chatted for awhile, about Stiles' psychology class and some of the calls his dad had gone on earlier, until the Sheriff's lunch break was over. With an extra skip in his step at the prospect of seeing Hot Jogger again, Stiles had made his way out of the station, saying his goodbyes to the deputies on duty.

Embarrassingly eager, Stiles jogged across the street to the park, seeking out a nice spot in the sun by the fountain. Not many people were around, the only others at the park a few elderly women on a bench, preoccupied by feeding some pigeons bird seed.

Stiles had expectantly glanced around a few times in search of Hot Jogger, hoping that he didn't look like some kind of weirdo. But Hot Jogger was nowhere to be found.

Admittedly, he was pretty disappointed, chewing his lip as he scanned his eyes over the park, paying special attention to the jogging path in hopes of seeing Hot Jogger stretching his legs or pausing for a drink of water. But he just shrugged and let out a small sigh, shifting his attention to his cellphone to check his email and his text messages.

He answered a text from Erica about going to a party over the weekend, informing her that he might drop by for a couple hours if nothing else came up. Scott had sent him a text to detail his most recent with Allison, summarizing the plot of the new romantic comedy they had seen. Stiles just replied to his message with a smiling emoji.

With nothing better to do other than go home and laze around watching TV while munching on his own hidden stash of junk food that he kept tucked in his underwear drawer, Stiles decided to linger in the park. It was a bit chilly, winter's frost still hanging over the little mountain town, which explained why park attendance was noticeably down.

Stiles didn't mind, wrapped up in a thick flannel over his Batman t-shirt, nice and cozy despite the cold breeze that rustled the still bare branches of the trees around the park. He considered walking over to the Starbucks situated at the corner for some hot chocolate, but he balked at both the length of the line and the exorbitant price.

Instead, he pulled up an app on his phone, passing some time playing Magikarp Jump. He was about to beat yet another league when something compelled him to look up from his screen.

Across the park, on the jogging path, was none other than Hot Jogger. The mere sight of him, running along the path in a t-shirt and pair of basketball shorts, made Stiles' heart race like he was some kind of Victorian maiden catching a glimpse of her favorite suitor.

Stiles quickly averted his eyes before Hot Jogger noticed him staring, getting caught much more likely without the usual throngs of people all about. He refocused on his game, feeding his Magikarp a couple more times.

But the tempting allure of Hot Jogger was too much for Stiles to resist for very long and he found himself stealing a few peeks over the top of his cellphone. Hot Jogger looked like he had only just begun his run, his hair still perfectly styled rather than messy and wet with sweat, his skin looking dry.

In the pale sunlight, he looked even more ethereal and angelic than usual, bathed in misty light as he jogged along the winding path. Stiles was mesmerized, forgetting all about the phone in his hand as he turned his full attention to the gorgeous god of a jogger.

He didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that he was staring which is why he suddenly became terrified when Hot Jogger turned his head to look directly at him, slowing his pace until he was no longer jogging.

Stiles' throat instantly tightened, making him feel like he was choking, panic clawing through his whole body. In a desperate, futile attempt to hide, Stiles lifted his phone and stared blankly at the screen, his Magikarp drifting aimlessly around its pond.

His mind raced, playing out all kinds of horrible scenarios. He hunched his shoulders and tried not to shudder at the possibility of his own father having to arrest him for some sort of public indecency charge.

Logically, he knew that ogling a jogger was just creepy, not criminal. But that didn't stop the ice cold dread that churned in his stomach at the thought that Hot Jogger was probably heading towards him to pummel his face into a bloody pulp.

"Hey," a voice greeted out of thin air, startling Stiles so much that he let out a loud, embarrassingly high-pitched squeal as he jumped, nearly dropping his phone. Wincing at his own humiliating flailing, Stiles raised his head to look around for the source of the voice.

He didn't have to look very far. Hot Jogger stood by his side, a warm smile brightening his face as he looked down at Stiles.

"Uh, do you mind if I sit here?" He asked politely, pointing a finger at the lip of the fountain to the right of where Stiles was sitting. He dropped his hand and waited for a few moments before scratching the back of his head, tacking on, "If you don't mind, of course."

"Uh, oh!" Stiles mumbled, shaking his head as he slowly processed Hot Jogger's words, belatedly realizing that he should probably respond. Scooting over a few inches, Stiles waved his hand in the general direction of where Hot Jogger had pointed, inviting, "Yeah, man, go for it."

Hot Jogger took a seat with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he did, mussing it until it looked like he had just rolled out of bed. Stiles tried not to notice how good it looked, keeping his eyes firmly planted on his shoes.

"I'm Derek, by the way," Hot Jogger announced, drawing Stiles' attention away from his dirty sneakers. Hot Jogger, or rather Derek, was smiling at him, his dimples visible beneath his dark stubble that was looking fuller than usual.

"Stiles," he responded, smiling back at Derek, desperately hoping that his smile didn't look too forced or fake. His smile became a little more genuine when he noticed the way that Derek's eyebrows furrowed at the sound of Stiles' name.

They fell into silence after the short introductions, awkwardness hanging in the air between them as they looked away from each other. Stiles twiddled his thumbs as he absentmindedly watched a tiny flock of birds hop around in the grass in search of hugs, beyond glad that Derek hadn't approached him to confront him about his creepy staring.

Before the thought had time to finish crossing his mind, Derek cleared his throat. Stiles froze, his thumbs pausing in midair as he braced himself for the worse.

"Um, so..." Derek started, scratching the back of his head again, Stiles noticing the motion out of the corner of his eye. He paused, swallowing heavily and licking his lips, before trying again, claiming, "I've been thinking, uh..."

He trailed off again with a frustrated sigh, piquing Stiles' curiosity. Stiles turned to look at Derek just in time to see him scrub a hand over his face as he muttered under his breath, "I don't know why, but I thought this was going to be much easier than it actually is."

"Everything alright, dude?" Stiles asked cautiously, the sight of Derek looking so distressed tugging at his heartstrings. He nibbled his lip as he threw caution to the wind and reached out to rest his hand on Derek's shoulder, squeezing gently.

It seemed to work reassuring Derek as he dropped his hand onto his lap and turned to face Stiles. Taking a deep breath, he blurted in one rush of air, "Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Stiles had to blink a few times as he tried to process Derek's unexpected, unbelievable words. He opened his mouth a couple times, before closing it, having some trouble formulating a response. Finally, he just asked, "Uh, I'm sorry, what?"

Derek's face immediately fell. The corners of his lips turned down in disappointment, his eyebrows scrunching together.

Realizing that his question could be misconstrued as a harsh rejection, Stiles raised his palms as he desperately tried to correct himself, "Wait, that's not what I meant! I just... I wasn't expecting it."

"Well, it's just that I've seen you around the park for the last few months," Derek explained, keeping his eyes down as he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, showing off a flash of his abs. He was adorably flustered, a flash of red coloring his cheeks as he scratched his chin, reminding Stiles of a shy little puppy who wasn't sure if they are allowed on the couch or not.

"I've been thinking about asking you out for awhile," Derek claimed, a small deprecating smile twisting up the corner of his lips. "But I too nervous. My sister finally told to just ask you already."

"Your sister sounds pretty smart," Stiles remarked with a wide grin, shifting to sit a few centimeters closer to Derek.

"Yeah, she really is," Derek confirmed, nodding sagely. A proud smile stretching across his face, he commented, "Graduated top of her class at Harvard. She— Oh, wait—" he sharply raised his head to look at Stiles incredulously "—Do you mean... You actually wanna go on a date with me?"

Stiles nodded, laying his hand on top of Derek's. Feeling a red blush fill his own face, Stiles smiled up at Derek, trying to figure out a way to tell him about the little problem he had, about his habit of watching a specific hot jogger.

Then again, maybe it wasn't a problem. After all, it had gotten him a date with a veritable Greek god.

#sterek #sterek fic #alternate universe #human au #jogger!derek #runner!derek #college student!stiles #pining!stiles #implied pining!derek #awkward!derek #first meetings #getting together #my fic #fic #dearesthale

[diabolikotaku]

Otome Heroines as Kpop Idols

Yui Komori:

- Lead Vocal

- Religious

- Peace-Loving

- If you give her a hat or something at signings, she’ll wear it for the rest of the day

- Does cooking at dorm

- Powerful & Soft Voice

- Has the most pictures of her laughs paused on the internet

- Basically carries a convenient store with her 24/7 

- mUST PET PUPPER

- Knows the most girl-group songs

- Brings sewing kit with her to fix up last-minute holes in one of the girls’ clothing

- Becomes sadistic during games like Rookie King

- ‘Angel’

- Is willing to free the spider

- Sad that she isn’t allowed to have a pet

- Could rap if she tries, but doesn’t

Haruka Nanami:

- Leader (18)

- Writes the songs (obviously)

- Main Vocal

- Easily embarrassed

- International Sweetheart 

- Does laundry 

- Easily scared (see: J-Hope) 

- Brings blankets to award ceremonies when her group doesn’t go up so that everyone’s warm

- gets lost easily

- Someone collect her

- Knows a lot of idols

- Very calm and happy around idols as the rest of them fangirl

- Will bump into every wall possible

- One time she fell down the stairs

- Featured in ‘We Got Married’ , other members would shut up about how cute she looked with her husband.

- Has her fair share of Oppas and Dongsaeng

- Knows a little bit of English

- wHY ARE YOU SO SHIPPABLE?

Ema Hinata:

- Lead Dancer

- Main Rapper

- Rarely Sings

- Caught playing video games in dressing rooms

- Knows how to deal with full house because of step-brothers

- That awkward moment when you have to do a photo shoot for a collaboration with your younger brother

- That other awkward moment when press think you’re dating one of your step brothers

- Works very hard with choreography 

- Can be savage

- Has a lot of Oppas

- Very flexible

- Small 2-pack

- Always wears sweatshirt/sweaters

- Helps Komori cook

- Slow to Fast rapping jUST LIKE THAT

- Watches Anime on phone

- Is use to being teased (siblings)

- Will run around like idiot

- Meme-like faces

Chizuru Yukimura:

- Main Dancer

- Vocal

- Very Traditional

-Very sweet and supportive of her Hoonbaes

- + Respect for her Sunbaes

- Polite Speech 

- Mom of family

- Mainly wears pink

- Can also pull off Tomboy Aesthetic (just not often)

- Knows older idols

- Can’t pull her from her 2 o’clock drama

- Most people are shocked when she dances sexily

- Like look at that face, she’d give you cookies or something

- Does most chores in dorm

- Okay with sharing room

- Go-to pose is double peace sign

- Gets the most flower crowns

- Photogenic 

Yui Kusanagi:

- Lead Rapper

- Sub-Vocal

- Also Religious

- Very Comedic

- Amazing how much food she can eat

- Manger stares at her

- She don’t give 2 fucks

- Has a little bit of experience with foreign language (Greek/Norse/English)

- Fan of Rilakkuma

- Her voice can go DEEP

- Been in like 3 dramas

- Her non-idol friends are surprise to hear her rap

- It’s funny to see their reaction though

- ‘Fairy’ of the group

- Moderate Aegyo

- When she sings, HOT DAYUM

- Has the most funny moments on the internet

Heroine (Lin):

- Lead Vocal

- Very quiet and timid

- Doesn’t speak much at interviews or program segments

- Speaks when everyone’s doing the intro, when she has to, and the occasional V-live

- ‘That Cool Unnie’

- Literally the Unnie...She’s 19

- Didn’t want to lead tho

- Soft & soothing voice to slow songs

-Can pick up for faster songs

- That one who wears heels all the time

- Awkward tol bean

- Can play piano

- Very caring 

- VERY forgetful

- Only carries phone with her because it’s the only thing she knows she won’t lose

- Savage AF

- Victim of hair-playing

- Did some stuff for a soundtrack in a drama once, it was nice to watch

- Literally perfect in photos

Haruhi Fujioka (yes she’s not otome but I wanted to add her):

- Maknae (15)

- Main Rapper

- CAN’T SING FOR SHIT

- Tomboy aesthetic

- ‘Reasoner’

- Pretty good dancer it there’s a lot of time put into it

- Kill her before you ask her to do an Aegyo 

- Natural Personality

- When she does aegyo, it ends up in a fail because everyone’s snickering at her

- International Host in the house

- Knows fluent English

- Kinda weird when fans recognize her at school, but is respectful 

- Most memes of her on internet 

- Couldn’t act for the life of her

- likes to wear character print snap-backs

- When she was a trainee, she had long hair and when she debuted she had to cut it because someone stuck gum in her hair.

- gets asked out by lesbians

- politely turns them down

- Eyes light up like a Christmas tree if someone gets strawberry cake

Ritsuka Tachibana:

- Sub-Rapper

- Main Vocalist

- Religious

- Aegyo Queen

- Dances for no real reason

- Kinda self-conscious about what citizens say

- “Sorry speak no English”

- Spaces out in English conversations

- Been to like, every bakery in the area for some cream puffs

- Hard to keep in touch with the Lindo because she’s busy

- President of (Insert Boy Group) Fan Club

- Funny to see others react to her performances (Mainly Lindo and Rem)

- Dusts the dorms

- Pretty much has to pick up for some of them

- oHHHH pUPPER!

- Gets late night cravings

- ‘Ritsuka, it’s 3 in the morning. Why are you eating chicken skewers?’

- Has to answer to Lindo if he sees dating rumors made up by reporters that involve her.

Kohana Aigasaki:

- Main Vocal

- Lead Dancer

- CALM YOURSELF WITH THE SUGAR CHILD

- Artsy 

- The one who joined in later

- Leave it to her for MV aesthetics

- Living Aesthetic

- Motivator

- Would sometimes doodle on fan’s hand if they asked (They aren’t the greatest, Flowers are more her forte)

 - Angelo was impressed with her dancing and asked to do a duet with him one day

- Teika loves her voice

- Literally has her own fan club at school

- ‘Happy Virus’

- Child, why do you know like...Every dance?

- Dictionary to Songs

- Most abused in games like Rookie King

- Can break dance moderately

- Puts up flowers in dorm

- Most likely to have less lines :,(

- Comes to know a lot of Sunbaes

(I’m so bored, you cringing yet?)

#kpop #girl group #anime #otome #yui komori #yui kusanagi #kohana aigasaki #Haruka Nanami #haruhi fujioka #Heroine #ritsuka tachibana #Ema Hinata #Chizuru Yukimura #idk why i made this #au