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harleehazbinfics · 3 months

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Home is where my Heart is.

Chapter 11: Hello Abby!/Hello Rosie! Table of Contents | Profile

Word Count: 2100+

A/N: AAAAAAAA one more chapter to goooo I want to draw them... if i have time...

“So, how was your.. trip..?” I ask them, holding a tray of apple pie by the door only to have Charlie rushing past me and into her room. "Do you want to take this apple pie?!"

“Is she okay?” I ask Vaggie who enters late.

Vaggie sighs and drops the luggage on the floor before she slumps on the couch. Not a moment later, the rest join us. Angel taking a picture of her first before asking, “How’d it go?”

“Horrible, absolutely horrible. Not only did they support our case but..” Vaggie drifts off looking upstairs.

“Well? Spit it out!” Husk asks losing patience.

“Charlie found out I’m a former exorcist,” she confesses guiltily.

There was a heart pause before they screamed and tackled her. Bombarding her with questions. I mean.. I did kinda think of it, but it was still surprising. I hand them the pie before setting my eyes on the bag they brought with them move from the loud noise.

“Uhh, Vaggie dear. I think your bag just move,” I alerted her.

“Did you smuggle some puppies?” Niffty asks excitedly.

“God, I hope not,” Husk grumbles.

Vaggie lets out a groan before getting up from the floor and zipped open their bags. We were greeted to the sight of fluffy feathery wings instead.

“YOU BROUGHT A BIRD!” Niffty shrieks trying to pick it up. However, it wasn’t as small as we thought it was when a head popped up from the ball of feathers, making Niffty scream and hide behind Angel startling him.

“Uhh, hi?” the person greets awkwardly trying to smile.

“What the fuck?! Why is there an angel in our bags?! How the fuck did you even squeeze in there?!” Vaggie screams holding the girl’s shoulders. “Oh shit, we’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d stop shaking me first,” she responds with a laugh dizzy from from Vaggie’s actions. She shakes her head comically to clear her head and replies, “I heard that Heaven let in some folks from the Devildom, and I wanted to talk to you! So, I waited but then you arrived all angry, so I just hid in your luggage instead.”

Vaggie makes a face trying to comprehend the girl’s train of thoughts that led her here, with a hand in the air as if trying to say, ‘That doesn’t sound logical.’

The girl sighs and confesses, “Truth is, I wanted to come down here and find my parents. I’ve searched heaven for years and I didn��t find them. So, I took my chances here.”

Then at realization, I drop and knelt in front of the girl turning her head to face me. With tears in my eyes, I whisper, “It is you. It’s you! I missed you so much!”

“Mom!” she cries burying herself in my hug.

Around us another round of scream’s echo in the room unable to process the series of events that happened back-to-back. After calming everyone down and settling them down on the couch while Vaggie, Abby and I stood in front of them, somewhat like a class presentation.

“You’re a former exorcist?” Angel starts.

“Where’s your wings?” Niffty asks.

“I don’t have—”

“Did you ever think maybe she's sensitive about her lack of wings, just like her lack of tits?”

“Yeah. Where are your tits?” Niffty asks tugging at her shirt.

“sigh Any other questions?”

“Who’s the kid?”

“I’m Abigail Calliope. Daughter of Alastor and Miledy Calliope, and I’m not a kid!” Abby huffs.

“How old did you die anyway? You look pretty young though.”

“20. I got into an accident while volunteering,” she explains.

“Figures how you got into heaven. Kinda crazy how that batshit crazy radio demon has a daughter though,” Angel gestures with all four hands.

“You said it,” Husk murmurs downing a bottle of whiskey.

“Well, I did a lot of convincing,” I answer brushing Abby’s hair off her face. “I don’t regret a single thing.”

She gives me a smile before we see a green flash coming from upstairs. ‘My crazy husband did it,’ I thought in awe, getting the princess of hell to get a deal with him was surprising given that she was so on-guard around him.

“Who’s that?” Abby asks turning to me.

I give her a grin and answer, “Your father.”

Her eyes lit up finally getting to see her father after decades. Charlie and Alastor comes down and finds Abby. Surprised that an angel was here by herself.

“Who is—?”

“That can wait. I think you guys have something planned, we’ll talk on the way!” I say pushing Charlie out the door, Alastor and Abby behind us. I look behind me and find Abby being shy looking away from Alastor, while Alastor was eyeing her intently still not recognizing her.

“Wait! We can’t have her walk around the city with that look!” Charlie stops us, then turning to Abby. She casts a spell changing her clothes into a blue dress that was trendy these days along with demon horns headband.

“Your wings, dear,” I tell her which she immediately hides away.

“Sooo, who is she?” Charlie asks with Alastor next to her.

“When you came back from your trip, this little troublemaker slid into your luggage and travelled to hell here with you,” I say nipping Abby’s nose. “This is our daughter, Abigail.”

“Pleasure to meet you! Quite the please!” Abby greets with his father’s cadence shocking the both of them.

“I just went through a massive sense of déjà vu,” Charlie says holding her head before shaking Abby’s outstretched hand.

“Goodness! Sunshine! Look how much you’ve grown!” Alastor exclaims lifting Abby in his arms. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful lady.”

“Dad! I missed you so much,” she excitedly screams hugging her father which he welcomed with a gleeful laugh.

“Youuuu have a daughter???” Charlie drawls in shock pointing at Alastor who put down Abby.

“Is it that surprising?” Alastor says petting Abby’s head.

“YES!?” Charlie yells.

“How about we head to Cannibal Town now. We’re kinda wasting time now,” I say leading them down the road. “Isn’t this fun? We look like family!”

“What? Why are we going to cannibal town?” Charlie asks, Abby looking around confused and disturbed by the sights around her, before we arrived the quaint little town.

“There’s a friend of mine I think you should meet. It’s also a good opportunity to introduce Abby to her too!” Alastor says escorting Abby and leading in front of us.

“In Cannibal Town? But it’s, it’s… surprisingly nice here,” Charlie says changing her mind.

“Right? We actually have a residency here. We try to come by when we can. Reminds us of home,” I explain to the girls.

“Isn't it though? and it's all thanks to a very special someone,” Alastor says opening the door for us.

We see Rosie attending to her costumer before she notices us by the entrance, “Oh, my, stars! Do my eyes deceive me? Alastor. Alastor! Where have you been??? These halls really lost some of their sparkle without your lively presence and—," she notices me and says, “Miledy! Sweetheart! You haven’t called me in weeks!”

She glances the girls beside us and comments, “Oh. Who's this ya brought with you? Come now, Alastor, she's much too young for you! Oh I'm just kidding. I know you're an Ace in the hole.” I coughed a laugh at her, which she appreciated that someone got her joke.

“A what now?”

“But where are your manners mister? Introduce us why don't you?”

“Ahh, yes. Charlie, Abigail, this is Rosie, the most darling, delightful and dangerous Overlord this side of the Pentagram!” Alastor introduces Rosie.

“Oh! Always such a charmer.”

“And Rosie, it's my pleasure to introduce you to princess Charlie Morningstar. Daughter of Lucifer and heir to the throne of Hell!” Alastor pushes Charlie, then Abby, “and last but not least, this is Abigail Calliope, Miledy and I’s pride and joy!”

“How do you do?” Charlie greets nervously with a wave, while our daughter happily returns their high energy.

“Well, well! isn't this a regal surprise! Come in! Come in! Can I offer you somethin' to eat? I'm sure I have a leg around here or somethin'. Oh, what am I thinkin'? Small thing like you? You're probably watchin' your figure! How bout some nice pinkie fingers instead?” Rosie offers a box to the pair.

“Um...No. no, thank you, though,” Charlie says refusing for the both of them.

“Oh look at you!” Rosie gushes patting both of their heads, “so polite! Alastor, you could learn a thing o' two.”

“Well, sit down. Sit down. Tell Auntie Rosie what she can do for you. Ya know, Alastor. I got a premo-connect on a guy with about eight blocks of territory and not enough goons to run it. Prime pickin's for a deal to be made, my friend.” Rosie tells Alastor making a gesture.

“What does that mean, mom?” Abby asks me while we stood behind Charlie as they talked.

“Here in hell, demons grow their power by accumulating deals, these deals could be anything but the ultimate price they pay is their souls,” I explain to her, “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Abby. I know how drastic of a change this will be, so if you decide to go back to heaven, we’ll help you.”

She hastily shaking her head, refusing the suggestion, “As fun as it is there. It didn’t have you or dad,” she replies sincerely making me let out a sigh of relief then hugging her.

---later

“Now, fair warning. This group sticks together. So, in order to convince any of them, you'll need to convince all of them. And there's one in particular—" Rosie pauses thinking of the appropriate word.

“Uuuugh, Susan,” Alastor states in distate.

“Susan, who's a bit of an... uh—”

“Ornery old bitch?”

“That! She's tough, but win her over and the rest will be easy as pie. Ready?”

“I guess.”

Charlie goes off into an unenthusiastic speech, making me internally cringe paired with how the cannibals strongly reacted against her.

“FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH!” Charlie screams flipping Susan off.

“Welp. Okay everyone! We’ll be back after a brief intermission!” I call over the microphone while Rosie drags a huffing Charlie backstage. “Any song requests?!”

While I was singing for the crowd while Charlie and Rosie sorted themselves, in the corner of my eye I see Alastor and Abby talking.

“I almost forgot how wonderfully mom sang,” Abby states looking at her mother in awe.

“Definitely one you grow to love even more with each and every song,” Alastor adds.

“Absolutely! I kept every recording I could get my hands on,” Abby replies enthusiastically.

Alastor laughs and tells her, “I heard you also kept old recordings of my radio shows.”

Abby blushes and confesses, “I was still young when you left so, I got every recording I could find just to remember how you sounded.”

Alastor sighs and give a small smile and pets her head, “I won’t go anywhere this time.”

Abby smiles and hugs his dad. Just then Rosie and Charlie come back looking better. I stand with my family while Alastor hands her his microphone. While we watched her sing more confidently than earlier, catching everyone’s attention. Abby looks at her amazed how she got them to join her.

“They're dancing along. They're singing her song,” Rosie sang her hands clasped together.

“Surprised? Why, I knew she could do it all along,” Alastor and I sang together.

“She's bound to pass the test as Princess of Hell. Like her Daddy she is madly power-fell!” we sang and danced together, making Abby gush at how we blended our voice together.

“She's filled with potential that I could guide,” Alastor looks at Charlie sinisterly.

“I concur!” Rosie and I sang slinging our elbows with Alastor.

“Stick with her, you'll be on the winning side.”

We lead the Cannibals to the hotel where we meet up with Vaggie who brought the weapons with her.

---later

We take Abby to our room where she immediately notices the forest, “Oh! This looks like the cabin we had.”

“Well, a replica of it,” Alastor says taking off his coat and putting it on a hanger in a closet.

“How was your first day here?” I ask her, pulling her to sit with me by the fireplace.

“It was definitely something,” she laughs off nervously, “But aside from the vulgarities, it seems like fun. And, I want to work here, at the hotel. Though I’m... different, I want to help sinners redeem themselves and reach heaven. Is… that okay?”

Alastor and I share a look before giving her a smile, “Of course it is, Sunshine. Why wouldn’t it be? We want you to do whatever you like, you’re free to do so. We’re family.”

Tears form in her eyes and drip down her cheeks, we gave her a big hug to comfort her. Finally, a family again.

TAGLIST:

@marxo5, @whaatttlaufey, @froggybich

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin angel dust #hazbin charlie #hazbin husk #hazbin vaggie #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x oc #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #home is where my heart is #hiwmhi #harleehazbinfic

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alixlives · 4 months

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for the tk prompts thingy lee!husk w 11 and ler!angel (/nf!)

11. “Can I tickle you?”

eueudhfhsjfhd this is my first time writing for any hazbin hotel characters pls be nice🙏🙏

this can be viewed as either platonic or romantic !!

“Hey, whiskers~!” Angel says as he approaches Husk, using that same tone and smirk that Husk swears he hates so much. Husk gives the spider a look of disinterest and annoyance as he continues cleaning a, currently, empty alcohol bottle.

Angel does not care.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me whiskers?” Husk sighed.

“Get over it, pal, cause I ain’t gonna stop.” Angel grinned smugly at the groan he was given as a response. “But I’m not here to flirt with you today.”

Husk almost cheered aloud, his curiosity stopped him.

“Okay then.. Why are you over here?” Husk set down the bottle he’d been cleaning. “You’re not just gonna get drunk and bitch about your job to me, are you?”

It’d been a little while since Husk and Angel actually became close. They learned a lot about each other in this time.

And theres one that Angel doesn’t like to leave Husk alone about.

“Can I tickle you?” Way to be straightforward, Angel.

The spider had a small yet mischievous smile on his face.

“I swear to fuck,” Husk mumbled to himself. “Why?”

“It is very adorable when I tickle you. Y’know, your laugh, the way your wings flap, and the way that tail.. thing.. wags which tells me that you like it.. I could go on as to why. Now will ya answer my question?” Angel leans forward with his elbow rested on the table, and his chin placed on his palm.

Husk blinked, heat rising to his face. His tail flicked, and he nodded.

“Fuck yeah! Come here!” Angel practically jumped over the counter and tackled Husk down. The spider wrapped him in a tight bear hug with his top set of arms, and used his second set to scribble all over Husk’s stomach, immediately eliciting loud laughter.

“See what I mean? You’re just too cute when you’re being tickled, I don’t think I can handle it.” Angel grinned at the sight of Husk being a mess of laughter. He’d never get tired of it.

“Shuhut uHUP!” Husk couldn’t muster up much of anything to say. He squirmed in Angel’s grip, though his attempts at escape were fruitless as the tickles had weakened him. It didn’t help much that the hug that confined him has trapped his arms, causing incapability to defend himself.

“Aww, are you embarrased, whiskers~? Can the kitty not handle some little tickles~?” Angel teased, a shit-eating grin on his face as he extended his third pair of arms and started squeezing Husk’s hips.

“AhaHANGEL! Dohon’t- FUHUCK!” Husk kicked his legs out a little, but Angel quickly put that stunt to an end by trapping Husk’s legs with his own.

“You tryin’ to hurt me there, whiskers?” Angel raised an eyebrow.

“Noho! Fuhuck off!” Husk tried to protest, and began to squirm a little more intensely than before.

“Hm. For that, I oughta—“

“Well, this is certainly an interesting sight!”

The sudden comment startled both demons on the floor. Angel stopped what he was doing and whipped his head around as he let go of the demon below him; both him and Husk recognized that radio-filter voice anywhere.

Alastor.

Him and that stupid fucking grin.

“How much of that did you see!?” Husk panicked, scrambling to sit up.

“Just about all of it, Husker. I was alerted by the sound of your yelling and wanted to investigate the source of it. And it appears it is just innocent fun!” His tone was quite cheerful, though it almost always seemed like that. “It is quite entertaining to watch, though I’ll spare your last bit of shame and leave the room so you may continue your fun.”

“..Thanks?” Angel watched, confused, as Alastor walked away with his hands behind his back.

“You’re welcome, my dear!” The radio demon called out as he left the room.

“Well, where were we?” Angel turned back to Husk with a smirk.

Husk’s laughter soon echoed through the room once again.

#strangleetomz #hazbin hotel tickle #ler!angeldust #lee!husk #sorry i just had to include alastor. i could not keep the demons at bay /j

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azlan-snow · 13 days

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RadioBelle Fanfic

Chapter 11

(Alastor’s POV.)

After our debacle, we went our separate ways. Waking up to the sound of gunshots wasn’t fun either. I teleport out of bed, wearing my usual red suit-piece to see the actor and cat fighting against someone. “What is this preposterous mess?”

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious snakes by speedily as he flees from the scene.

“From whom?”

“We don’t fuckin’ know! They just showed up here!” Husk fired off a couple explosive cards at the perpetrators as he shouted.

“Step back everyone. I will handle it.” Everyone immediately cowered away from fighting and fled. I began to shift forms. “Looks like people need a reminder of why I am here.” But I never get the opportunity to. Charlotte places her hand on my shoulder and looks into my radio-dial eyes.

“You’ve already done this. My turn.”

“Charlotte, are you sure? You’re the one always talking about how they are your people.”

“Yeah? Well, they should have thought about that before pissing me off by waking me up with an explosion.” She walks off and shuts what’s left of the doors behind her, preventing anyone from seeing the fight.

“Why the fuckin’ hell did you let her go there by herself, you retard!” Angel pinned me in his grasp, face filled with anger.

“She forbade me! What did you expect me to do? She’s the princess. And I suggest releasing me before I get angrier than I already am.”

“Whadda mean she forbade ya?”

“She told me she would take care of it. Then walked out and shut the doors.”

“Weird. Are ya sure it was the princess we know and cherish?”

“Quite. She still smelled of alcohol when she grabbed my shoulder.” Just then, the doors opened and Charlie entered, encased in blood.

“What the FUCK happened to you?” I ran over to her, looking for any injuries.

“Relax, Al. It’s not mine. Besides ,if it was, the wound would have already healed.”

“That’s not the point darling. What HAPPENED.”

“I beat them up. No biggie!” She smiled proudly.

“Wow, toots. Didn’t think ya had it in ya!” Angel patted Charlie on the back, congratulating her.

“Thanks Angel!”

“I have a question,” Husker says approaching her. “Where are the bodies? Do we need to bury them or anything?”

“Nope! They’ve all been incinerated!” Her smile was similar to mine: Psychopathic.

“Al, I think you’ve rubbed off on our sweet princess. Put her back t0 normal. Please. She was better when she wasn’t a psycho.”

“That might be best.”

#alastor #hazbin hotel #charlastor #charlie morningstar #radiobelle #hazbin alastor #fanfic #angel dust #hazbin hotel husk

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poppy-metal · 3 years

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cw under the cut: mommy kink, kinda sub!eremin at the beginning but DO NOT BE FOOLED WE KNOW WHO I AM. girlboss reader

thinking abt househusbands eren and armin visiting their milf girlboss on mothers day, because they know she's overworking herself 🙄 as always

her mouth popping open in suprise when she lets them into her office. armin is already pouting, carrying takeout and eren has a hard line to his jaw. immediately you know you messed up somehow, apologizing for working so late. eren is all huffy about it, though armin says "s'okay, mommy, we just missed you." his big blue eyes carving right through your heart.

Its eren who doesn't let you off the hook though. "You know we wanted to spend mothers day with you. We had shit planned and everything, and you didn't even have the decency to answer your phone"

The guilt eats you up immediately, of course. Your two perfect boys having an evening planned just for you and you'd spent it doing paperwork. you drop your eyes when you notice armins chin wobble a little, only being able to mutter "im sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"yeah, we know" eren says, cutting you off. peering at you with those intense jade eyes of his. "still doesn't change the fact that you ruined a perfectly well thought out gift. or gifts, more like"

you blink curiously and armin blushes. "It was rens idea!! we wanted you to come home...we wanted to be ready for you so we wrapped..." he trails off, flustered.

eren finishes for him though, his tone snippy. "while you were hear filing away boring paperwork minmin and i got ourselves all hard for you. wanted you to come home and see us kneeled at your feet. we were gonna dick you down so good, mommy" eren taunts. "armin was gonna eat your pretty pussy for hours and i was gonna cup those heavy tits in my hands and milk them until you cried. we wanted to ease the pressure" he licks his lips as he stares down your blouse. "we wanted to fill our mommy up so good for mothers day. get her pussy all full of our batter and mix up her insides, remind her why we love her"

"but you left us" armin whines, and reaches forward to hold onto the sleeve of your shirt. "is your job more important then us, mommy? more important than me?"

you shake your head furiously and hug armin to your chest. he goes easily. Its then that you hear the lock on your office door click and eren comes up to your other side.

"Its 11:20pm" he says lowly. "I wanted to punish you for being bad. but armin reminded me its still your day. so"

and he pulls you from armin, pushes and walks you back until your ass is propped up on your work desk. "we'll be your good boys until then"

"w-what happens at 12" you ask nervously.

"mommy gets punished!!" armin says sweetly, not so sweet at all. he gets to his knees anyway, and slides a hand up your pencil skirt. "but for now...." and he dips that angelic head between your thighs.

eren chuckles when you gasp and jerk at the first touch of armins tongue against your clit his "mommys so naughty. no panties. no good at all.." muffled as he begins to lap at you

"happy mothers day" eren husks in your ear, fingers undoing the buttons on your blouse. "for now, anyway. after fourty minutes...."

his hand cups one of your tits, squeezing. "you're gonna give us both early fathers day presents. no more bad mommy. just a brat getting fucked by her daddies"

#poppy speaks #eren jaeger smut #armin arlert smut #eren jaeger x reader #armin alert x reader #tw: mommy kink

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slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

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Jack Bass x Younger!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Bass's.

Notes:

I have no idea when this is supposed to be set. Just go with it.

I have two things to say about Jack in this gif, though. 1. Does he not know how to carry a tray. And 2. I love this statement, here. Its like 'Bart's Dead, Chuck. I can barely contain my joy, Chuck. Its taking all my willpower, Chuck, to keep a monotonous expression. Also Chuck I am carrying a tray, do you see this?'

Plot: Bart Bass decides to be his creepy fucking self (Not that Jack is exponentially better in any way but whatever) towards you, Chuck's best friend- but thankfully, Jack accidentally walks in on the scene and gives you a get out of jail free card.

Good old 'lesser of two evils' shit. I love stuff like that.

Warnings: BART BASS being predatory, and a bit of age difference (You and Jack. I'm going by actors ages though so there's only a, like, 11 year age gap between him and Chuck which is not that bad if you ask me). Sexual references.

~~~

Chuck looks from his phone, that's flashing Blairs name, to you and your big, wide eyes and lips mouthing 'Don't you dare', then to his father quietly tapping away on his phone on the couch a few feet away... then back at his phone.

"Charles- " You hiss, prepared to threaten his very existence but he cuts you off first- slipping off the bar stool beside you and heading for the hallway.

"I'm going to go to the bathroom."

Why am I friends with him again!? You think, but stay quiet and hope that Bart doesn't realise that you're back there despite having said hello to you earlier when he came in. You think, if you stay quiet like a mouse, he will forget your existence and keep texting until Chuck gets back- although, who knows how long he and Blair can go on for.

Depends what its about, honestly. If its about revenge or espionage... well, the conversation could last quite some time.

Should I just leave?

The impulse to run away is a strong one, as you sit there with your cheeks heating up and you start to feel nauseated. You never liked Bart Bass, from the moment you met him. Before that, actually. You had heard Chuck talking about him to Nate before you even became friends with them, and none of what you heard was good. And then you did meet him, one day when Chuck invited you over to do a school project. Or 'school project' as he so obnoxiously put it. You really did end up just doing a school project, though. Hence your friendship nowadays. Bart was creepy towards you even then, at 16 with terribly died hair and the wrong eyeshadow.

You've been very careful since then to never be alone with him like this. You would talk to him at parties if you were forced to, say hello to him when Chuck had you at his place and the man walked by, but that is the extent of your communication with the creep. Always, always, someone would be around. Chuck, mostly. But also staff, or Nate, or random fundraiser ladies, or Jack who Chuck the bastard never left alone with all willy-nilly like this, unfortunately, or Lily, or literally anyone else possible on the earth.

You've even hidden away in the men's bathroom, which is disgusting no matter how expensive the restaurant, with Nate before to get away from this man when Chuck once ditched you both at a dinner with him. And that's the story of how you got your first kiss, too, and it was from Nate Archibald. Hell yes.

That's how much this man makes you want to grab your bag and flee.

But you don't. You stay glued to your seat, super still, listening only to the tap-tap-tapping noises that Bart makes and the bump-bump-bump noises your heart is making right into your throbbing ears.

Until it stops.

Not the bump-bump-bumping, oh no. The tapping. And, nightmarishly, it's replaced by a groan and footsteps coming towards your turned back.

"Y/N," As soon as he says your name, his hands fall on your your shoulders and you literally jump under his touch. Shit- Shit- Fuck- what's happening- "I've been meaning to speak with you recently but Chuck- ah. Well you know him. He refused to share with me your telephone number. But I knew you'd turn up here at some point, so not to worry."

"Uh... right." You cant even force yourself to be your normal, cheery, polite self in this position. You just want him to get. off. of. you.

"Did you want a drink?" He asks, in that possibly cheery (But only because its slightly louder then his usual husk level) but mostly still scary voice he uses to convey emotion, letting go of you thankfully and rounding to the other side of the bar. You shake your head, though. He raises his brows, picking out a scotch for himself. "You don't drink? Shocking, seeing as you're friends with my son."

Oh I drink. You think, giving him a shrug. Just not in situations like this one. Also, what must he think of Chuck? Jesus Christ. For sure, your boy likes debauchery but what's wrong with that?

"Well, I like that." Bart pauses before pouring his drink, to appreciate you. "Mature."

Damn it. It makes your skin absolutely crawl.

"So... " You take a deep breath, tucking your hair back behind your ears rather then ruffling it back like you usually would to get it out of your face- lest that be recognised as some kind of extremely subtle form of flirting. God, fear makes you think weird things. "What did you want to discuss?"

"Oh- Just, your future. Where are you going to school? Will you be sticking close to us?"

Us? US? No, I'll be far far away, from you.

You don't really want to tell Bart where you're going to be going to school, because in your fear addled brain you know that that will just lead to 'Which campus?', or 'Where will you be staying?' and you really don't want it to go there.

You're just taking another, shakier deep breath, when the front door of the apartment opens and shuts loudly and set of feet trample down the hallway towards you. Immediately total relief plashes over you and you wipe your face. Oh, thank god.

Jack Bass appears in the doorway to the living room, looking as put-together yet somehow simultaneously still totally relaxed, as always, and forces aa polite smile onto his handsome face. "Brother. Y/N? Its good to see you."

You have no idea. "Good to see you too Jack. Uh- Chuck's in the bathroom."

"Thanks. For that... enlightening, information, Y/N. I needed that." You cheeks flare up in embarrassment, but ultimately you just roll your eyes as Jack flashes you a subtle wink, and turns promptly to his - much, - older brother. "Bart."

The older brother in question looks less then pleased at his baby brothers appearance in his home. Right now. And he possibly isn't thrilled about that little wink, either. Like you two are in on some kind of joke together. "Jack... What are you doing here?"

"Simmer down, bro. Just visiting." Even you know that that excuse is weak, but anything that comes out Jack's own monotonous voice right now is blessed where you're concerned so you certainly don't say anything. Or make any faces, which would be more appropriate. "Y/N, I don't think Bart-man here's too happy about my presence." Hm, no. You'd have to agree with that observation- not that you've looked up at Bart since Jack came in. You wont risk it. Jack glides through the room with the practised grace of a man who's lived 3 quarters of his life in suits and the other, happier quarter in board shorts, and ends up right next to your chair, an arm resting on the bench in front of you.

If you weren't already so nervous about Bart, you would blush about Jack.

"At least tell me you're glad to see me."

You grin, which is less forced then you thought it would be prior to trying it. Damn, he's good. You think, realising he just swepped in here and made you comfortable in less then 50 words. "Always, 'Uncle Jack'."

"Oh," He groans, like it physically pained him to hear you tease him like that. A tiny smirk even slips through his usually emotionless - well, not emotionless. He has one standing colour, that being sly, - stone statue of a face. "'Uncle Jack'- Please, stop. I'm barely a decade older then you."

That's enough to make anything else possible, inappropriate. Unfortunately. "Hey, I said I'm glad to see you." You wink, a bit sly yourself. "Count your blessings."

His grin widens a bit, like the dangerously charming Cheshire cat-type that he is. Genes that Chuck inherited, clearly, if his track record with girls say anything at all, but that Bart obviously missed out on. "You've got a point."

"She's a remarkable young woman." Bart pipes up, making your stomach tie itself up in knots again, and you immediately revert your gaze to your lap. Remarkable young woman... you want to barf. "Who, I was actually having a conversation with before you burst in here, unannounced." He takes a slow sip of his drink, then mutters. "And uninvited."

"Well that's great." Jack straightens up, clapping his hands together and finally showing his teeth in a smile. They're really freaken white, compared to his skin, deeply tanned by the hot Australian sun. "A visit would be kinda uncomfortable without a conversation; I'll join. I can converse with the best of 'em, Bart. I assure you."

"It was private." The old man sneers, thinking that he's got the upper hand on Jack, and all you can do is hope to god that he's wrong.

Jack turns his head back to look at you, and you meet his gaze tentatively. Your eyes scream, 'Please don't leave me alone with that guy'. He promptly looks back to Bart. "Well Bart why don't we ask the lady in the room what she wants? We are gentlemen here aren't we?" Then Jack makes a face, all crumpled up and unsure, for a moment. "Err. Well actually... 'gentleman' might be a bold faced lie. We'll ask anyway. Y/N! Do you mind if I weigh in here?"

"Not at all." You say quickly, flashing a tiny, thankful smile. He gives you another wink- this time actually subtle. So Bart didn't see it. Your smile gets a little bit bigger, relaxing. He's got you.

"Great." You watch him pull out the stool beside you, that Chuck - who has still not returned from his phone call with Blair. You assume some, likely cruel vengeance must be involved. Possibly involving that Humphrey guy, - had vacated and settles down in it. He then sets his arms firmly on the bench and looks up attentively at Bart, not breaking eye contact with him. Boy these Bass's like their stare downs. "So?" He prompts, expectantly. And a little arrogantly- a Bass speciality that you truly don't mind at all. "What's on the agenda, today?"

Bart glares heatedly, back.

Throughout the awkward discussion between the three of you, which your good friend Chuck has yet to return to discover - at this point you're resigned to him having climbed out the window and scaled the building probably, - , Jack constantly, skilfully changes the subject for you whenever Bart rears to close to somewhere uncomfortable. He makes jokes that make you laugh, he nudges you with his elbow at times - but never touches you any more then that, although you honestly wouldn't mind it if he did, - and takes the attention off you a lot. At times you truly thought you saw steam come out of Bart's ears.

When finally Bart gives up and excuses himself, saying he as an early dinner with Lily, you feel exhausted and relieved. After the door swings shut behind him, you cover your face with your hands and deeply sigh.

"So, what was that about? You looked like a trapped mouse. I recognise that look, I invented that look." You pull back slightly from your hands and glance over at him, to see him thoughtful for a moment. "Well, not by making it. By... causing... it... Either way, it was not good." He shakes his head, taking a sip of his own drink - scotch, - that he made Bart pour for him; Raising his eyebrows at you for an explanation over the rim of the glass.

Jack's always been great, like this. Even when he was horrible, he was the lesser of two evils between him and Bart. Good for a laugh and quality eye candy in a pinch- and that counts for a hell of a lot when it comes to surviving Bart Bass and the Upper East Side. And he had the power and pull of an adult, but knew what the hell was going on like one of you.

So he always made you feel at ease.

You ruffle your hair back, and sigh, straightening your back finally from their hunched over position they live in when you're uncomfortable and pushing back your shoulders. "He was just, saying some weird stuff... and Chuck disappeared to talk to Blair." At that, Jack nods in total understanding. Like ah, yeah. Got ya. Finally, you shrug. "He just makes me really uncomfortable. No offence, but I hate your brother."

As you watch Jack's eyes don't even flicker; He's totally on board with what you've said. Then he finishes the rest of his scotch in one gulp. "Ahh- I hate him too."

"As do we all." Chuck's voice suddenly pops up, as he appears in the doorway like Jack had earlier. You have to practice some serious self control so as to not laugh, at Chuck so coincidentally turning up again at the perfect moment to proclaim his hatred for his father. Jack grins back at Chuck coldly, nodding. Yeah. "Anyway, Y/N, I apologise but I'll be having to abandon you. Blair's waiting for me at her, empty, apartment." He pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, in perfect Chuck Bass fashion, and you roll your eyes, grinning. Jack smirks. "But you're welcome to stick around a while and help yourself to the amenities All on my tab, of course. Good to see you again, Jack." Then he pockets his phone and heads toward the door. The second Bass of the day leaves the building.

"Bye, nephew!" Jack waives as the elevator doors close behind Chuck then swiftly turns around back to you, to which you raise your eyebrows. "So, what do we do now?"

"I dunno." Shrugging you grin and turn your stool to angle your legs towards Jack. "When Chuck says those magical words 'All on my tab'," Those words, oh; You speak them with just as much raw, breathy sexual arousal as the man himself would. As the words demand. 'All on my tab'. Good lord, sex if they were words. "I tend to take advantage."

"An easy girl to please; That's what I like to see." Your cheeks flame up at those words out of Jack's mouth as he turns to look down at the room service menu. Yes, Jack Bass has toed the line, between platonic and flirtatious since the very moment you met the man... but that seemed a little bit more then toeing the line.

And you get a far different reaction to him doing it then you do the other Bass brother.

You don't even really mind the implications of his words.

"You're staying back with me?" You ask, feeling hopeful at the idea.

"Yeah well, I cant in, uh, good conscience," He makes a bit of a show to you, of pressing his hand to his chest totally earnestly as those words 'good conscience' come out of his mouth. "leave you here unguarded in case Bart comes back, can I? Besides, the way you said 'All on my tab'- man, you could sell moonshine at an AA meeting with that voice."

"Ha," You laugh, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. "Well, thanks."

"Oh. Don't thank me. You're just using what uh, your mama gave you. I actually encourage you totally, to do that more often- "

"No!" You exclaim, sighing in exasperation; But there is still a smile on your face you cant seem to shake. "For not leaving, today. When you walked in. It would've sucked if you had, not that I would've blamed you at all."

"Hey, just call me your knight in shining armour." He doesn't look up from the menu, flicking through it. Then turns to you with one of those beach boy/politician, toothless grins of his. "Besides you were automatically, my favourite person in the apartment. I mean, anyone with... uhhh- different, appendages to what I have, instantly gets a one-way ticket access to my rare bouts of chivalry. Now come over here, pick out what you want off here."

You just gape at him and that comment, making him stifle a laugh and return to the menu himself.

Bass's.

#Jack Bass #Jack Bass x Reader #Gossip Girl Jack Bass x Reader #Jack bass x Reader Oneshot #Bart Bass #Chuck Bass #Oneshot #Gossip Girl #Gossip Girl x Reader

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onesunofagun · 3 years

Text

Undeath in the Era of the Hero of Time : 1

aka Seeing the Hero’s Shade in this TP replay shook up all my feelings of agony again and now I’m working backwards from there because I like to hurt myself.

Part One: An Overview of How Fucked Things Are ™

aka The Blood Soaked Hyrule of OoT’s time

Take it as you will, in the Zeldaverse, the colour green has an overwhelming association with undeath.

Sure, sure, life too, I hear you. Farore came down and produced all the living beings that would uphold the law, apparently (specifically not claiming monsters and demons, but that’s another thing). On the surface, that make sense. Forests, lush green fields, prosperity, all of those good things. Green the colour of the most common rupee, green the colour of the Hero’s tunic. Green the colour of magic, and potions that revitalise the body and spirit.

The thing is, revitalising the body and spirit is a flexible idea. To imbue something with new life and vitality can have a lot of implications, especially when you stop talking about the strictly living.

I feel vitality is certainly the best word, not only because of it’s association with life and potency ala the Goddess origin stories, but in the ways that the game uses green itself, such as a measure of both magic and stamina. Green is the colour chosen to represent the unlocked potential within young Heroes.

Vitality specifically refers to a state of being strong and active, and it also refers to the continuance of something to exist. That’s a great thing for plants, or economies, or a potion taken by a young Link who’s swung their sword around or fired off a spell one too many times and feels a little low.

But the dead, though?

As it happens, Hyrule is absolutely littered with human remains, in no small part due to the very recently ended civil wars.

The Civil War, if you need the reminder, is described as a time when the many races of Hyrule were divided and each focused on establishing dominion over the Sacred Realm (because Triforce). I touched on this in my last meta post, but basically, its no holds barred to stop that from happening because if the wrong person gets into the Sacred Realm and makes a wish, it immediately malfunctions.

The criteria for getting into the Sacred Realm and touching the Triforce without royally fucking everything, is basically impossible for anybody not chosen by Hylia.

If you are neither of Hylia’s Bloodline (The Hyrulean Royal Family) or one of her Chosen Avatars (The current incarnation of the Hero), you are not supposed to touch the Triforce. Ever. You WILL be found wanting, it WILL shatter, the Sacred Realm WILL be corrupted by your selfish desires, it WILL unleash and onslaught of mystical influence (reflecting your heart) onto the country.

Now, if it’s Zelda or Link who touches it, that’s fine. Good vibes will pour out. An age of prosperity will ensue. The Sacred Realm is in its default state, a blank and neutral wellspring of magical force.

The game has been rigged from the get go because Hylia still had a job to do. She had to get creative because Demise almost captured the flag, so to speak, leading to the snafu of the Cycle and all that because she cheated at the game, but ultimately Hylia’s task was to guard the Triforce. And that still remains true, for the most part. The Hyrulian Royal Family (and the Shiekah by extension) had to stop at absolutely nothing to win the wars and unify the country, and retain the stasis of the Realm and Triforce, because that’s what their divine orders are.

That’s what they’re supposed to do, ‘the very reason that they’re born’, to lend a quote from King Daphnes. With Hylia on their side by default, they’re willing to do a lot of fucked up things to make sure that happens, ‘for the greater good’.

These dark times are a result of our deeds... -- TP Zelda

In OoT The Sheikah are known as the Shadow Folk. They are heavily associated with death, whether that is caring for the dead’s rest in the graveyard, or working as spies and assassins on behalf of the Royals, or dabbling in various forms of necromancy. Red eyes are an established trait of their people. I will note that, at least from a Japanese point of view, red is often used with the intention of intimidating evil spirits. But it is also a color identified with power and vitality.

So, one could suppose, the Sheikah red eye also symbolises power/control over evil and darkness (spiritually).

That’s a little something that plays nicely with things like the OoT Manga’s explanation of the tear on the eye (and the previous betrayal of the Royal family) and the high probability of a Shiekah faction defaulting during the wars and being banished with other traitors to become the Twili. I know the manga isn’t canon and also SS Impa has a tear, but if you squint, that might be because of her own feelings of personal failure to the Goddess after Hylia’s shedding of her Divinity. You could headcanon that. The existence of the Yiga later in BoTW as a similar happening of division and betrayal lend some more weight to things.

Also, Sheikah who defaulted during the civil war might have even been the ones who actually utilised the Shadow Temple.

Headline: Necromancer ninjas in the process of torturing enough info out of the enemies of the Royal family, who were reportedly seeking the Sacred Realm, decide ‘hey fuck it, let’s take it ourselves’.

That certainly fits into the description of, ‘interloper skilled with dark magic started to appear, seeking dominion of the Sacred Realm’, for me.

Anyway, to the point.

In ostensibly one of the most haunted areas of the game, Kakariko village, we’re treated to the Graveyard and the Royal Family’s Tomb, the Shadow Temple, and the Bottom of the Well. All of these showcase the obvious death and torture that went on, as well as the creepy byproducts of places so saturated with blood, pain, regret, and hatred.

There are skulls in little alcoves on the walls of the catacombs, literally built of bones, who deliver messages to Link. The ones that whisper these messages are all marked by the glowing green eye sockets. Here, the green is used to make the presence of a ghostly sentience inhabiting the skull.

Unsettling. Musty. 4/10 heebie-jeebies.

The Deadhand, giver of childhood trauma that it is, really does its job to hammer home the fact that there has been so many deaths, so much anguish and horror, that those remains can seemingly form into entirely new monstrosities. An amalgamate of undead flesh and nightmare fuel, made up of the body parts of torture victims and the grudges of lingering spirits, seeking to consume the living vitality of whatever comes near-- Link wearing green around the thing might as well be red to a bull.

When defeated in game, it typically drops a small green pot that refuels Link’s magic.

This is a common theme with undead enemies, specifically the ones that are of the zombie flavour. Redeads, Gibdos, Deadhands. All of them generally give up, effectively, distilled magic as a drop item.

Terrifying. Probably smells even worse. 11/10 heebie-jeebies.

Literal torture device. So many people died here, the room has a green tinge to it. It is soaked in the spiritual imprint of the pain and anguish that took place here. Blood sits here looking freshly spilled, despite the civil war ending many years prior and the Shiekah having ‘died out’, save Impa.

Elsewhere in the temple and under the well, blood splatters are darker red and at least have the decency to pretend to be old. This means one of two things:

Impa still has to make sacrifices to the Seal that contains Bongo Bongo, or feeds people to the undead creatures who lurk down in the dark so they don’t wander up. (Cue the gasp of ‘so that’s why she let the Hylians into Kakariko! Every so often one of them goes missing!’)

Which is a fun dark headcanon to play with, but probably not the case.

Or more likely, the residual spiritual energy that the green haze suggests manifests fresh blood in a manner typical of extreme hauntings. For the victims, their hatred and pain persists so strongly, that their blood seeps up from the cracks no matter how long it has been.

Poltergeist shit. Slip hazard. 8/10 heebie-jeebies.

Then there is this. Some people say its just another torture thing, it could have been intended to convey some sort of acid dip. If not torture, maybe bodily disposal. And sure, that’s a reasonable guess.

But it is at the very bottom most cavern of the Well of Three Features, and if it were acid-- for how long the bodies have just been marinating in it-- you can assume nothing would be left of them to stick out. And the fact that all the bodies are neatly spaced, with the arms oddly preserved. They’re presumably like that from lowering bodies in from the wooden beams, the victims may have been tied up with their arms straight upwards.

But, given the Redeads wandering around nearby, I’m pretty sure that’s what this thing does. Make Redeads.

The liquid itself hurts Link, but Link is also alive, and this pool seems to be lacking much of a glow. It’s green, sure, but it’s not exactly teeming with energy. And I think that might be part of its designated purpose-- extracting that green vital energy from living prisoners, draining them until they’re dead. I’m talking juicing people and scooping out the good stuff like the pulp from a really disturbing OJ.

But still steeped in the juice as a corpse, you’re basically pickled in magic brine, so then those gross husks crawl out as Redeads. (Hey, you know what’s handy in wartime? Scaring the shit out of enemy forces by sending some zombies at them. And if they kill them, you’ve lost nothing. If the Sheikah could actually control them? Undead soldiers. Excellent stuff.)

But all the pulpy good stuff is gone, and has been for a while, so most of the bodies in there haven’t pickled in enough magic to reanimate, I suppose.

Human juicer that churns out zombies. Out of juice currently. 6/10 heebie-jeebies.

Now, THIS is active zombie juice, if I’ve ever seen it.

This is the Royal Family’s Tomb, by the way. Note the skeletons, picked clean, missing a lot of bones. And that’s a choice they made, because there are also full skeletons around to find.

There are plenty of Redeads down there, for good measure, so I’m going to assume the skeletons are potential graverobbers who were eaten. If Sheikah can presumably command the dead, then the Redeads down there might actually be a counter measure against thieves. If a thief freaks out in the dark when he realises there’s undead down there trying to eat their face, there is also a good likelihood they’ll trip and splash into this green death. A few seconds of exposure is probably enough to kill the average person, and then if their corpse stews for a bit, you have another Redead.

Their living energy revitalises the goop. Their body becomes bolstered security measures. It’s a self sustaining system.

Horrific but effective. 5/10 heebie-jeebies.

Also, there’s a chance that a couple of the skeletons or one or two Redeads down there are the remains of the Composer Brothers. But they will get their own special part in this series, covering Poes in particular.

But for the moment, let it be noted: their eyes are also that ghostly green.

Poes are spirits that are unable to move on and who have the unfortunate fate, if left unattended, of turning into phantom monsters who forget their human selves and prey on the living. They tend to pop up the most in two places. One, the Kakariko Graveyard, is obvious and somewhat expected. Dead people, lots of lingering spirits, most of them probably Sheikah and Knights of renown who died in the line of duty. Understandable.

So when you apply the same thought to the fact that Hyrule field is the second most common place to find them, you may as well be concluding that it’s an enormous mass grave of war casualties.

We have established that mass quantities of concentrated death, especially earth that is saturated by the spilled blood of strong soldiers and highly skilled warriors (full of life and magic, as it were), can result in creepy shit made from human remains reanimating over time.

Poes share their haunting of the field with these bumpkins:

These hauntings are not the result of Ganondorf, or the corruption of the Sacred realm. They are not a particular curse placed by anybody.

The Poes and Stalfolk are present in the game from the very beginning, and quite normal fare for Hyrulean life. Lon Lon ranch and castle town are walled off for good reason, and the drawbridge raises at night specifically in response to the literal skeleton monsters who roam around at night.

Stalchildren, specifically, seem akin to the Deadhand in that they are not a direct reanimation of any one particular set of remains. Rather, they seem to be mutated amalgamations of various parts. In the case of the Stalchildren, they rise up under the dark of night, a not-quite-human formation of bone and magic. They seem to possess an aimless drive to attack, perhaps possessed still by the orders of the soldiers who died there.

Interestingly, in a somewhat similar fashion to BotW’s blood moon reanimating the fallen monsters (due to the potency of Malice in the land peaking at those times), Stalchildren only seem to be active under the moonlight. They disintegrate when the sunlight touches them, which promotes the idea that they are the bones of the fallen possessed by the ghostly memory of the war.

They also appear to wear raggy leather kilts, which is a feature they share with the related monster, the Stalfos, who are often acting out the part of a soldier as well. Even better, those bastards are actually WEARING GREEN, to boot, which given the history of Hyrulean Knights prior and their uniforms (SS and Minish cap) is pretty self evident.

Stalfos, however, are also confirmed as humans who have died under certain unique circumstance (such as the magical influences of the Lost Woods) and reanimated as a consequence of what I assume is basically magic poisoning.

It could be a bit like an overdose, succumbing under the intense mystical forces at play within proximity to the Deku Tree (which the strong of spirit can resist). It could be a draining effect, maybe even just a gaseous version of what’s happening when people come into contact with the green goo, except extracted by the forest spirits and plants (also possible that the strong of spirit might resist). That could go either way.

The forest absolutely does eat people’s spiritual energy, though. RIP to Grog and Link’s mother. They’re Stalfos now.

"Anybody who comes into the forest will be lost. Everybody will become a Stalfos. Everybody, Stalfos."

Upon killing both kind of Stal, however, the bones rapidly deteriorate into flames.

You guessed it: green.

I’ve already pointed out a BoTW reference already, but to add more context back into this thing about the tie between green and things in Hyrule that refuse to die properly:

That last one is cheap of me I’m sorry but we’ll get to him too

So we have established that green has an overwhelming association with not only life, but states of undeath.

The overview is, things were already pretty fucked in OoT Era before Ganondorf got the Triforce.

On to part 2!

#tloz #legend of zelda ocarina #Ocarina of time #link #zelda lore #zelda meta #zelda theory #zelda theories #zelda discussion #death tw #blood tw #shadow temple #shiekah #stalfos #poes #undead tw #long post #hero of time #hyrulean history

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yourfangirlfriend · 3 years

Text

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter 5.5

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

A./N: 18+ as always.

This took a while to write but may be my favorite so far.

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

Here’s the thing about Eloise: she’s surprising.

That first morning when they met, he had expected her to look away and shuffle out of the lobby, leaving him and Gabby to the post-coital pleasantries. The old woman who lived there before would always cross herself and look down when she saw him with one of his women in the mornings. Her, though- looks him straight in the eye and says good morning, with his name he didn’t tell her, then waltzes out with a smile on her face like she just put him in his place. Maybe she did.

Then she’s there, again, after he gets a bullshit call from the office to come in. He almost doesn’t notice her, he’s so focused on getting a cigarette to calm him down. He’s got a curse ready when he realises his lighter is out of fluid and it’s the only fucking one he has, but then there’s a voice.

“Need a light?”

He looks over and it’s the same woman from the morning. She’s cute. Big eyes, long eyelashes like one of those dolls his cousins had as kids. The pencil skirt she’s got on is tight, tight enough he can’t help but wonder where she keeps the lighter she extends out to him.

“Thanks,” he tells her. She waves him off, swinging the small purse from her opposite side to drop the lighter in. They stand there for a moment in the silence before he decides he owes her a formal introduction.

And she gets him again.

“My moms the author.”

“What?”

“I’m fucking with you.”

It makes him smile.

He wakes up earlier the next morning. Then the next. Then the next until it’s a routine. Usually, he’s not in the office until 9, but now that he knows there’s someone next door, he’s noticing more, like the sound of feet scuffling on carpet in a hurry and the squeak of a wardrobe swinging open. And once he starts to hear them, he can’t tune them out. It makes him anxious, listening to someone bustle around him as he lays doing nothing. He doesn’t like being unprepared.

So he starts to get up earlier. Which means he leaves earlier. Which starts to mean he runs into her. When he starts to get shit at the office for it - look who’s here, what, the brothel stopped offering continental breakfast? - he tries to sleep in again. He’s determined to, but he can’t. Hearing someone so close busy themselves around him while he just lies down drives him crazy.

So, he gets ready early now.

The coffee shop on the way to work is happy for the new business.

—————

He only stood outside smoking that first time because of the smell. He had left something in his fridge too long and the power cut off while he was at work, and now the whole apartment smelled rotten. He has tried smoking inside, fill the air with smoke, but it only made him sick. He decided he’d smoke outside until he’s numbed his senses. He doesn’t smoke outside to run into her. It’s just what happens.

The second day the apartment still smells. The third day, too. That’s when she joined him for the first time, siding up beside him like they had been meeting there for years. After that, if he discovers that if he doesn’t have at least one cigarette outside, it’s all he can smell when he walks in.

So, he smokes outside now. With her.

Her and her little questions.

He doesn’t mind them. Not at first. Not if it was just small talk. But she takes his answers and runs with them. He’s not just from Laredo, he’s from the part of Laredo she knows because she visited once when she was 11 and she remembers Señora Garza’s discoloured hands as they made sandwiches in his corner’s BBQ stop and is she still alive? Does he miss the food? She misses the food in El Paso. Had he ever been? She doesn’t blame him. It’s a long drive.

What’s annoys him is that he answers each one. What annoys him more is that he catches himself asking her questions too. What annoys him the most is that he thinks about her answers even after she’s snubbed her cigarette and gone inside.

So, he gets up earlier, because he can’t stand the sound of her getting ready around him. He smokes with her, because if he doesn’t smell the night air and her perfume and the smoke all he can smell for the rest of the evening is his fridge. Now he’s a guy who asks stupid questions, who listens and laughs at work stories. He’s still working out the ‘because’ for that one. He thinks it has something to do with the pencil skirts. Hopes it does, anyway.

———————

He just needs to fuck her.

That has to be it. He just needs it out of his system. Not the best circumstances, considering she’s his neighbor, but he’s lived with worse before. It would be worth it for the extra sleep and the money he’d save on coffee and cigarettes. For the self respect he’d regain once he stopped lingering outside around 5:30 every evening to smoke (also the time when she’s usually turning down the street, coming back from work).

And she is cute.

So that Friday, when she’s walking up the stairs - in another fucking tight pencil skirt - he’s ready with an invitation. And it goes much better than he thought. He’s a pretty confident guy, but even he has to admit having a pretty woman tell him she’s masturbated to him, all while her cheeks have a rosy flush and she’s so endearingly embarrassed yet daring, yeah, it makes his face flush. It also makes him realise maybe she needs this out of her system just as badly as he does.

So he gets them another drink. He inches his fingers up under the hem of her skirt. And when she asks if he’ll walk her home, his hand is only a little clammy when when he reaches out and takes hers, leading her through the bar and out into the night.

The sex is good. Really good, if he’s honest. But most first time fucks are, aren’t they? Well, first time, second time, and third time, in this case - like he’s back in fucking college. He blames the drink. He blames the pencil skirts. He blames the way she teases him in turn and the bites she leaves on his neck after he calls her baby.

Before she leaves she makes him promise it’s not going to be weird, that she’d miss their smoking sessions, that they’ll be friends.

He thinks back to all his friendships with women. Despite that, he tells her yes.

Friends.

————-

He’s never been a particularly good friend, either.

Maybe that’s why when she comes out that Sunday afternoon, when his mind is still replaying the events from that night before, he snaps at her. Because she’s a fucking third grade teacher, and she’s sweet, and that pisses him off. Because her world is so far away from his. Because if she saw a kid get murdered, she could cry or scream and wouldn’t just have to press it down and just deal with it like he has to, because its just another part of his job. So when she comes out, her hair a mess and a big oversized sweater on her shoulders and those big eyes looking him up and down like he’s a real person and not the husk he feels like, he loses it.

Mind your own fucking business.

He stalks off, letting his feet lead him to the nearest brothel. He asks for Vanessa, and she takes him up to her room, but once his jeans are off and he realises he can’t. That in addition to feeling like shit about the night before, he now feels bad because he was so needlessly cruel. And even though Vanessa tries her hardest, and god, that girls hardest try is the best in the country, he pulls his limp dick from her mouth and pays her full price anyway, apologising as he fixes his jeans and leaves.

He tries to shower. He tries to jerk off. He tries to down a glass of whiskey, then two, then a half a pack of cigarettes. But when he’s not thinking about how he’s a monster for the night before, he’s thinking he’s a dick for that afternoon. It gets to be too much. Maybe because of the drink or the guilt or just old fashioned masochism, he’s at Eloise’s door. When she stands before him, her arms crossed and waiting, biting back at him with his own words - mostly just minding my own fucking business - he nearly falls into a pathetic string of apologies there. I’m sorry. You’re good, I’m bad. I shouldn’t have bothered you. You deserve better friends.

But then she lets him come inside. She lets him be a sad sack on her couch. And when he tries to leave, to protect her from the bullshit that’s spinning around in his head, she reaches out and grabs his hand, telling him to stay. Because she’s there, and she’ll listen, or she won’t if that what he wants, and that’s what friends do.

Friends also, apparently, give you really good head, and let you work your anger and sadness and fear out by fucking them raw on their couch. Then, they let you fall apart to them, like a fucking kid, until they pull you against their warm body and press a soft kiss, much softer than you deserve, against your temple before lulling you into the best sleep you’ve had in months.

When he wakes up and sees her still under him, her hand still in his hair as she sleeps, he has to remind himself who he is before he does something stupid, like curl his body around her closer or pull the blanket around them tighter or stay and make her coffee. So he slips out of her hold, gets dressed, and spends the next thirty minutes outside her unlocked door, until he finally hears her stirring and knows she’ll be safe alone.

When Gabby comes over later, he makes up for the night before. Does his best to remind Eloise and himself who, exactly, he really is. Not soft. Not scared. And certainly, not a good friend.

——————

She doesn’t let him off that easy, and he’s too stupid to untangle himself. It would have been so simple to just keep walking through those doors when she called out to him, keeping his down and ignoring her. To be the asshole. But despite himself, he’s pulling his cigarettes out and standing beside her once again. He’s asking about her day at work, about the kids (whose names he remembers- he doesn’t even remember some of his cousins’ names). When she turns to head back inside - her leaving him! - she squeezes his shoulder as a way of goodbye. It’s friendly, something he’d do to a colleague, but it makes his chest light in a way not even two more cigarettes and a guilty conscience can weigh down.

...

He just needs to fuck her again.

Surely, that’s the problem here. It’s not that their talks have gotten longer, or that her perfume lingers in the hallway, or that she makes him laugh more than anyone has in a while. It’s all because she’s been leaving the second button on her blouses undone, and he can see the faint mark he left not even a week earlier. It’s because she keeps wearing those fucking skirts. And also, he is loathe to admit, she’s probably some of the best sex he’s had in a while.

So, he’s not expecting her to turn his invitation down. He’s especially not expecting her to look that good in that short black dress she’s wearing when she offers him a drink. The hour before her friends- her real friends - show up, his hands are itching as he watches her throat when she throws back drinks, or the v of skin that the fabric cuts over her breasts. He can already see her night ahead of her— bunch of empty headed lotharios pushing up against her, grinding on her on the dance floor, shouting offers for more drinks in her face. She’ll come home completely disillusioned and drunk, and really, it’s the friendly thing to do to offer her an out. Whatever she’s looking to find tonight is already next door.

Well. He thought.

When he pops his head out later that night, ready to generously extend his offer of companionship again, he’s not expecting to see some man- a fucking kid, even- pressing her up against her door, his tongue shoved down her throat. When she turns and sees them, he’s suddenly feels like a high school principal who just caught two teenagers making out at prom. She’s only a handful of years younger than him, but seeing her like this now, with some young, muscled hot heat sucking on her neck - you want a picture or something?- he’s never felt older.

So, like the old man he is, he tries to go to bed and sleep the humiliation off. Only, this time, he’s the one pulling a pillow over his ears to muffle the moans coming from the other side. Whoever Issac is, he must have a 12 inch dick or vibrating fingers or both, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a woman be this vocal. It only hurts his ego a little bit (a lot a bit) that he had her in a similar position just days earlier with a much less vocal response. By the time they start again, less than thirty minutes later (fucking twenty year olds) he’s throwing the covers off him and stalking to the dresser for his cigarettes, deciding a night on the couch would be better than having to lay there and listen to her breathy little moans or his ugly grunts. As he comes to stand in front of the mirror, however, he catches his reflection in the light and frowns when another, girly gasp permeates the wall. Despite himself, he wonders how much better Issac looks naked, how he’s probably got a good back and defined muscles and not the body of a middle aged smoker with bags under his eyes and a small but present belly. For a moment he allows himself to wallow in self pity. But when another breathy shriek breaks him out of his trance, he huffs and snatched the cigarettes from the dresser, marching towards his living room and away from the noise.

The next morning, when he catches her in her sundress (that he just knows she’s not wearing underwear beneath), he tries to mimic her cool demeanor from the previous week, when the tables were turned. There’s a look in her eye though, like she knows, a hunch that’s proved right when she saunters up to him and pulls the cigarette from his dumb speechless lips, taking a long drag and maintains eye contact with a smug little smile.

Oh Javi, it’s not serious .

When he’s jerking off on his couch ten minutes later, he imagines she and that sundress are on top of him, and what he does with his fingers turns that smug little smile into a breathy ‘o’.

—————————

More than anything, he’s pissed when he’s shot. The one time he didn’t wear the tactical vest and he gets clipped. He hates being fussed over, and Murphy’s being such a mother hen about it- he even calls his estranged wife and asks her to rattle off advice to his partner over the phone, like he hadn’t just spent an hour getting patched up. No drinking, no “rapid movements”, and you really should stop smoking.

He picks up a pack on the way home.

Murphy offers to stay with him, but the idea of having Steve hover over him is almost more off-putting than being shot again. So he sends his partner upstairs with his half of the take out - fucks sake, I’ll be fine- and goes into his dark little apartment. He shovels the luke-warm food in his mouth and sits in the silence and tries to think of anything else but the fact he’s been hearing music from next door, or how it’s already 8 pm on a Friday, and that if she’s home she probably doesn’t have plans, which means it would be really easy to knock on the wall and ask if she wants to share a drink he shouldn’t have. Her, a woman he shouldn’t be inviting over in the first place. Even if she is funny and biting and caring in a way that still makes him feel like he can breathe.

Without thinking, he’s by the wall, fist raised and ready to knock, before he stops himself.

There’s only one way this can go, given his track record, and she doesn’t deserve that. She’s sweet. She’s funny. And smart. Pretty. She could do a hell of a lot better on a Friday night that sit with him. If he were a good friend, he’d leave her alone and simmer by himself.

——————

“Isn’t that shirt supposed to be white?”

Javier has never been a particularly good friend.

——————

When she falls asleep on his arm, her legs kicked out under the coffee table covered in ash and alcohol, he’s still up. He lies awake and stares at the ceiling, too aware of the weight of her head against him to relax into sleep, lest the sudden movement wake her and she leaves- which right now, under the safety of booze and cigarettes and hours of laughing, he can admit to himself - would be the worst thing to happen today.

...Jesus, the way that sounds.

Maybe, if he weren’t so drunk, and if he hadn’t almost died, and if she hadn’t come over and asked him questions about his mom and made him laugh and tried for thirty minutes to convince him to buy an actual boat, he would be able to snap back to himself and think clearly.

But, right now, her head is on his arm, it’s dark outside, and Javier is warm.

——————

She tried to leave. She had done her friendly duty- deposited him in bed, forced him to drink water, made sure he hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night. She was almost free of him, but then he just pulled her down beside him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t thinking. He should have just let her go, shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

He waited for her to push back against him. Payback, maybe, for sneaking out on her the last time. Or just common sense shining through. But instead she pulled the comforter over them both and threw a leg over his middle, cuddling into his shoulder.

Against his ear, she mumbled “These sheets better be washed.”

——————

He woke to sound of someone knocking on his door. Eloise had somehow flipped her body diagonally, the way all women seem to do when they’re deeply, deeply asleep. He rolled out, careful not to wake her, before heading to the living room and unlocking the door.

“Wow. You look like shit.”

Javi sighed. “What do you want?”

His partner held up a paper bag. “Took your bandages with me last night.”

He reached out and took the bag, giving him a nod. “Thanks,”

“You have a party?”

Javi looked over his shoulder to the mess of a coffee table.

“Allowed to celebrate cheating death, aren’t I?”

“Uh huh.” The other man nodded to the pair of jeans on the floor. El has discarded them the night before after declaring them “too restrictive” when she had insisted on showing him how to do - and failed to execute- a handstand. “House call?”

“Goodbye, Murphy,” he closed the door in his partners face, but not before hearing a muffled chuckle from outside. Stalking forward, he dropped the paper bag on the couch before picking up the bottle of pills and rattled them in his hand. He made back for the bedroom, thinking he could get away with sneaking a few while she was still out cold. He needn’t have worried, it turns out.

“Give me two.”

“These aren’t Tylenol, they’re real-“

“Javier. Shut the fuck up and give me two.”

He shut the fuck up and gave her two.

——————

“I don’t want to eat. I want to smoke and go back to bed.”

“You can smoke and eat. They did it in the 50’s all the time.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re supposed to eat with those pills, Javier.”

“I’ll eat later, give me the pack.”

“No. You’re having a piece of toast.”

“You’re not my godda-what the fuck are you doing? Turn off the burner—-DON’T-“

——————

Sucker.

A goddamn sucker.

Why else would he be pouring over a bunch of papers written by kids who could barely write?

Why else would he check so often if he was doing it right? Like this actually mattered? He started off giving most of them a lucky break, but when he saw how concentrated she looked, biting the end of her pen and circling words with a flourish, smiling to herself when she gave a check or drew a little happy face, he slowed down. Now he was thinking more about comma use than he had in his entire life.

It’s worth it, though, when she’s sat in between his knees, head bobbing up and down on him as she sucks him off. When she looks him in the eyes as she jerks him, smiling before licking up along the side, he almost comes embarrassingly early. He decides that he’d gladly spend two hours grading shitty sentences if it means he can watch you deep throat him every Sunday afternoon.

He won’t draw smiley faces though.

He had his limits.

——————

He’s not too sure what possessed him to kiss her like that. Sometimes after they’re done and she’s pulled her clothes back on, she’ll bend down to the bed and give him a peck. Other times she just leaves with a wave. Once she slapped his ass. He liked that goodbye quite a lot.

But this time, he’s reaching out and catching her lips in a kiss that’s much more than thanks for the fuck and the cigarettes, get home safe. Something in his body bypasses his brain, and it takes a lot of conscious willpower than it should to finally pull himself back, even more so when her mouth chases his.

Later, when he’s sober, he’ll explain it away as a thank you for the weekend. Or that he was still horny. Or a combination of both.

Either way-

“Get home safe.”

—————

So maybe that’s why he decides he should really be giving you rides to work. Safety.

That’s reasonable. That’s a friendly thing to do.

The dinners are harder to explain to himself. He tries to reason you’re both saving money on groceries this way. He read somewhere in one of those awful magazines that the embassy has on waiting tables, the kind that haven’t been updated in years, that food waste is a problem in America.

But saving the environment isn’t why he sticks around for fifteen minutes, thirty minutes, an hour after they’ve both finished your cigarettes. It’s not a bleeding heart for the whales that makes him hold his breath for her answer when he asks her to come in for a drink. It certainly has nothing to do with the urgency with which he bends her over his kitchen table, scattering the empty take out containers onto the floor, before hiking another fucking pencil skirt up over her hips. He wishes it explained it. Because then it would be easier to dismiss the way his hand begins to fall on her knee during the early morning commutes, or the way he can’t relax until he hears those three ridiculous knocks after she leaves him in his bed.

He chalks it back up to her safety and tries not to think any deeper than that.

——————

“Are you mad? ‘Baby?’”

There’s something incredibly sexy about a woman who can beat you at your own game. There’s also something very, very sexy about how her mouth pouts around the word, sardonic and mocking as her tone is.

He’s only got himself to blame. He made the first move by dismissing that 70s nightmare. She had walked past him that night at the bar multiple times, staring through him when he had waved. His rational side told him she was distracted by her girlfriends and the music and just didn’t see him, but the other side- the side he often found himself on when it came to women- was pissed. Maybe that’s why he picked up the first hot body that made eye contact with him, strategically leading her over to the bar where he could keep and eye on Eloise’s back- fuck, she did look good in a backless shirt- while keeping his new friend entertained. Just like he had wanted, one of her friends pointed him out to her, and she made for the bar minutes later. He was surprised when she struck up conversation with Miguel, Colombia’s answer to Sunny Bono if he’d ever seen one, and a little insulted, too, if he’s being honest. If she was going to try and make him jealous, she could have picked someone who didn’t look like his parody. So when - ah fuck, what was her name, Maria? Lourdes? Doesn’t matter - went to the restroom, he took the chance to intervene and ruin her little game.

What he didn’t expect was that she’d hit back harder.

“Are you mad? ‘Baby’?”

No. Not mad.

Impressed. Challenged. Uncomfortably hard against his jean’s zipper. But not mad.

But she likes being fucked rough, so he plays along. He grabs her by her hair, pushes her into her apartment, and takes her up against her door. When she’s just about to cum, he pulls out of her and tries not to laugh when she whips around with that crazed, angry look in her eye. It doesn’t take much (who is he kidding, he was never going to leave) before he’s got her bent over the sofa, pumping into the wettest, tightest cunt he may have ever felt in his life.

The most unforgivable thing, though, and the moment that played through his mind as he drove home the night he should have died, was how she deposited herself on his lap afterwards. How those slender fingers reached out and took his cigarette, like she always did, and smiled through the smoke down at him. Naked and confident and so fucking pretty.

“Baby,” she had called him, and it sent a jolt through his chest. “I would have asked which pharmacy you want me to pick your meds up from.”

When they were in her shower an hour later, inadvertently testing just how non-slip her bath mat really was, he replayed her voice in his head. Baby, baby, baby.

————————

He knew before he even stepped out of his car where he was going. And that scared him.

He wasn’t this guy. He had made sure of it. It was best for everyone. It made him good at his job. He saw fucked up shit, did fucked up shit, but he never made it anyone else’s problem who wasn’t already there beside him, watching and participating. He managed it with drinking and denial and never hanging a picture of his mother up, afraid to meet her eyes and recoil at what she would think of him, even though she was years dead. If it was really bad, he went to see one of his girls- they weren’t stupid, they wouldn’t ask questions, and he always tipped them for it.

He didn’t talk about it. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to have his hand held or a shoulder to cry on because if he started now, he didn’t know if he could stop. And that meant he’d lose the hard shell that made him able to keep doing this goddamn job every single day, and that would mean everything he had done, all the fucked up decisions made for the greater good, whatever that meant anymore, would be for nothing.

But now, he’s standing in front of her door, hands shaking at his sides, trying to decide what he’s more afraid of: being alone or letting her see him like this. He had gone to her, maybe stupidly, after he saw the kid get shot, but that was different. That was an explanation for being a dick. This was seeking comfort. Intimacy. The antithesis of the system of drink fuck repress and repeat that had served him so well for the past ten years. He should have turned and walked to his apartment. He should have gone out the door to the nearest brothel and made a fool out of himself in front of some girl who saw this shit thirty times a day. He should have never started smoking to Eloise in the first place, because that led to talking and that led to sex and that led to the inconvenient, humiliating feeling that now filled his chest whenever he saw her or smelled her perfume and drove him to do stupid things like stand on her doorway at midnight ready to fall apart. If she was smart, she’d be asleep or ignore him. It’s what he deserves.

But he knocks.

And she comes running.

———————-

He doesn’t do tender. Not like this.

He doesn’t like to be taken care of. He’s the one who takes care of people, in his own messy, selfish, fucked up way. It makes him feel like he’s failing at the one thing he’s supposed to do - be the strong one, protect the innocent, whatever crap they peddled about his job. To be weak like this feels like admitting defeat, to admit that something finally got to him in a way he may not be able to bounce back from.

He’s ashamed when he walks in and pours himself out like he does. He’s even more ashamed that he couldn’t just deal with this on his own, and his first instinct had come to her and fuck up her night. It’s almost like he can see himself from across the room, and he wants to reach out at stop his dumb ass from falling apart so spectacularly like he does. She doesn’t deserve this, and it’s not her responsibility. He worries that by doing this, he’s wrecking the only safe harbour he’s got left in the country. She is fun and light and blow jobs and laughter and good tequila, and he’s poisoning what they have by being so disgustingly raw in front of her.

He waits for her to finally break and tell him it’s finally too much. That he’s a shithead cop who has done nothing but annoy her since they first met. That maybe he’s getting all that he deserves, at last, for all the awful things he’s done, and she rightly doesn’t have any sympathy for a man like him. This was fun, Javi, but I didn’t sign up for this.

But that’s the thing about Eloise. She’s surprising.

So when she reaches his hand out, he doesn’t quite believe her. She has to reach down and take it herself before he’s standing up and following her down the hall, not completely in control of his own body. He’s dumbstruck as she undresses him, so softly, like he’s something that could break underneath her help. It’s not until he’s pressed against her and she’s kissing the top of his head that he finally, finally lets go and lets himself believe that maybe he can have this, just for tonight.

So he pulls her closer, and he lets a sob rock through his body, and he tries not to cry when he feels her grip him tighter in response.

When he wakes up, he knows he should let her sleep. She’s got work tomorrow and he’s got to go back to the embassy with a straight face and determination to get back to work. He had his moment of weakness, and now he should leave her alone. Slip out of her hold and her apartment and, if he was a good man, out of her life all together.

Javier’s never been a particularly good man.

So he reaches for her and cups her cheek. When her eyes flutter open and she says his name, so soft and so full of concern, his chest expands.

He’s not good with words. Not the ones that matter. So he does what he is good at. He pulls her against him and kisses her and tries to treat her as gently as she treated him, like somehow if he could do this right, she’ll know. From the way she keeps her eyes on his as he pushes into her, he thinks she does.

He wishes he was better. He wishes he could just tell her these things during the day, when he’s thinking straight, not just when he’s emotionally cored out. She deserves someone who can use their words, who don’t need to be at their very bottom and most needy to realise something that’s been growing inside them all along. He hates that in the morning, he’s going to look back at this and cringe at just how intimate and vulnerable he let himself be around her, that he’s going to have to brick himself back up just so he can get back to doing his job. He wishes, pathetically, stupidly, that the entire world could just be this dark bedroom and the noises she’s making and the way she feels around him.

When it’s over, he falls against her, still entangled and unable to let go quite yet. He tells himself he’ll roll off her before he goes to sleep, because staying like this, surely, would be too much. But then he feels her fingers on his back, running up and down his spine as he lays against her, breathing in the faint smell of perfume that still lingers on her skin.

In the morning, he’ll have to deal with this. Have to decide what lie he’s most comfortable with telling himself. But for right now, he can admit this is what he wants.

Sometimes he can be pretty surprising, too.

--------

taglist: @fuckoffbard

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x oc #narcos #fic #it's nothing serious

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monikafilefan · 3 years

Note

Love your writing so much! Can you write a New Year’s fic set in season 6 where they actually kiss? No Fowley angst if you can? Thank you

Thanks so much. This turned out longer than I hoped so I’m a little late, but I hope you enjoy. Takes place just before Tithonus.

——

10:02 PM: Mulder swallows another mouthful of Shiner Bock, letting the alcohol warm him from the inside out. He sets the beer bottle next to the other empty ones with a clink and the beat of the music vibrates along the golden table cloth beneath him. Laughter and muffled conversations of fellow agents fill the silence of isolation he’s purposely surrounded himself in.

He doesn’t want to be here. Not at this New Years Eve bureau mandated banquet, sticking out like a black sheep among the herd of Kersh-loving ass-kissers, and certainly not forced to appease the Deputy Director in the name of another successful year of wielding justice. He sure as hell doesn’t want to celebrate the loss of his life’s work to his ex-wife and Kersh’s errand boy he’s currently hiding in a dark corner from. Wielding justice…

What a crock of shit.

But Scully is here, and the loss of his near constant contact with her is something he will never celebrate acknowledgement of. Not ever. He feels their absence on the files like a missing puzzle piece, teasing him with its existence lingering just out of his reach. Yet as he stares longingly at her across the room in her black satin dress, drinking wine as red as her lips, and smiling with their peers from the bullpen, Mulder can’t help but smile in return.

10:38 PM: Scully turns his way and scans the room, her big blue eyes flickering from person to person. She’s searching for him, he thinks. He knows. He’d told her hours earlier he decided to forgo following rules forcing him to be social. And still she looks for him, hopeful, unable to accept he can truly leave her partnerless for even one night. She’s right. As he sips at another Shiner, Mulder knows the heat of the beer isn’t the only thing warming his chest tonight.

A slow song begins to play as the lights dim. His pulse quickens at the thought of asking her to dance. Of holding her petite body close to his. Of kissing her at the stroke of midnight. He stands, unable to resist the pull of her proximity a moment longer, when another man swoops into his eye-line and offers Scully his hand.

Mulder’s fists clench as an agent from the lab arrogantly claims her bare back with his meaty hand, sloppily twirling her around the dance floor. Her surprised laughter is as loud as it is fake, but she doesn’t pull away. She accepts his hand with a tight-lipped smile and promptly stares at her three inch stilettos instead of at the man attempting to woo her.

Mulder does the same while his nostrils flare with every indignant breath.

Turning away, he picks at the yellow label on the bottle until only the brown glass reflecting his scowl is showing.

10:55 PM: He hears Scully laugh again. Then again and again. He doesn’t know what she’s chuckling about or who with, but it doesn’t matter when she’s enjoying her last remaining hours of 1998. She’s having fun drinking and dancing, he tells himself. She deserves this. He wants her to be happy, always. He just refuses to watch someone else make her that way.

This time, when a high-pitched, unScully-like laughter slices through the sound of his heart thudding against his eardrums, his gut clenches along with his fists.

11:02 PM: One hour and four - no five - beers later, Mulder is ready to leave. To flee, more like it, when a thick hand slaps at his back.

“Agent Mulder,” Skinner’s voice booms over the music. “Glad to see you decided to show up.”

He scoffs, “I was summoned.”

Skinner glances at him, his heavy hand squeezing the meat of Mulder’s shoulder; hard. “You mean she asked or you wouldn’t be here,” he corrects, nodding towards Scully draining yet another glass of wine. “She wants you here, Mulder. I suggest you remember that.”

11:32 PM: Mulder does remember that. In fact, that’s all he’s been thinking about for the past half hour when he lost sight of Scully within the crowd. After dodging both Diana and Spender, three agents requesting a dance, and one persistent secretary’s offer for much more than that, Mulder halts his search for his partner and ducks into the restroom to break the seal.

He glances at his cell phone. No service. Goddammit.

The entire time he’s been looking for Scully, the sickening thought of her having left with someone else has weighed heavily in the back of his mind. He should’ve taken Frohike up on his offer of Mexican and movies and saved himself the heartache.

11:44 PM: “Yes, I do know I’m leaving before the ball drops, and no, I don’t have a date I’m waiting for,” Mulder repeats to Agent Matthews at the coat check.

“You want one?” he asks, smirking. “Because I’m outta here in ten.”

“Oh uh,” Mulder can’t help but smile. “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.”

“I knew it. But hey, a guy can dream.” The man shrugs and hands Mulder his jacket. “Agent Scully is one lucky woman.”

“You’ve seen her?” Mulder questions, ready to interrogate the poor guy. “Did she leave?”

“Maybe,” Matthews says, chuckling at Mulder’s unabashed desperation. “But I’ve seen her walk by looking for someone special a couple times earlier, though. I guess that someone was you.”

“Yeah, thanks. Have a good night,” Mulder groans as he walks away, feeling more and more like an asshole as the minutes tick by.

11:50 PM: Mulder makes his way down the side stairwell and shuffles past the ladies room tucked away in an alcove at the end of the hall. Fireworks spark outside the window next to him and he can’t help but wonder if Scully is looking at them, too.

He sighs, takes three steps, and stumbles when a flash of red catches his eye.

“Scully?”

“Mulder, you’re here!” she praises, her cheeks flushed with wine. Her eyes flick down to his coat slung over his arm and her smile fades. “You’re leaving.”

He falters, shifting in his Wingtip Oxfords he’d worn just for her. “You know me, Scully,” he feigns nonchalance. “I’d rather pull out my hair than kiss the asses of the ‘powers that be’ more than I’m forced.”

Scully shakes her head and is quiet a moment before boldly brushing a lock of hair from his brow. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

He stifles a moan. The familiar feeling of her touch lulls him where they stand. “A full head of hair means that much to you, does it, Scully?”

“Mm…” She nods while his hand covers hers sliding gently across his scalp. “You do have great hair.”

“Melvin will be crushed.”

She laughs - this it’s time for him - and Mulder swears it’s the most beautiful sound echoing through the hall. They continue to stand in the hallway, staring at one another as her fingers dance through his hair, letting the soft melody of the muffled music fill the silence.

“So why show up then?” she finally asks, her fingers trailing over the shell of his ear, down to his cheek, hovering there. “Why come at all?”

The alcohol that flows through her veins, leaving her open and vulnerable deserves only honesty from him. “Because you’re here,” Mulder confesses.

“I am.” Her eyes hone in on his fingers twining through hers. “And you were about to leave without saying goodbye?” She arches a brow, pins him with an accusatory stare. “Or hello, for that matter?”

“I-you were enjoying yourself out there. You were…” he sighs, guilt washing over him for not being a better partner to her. For not walking out on that dance floor and showing her exactly how much he appreciates her. How much he loves her. “Scully…”

“Mulder, it’s okay. I get it, really.” She rolls her eyes, tapping his tie with a manicured nail. “Plus, Skinner told me that if you’re as smart as your IQ says you are, you’d be here to ring the new year with me.”

“Ha!” It’s Mulder’s turn to roll his eyes, imagining the AD just itching to dance with his beautiful partner. “I’ll bet he did.”

“I told him you were smarter.”

Mulder’s heart began to race at the husk in her voice. “And if I hadn’t shown up?” he wonders. “I have a feeling Skinner and every other person in that ballroom would give anything to dance with you tonight.”

“They asked to dance with me, Mulder, not date me.”

Mulder’s jaw clenches at that, his free hand dipping down to settle gently at the base of her spine.

“And besides,” she arches into him, amused and emboldened. “There’s only one person I wanted to dance with tonight.”

“Scully.” His voice catches when her sapphire eyes snap up to lock onto his, imploring him to say more. “I-you looked… you look...” The liquid courage swirling though his mind gives him the nudge he needs. He touches her face, softly tracing the slope of her jawline from her ear to her chin. She hums and he melts. "...Stunning, Scully. You look stunning.”

Her half-grin twitches higher. "Bet you say that to all the girls, Mulder."

“No,” he denies in earnest. “Only you.”

She nods slowly, unblinking, as if she’s always known. Her eyes are large and luminous in their dimly lit corner, the deep blue sea of them beckoning him into dangerous waters. Lashes fluttering under his gaze, she leans into him like a feral kitten, fierce and unyielding in her affection. And it’s a good thing, Mulder thinks as he leans in too, that he’s an excellent swimmer.

“You showed up, Mulder,” she whispers. Her tiny hands skim down to his waist and tug his body flush to hers. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” he begs. “Don’t thank me for anything.”

He palms her neck and she allows his hand to wander up into her hair, tangling the silky waves through his fingers. He watches her eyelids flutter half shut, her lips parting.

“And why did you come, Scully?” he blurts, curious.

“Why do you think?” she retorts, challenging him. Suddenly, Mulder knows exactly why she came. Why she’s still here, staring up at him with dark eyes and rocking against him with hardened nipples.

He forgets to breathe.

“Tell me,” he says, cradling the base of her skull and letting his forehead fall forward against hers.

“No,” she breathes while stroking the curve of his ribcage, nudging the tip of his nose with her own. “I’ll show you.”

Her eyes flutter shut and a gush of warm breath tickles his cheek. As he leans down, her cushy lips press softly to his and his heart threatens to burst from his chest.

Her mouth tastes of red wine and sugar - a tart sweet-filled sin laced with a hint of blush-colored lipstick. She tastes more satisfying than any dessert. She tastes like raw desire.

Reluctantly, he pulls his hips away from her soft belly when his rock hard want for her becomes impossible to ignore.

She whimpers with her arms now wrapped around his neck, tugging him down for more.

Mulder gulps and kisses her nose, her cheek, inhales the fruity scent of her shampoo. He breathes her in while keeping a lung full of her essence within his chest. The warmth of her baby soft skin beneath his lips makes him wonder if he’s having an out of body experience: an erotic X-File, as his soul quite possibly ascends into the unknown.

A sudden cacophony of cheers bursts through the cracks of the heavy ballroom doors. Mulder jumps while Scully clutches at his back, keeping him close. Their heavy breathing mingles with the chorus of Auld Lang Syne playing in the background as fireworks boom outside the window pane. Bursts of copper and cerulean stream across the ink-black sky and it rumbles the carpet beneath their feet, reminding him that, yes, his feet are still on solid ground.

Two hours, two minutes, and one kiss from Dana Scully are all it takes for his world to tilt on its axis.

“Wow. Wha… what was that?” he gasps dumbly.

Scully arches brow. "I would have thought that's fairly obvious," she purrs. "You asked me why I came here, so I kissed you."

"Yeah, I know that, Scully, believe me. But...” Fuck, he berates himself. Why does his conscience hate him so damn much?

“Shh, just shut up and kiss me again,” she slurs.

His eyes flutter shut. He wants this - wants her - more than his next breath, but she’s been drinking, he remembers. They both have. “Shit, I want to, badly. But I think,” he hesitates, no more than a whisper, “I should hail us a cab.”

“Mulder…”

“In case you don’t remember these last few minutes when you wake up in the morning,” Mulder explains further. “Or worse, you regret them when you do.”

“But…” Scully frowns, hiccuping as she sways within his arms. “Okay…” she sighs, rolling her forehead against his sternum and mumbles to herself, “Fine, but the cab’s on you.”

“Deal,” he chuckles, his love for her growing with each passing second. His lips brush against the crown of her head, his palms smoothing over her hair and down to the lithe bare blades of her shoulders. “I can do that.”

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

12:10 PM: This year, Mulder thinks as he waves down a cab. This year will be different. When Scully’s pinky loops through his, he squeezes it in promise. This year, he will do better.

“Happy New Year, Scully.”

And next time, when he looks into her eyes and tells her he loves her again, Scully will finally believe.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#msr fanfic #new years eve #season 6 #first kiss #jealous Mulder #romance

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thesweetestkimberry · 3 years

Text

feliz navidad !

parings: hanta sero x latina!reader

summary: it’s christmas eve! and you and sero want to celebrate the holiday in a familiar way.

warnings: latin reader and latin sero hc, mexican food, a bit of spanish, a few curses on my part, ooc,

notes: MORE NOTES AT THE END OF THE WORK- happy holidays everyone! here’s a little something to keep my fellow, midnight present openers, company!

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

“sero stop eating the filling!” you scold, shaking his head with the handle of the spoon you were holding, turning it back around to continue spreading the masa on the corn husk.

he winced at the pain and rubbed his head, the bits of the filling de puerco around his mouth.

“sorry babe! i cant help it though, it’s really good.” he says eying you as you wipe the food off his mouth with a napkin. he hummed at the attention and placed his hands on your hips,

“you look beautiful, you know?” he says, making you blush, looking down at your food stained apron and christmas outfit. “i don’t think it’s all that.” you mumble, going back to preparing the tamales, adding the filling and rolling it up.

sero suddenly connected to the speaker the two of you had brought, the loud music scaring the shit out of you.

“turn that down! it’s late!” you scold, watching him stumble to lower the volume, “sorry, but it’s too quiet.” he says almost unapologetically. you flicked your santa hat back into its proper spot and continued working.

both of you were kinda right, it was a bit late, about 10 o’clock, and due to the two of you being the only ones up in the dorm’s kitchen, it was pretty quiet.

but why were the two of you up so late? well, it was christmas eve! that usually wouldn’t warrant the actions, but you and sero grew up with the tradition of waiting till midnight to open gifts.

also the two of you had missed home and the cultures, so you thought, why not bring home here?

so it was just the two of you, making tamales in the dimly lit kitchen. he handed the ready ones to you while you placed them into the large pot you were going to cook them in.

“don’t burn yourself.” sero teases, noticing how you need to stick your arm in to place them. nudging him with your foot, you both laughed and carried on.

not long after, the champurrado was ready. searching some for sero and yourself, you two sat on the couch. staring at the brightly lit christmas tree, a fuzzy blanket over your laps, and a warm drink in your hands really set the mood.

without a word, sero turned to look at you, smiling and lowering his head to kiss the tip of your nose, making you giggle and rub your nose against his.

after about a half hour, the two of you lightly jumped in surprise when you heard the elevator doors open, turning to see who walked out, you both laughed.

“what’s so funny?” a sleepy kaminari asked, rubbing his tired eyes and squinting at the two of you.

“nothing.” was all you two could respond before he bound over to the two of you, holding over the back of the couch and sitting in between you.

“whatchu guys doin 'up?” he piped up, snatching the drink out of your hands and taking a few questioning sips. “this is pretty good!” he exclaims.

“you want some?” sero asks, laughing at his friend who nodded excitedly and made himself comfortable under the blanket and against your side.

kaminari had whipped out his phone quietly, your peripherals picking up him typing a few words before shoving it back in his sweatpants pocket.

he only smiled at you with faux innocence when you glanced down questioningly at him.

right as sero came back with another mug, the elevator doors opened up again, this time revealing kirishima and bakugou. kiri looked way happier than bakugou did, he looked like he was ready to bow up all of you.

“what are you two doing up?” you ask him, laughing knowingly when kirishima holds up his phone, revealing a message from kaminari.

“now, we could ask you two the same question.” kirishima asks, throwing bakugou onto the other couch. you heard a quiet, “i’ll get more drinks” from behind you, making you laugh.

“well, it’s christmas eve, and sero and i are used to waiting up till midnight to open gifts.” you explain, watching kirishima and kaminari’s eyes light up.

“woah! you mean you don’t wait till the morning?” the blonde asks, bouncing in his seat, however careful as to not spill the hot drink.

“pretty much, we also made some food.” sero says, this time bakugou perking up, “what kind of food?” he asks gruffly.

as you went to go check on the tamales, the elevator doors opened up again, this time revealing the entire deku squad.

yes, even iida.

“what?..” you trailed off, “kiri.” they all said holding up their phones. you giggled, “you want some?” you ask them as they run over to see what you were serving for drinks.

“oo that smells good!” midoriya, uraraka and asui all exclaimed, todoroki and iida curiously looking into the pot of tamales.

“what are these?” shoto asks, “they’re called tamales. they’re corn dough and filled with corn and beef.” you explain in a simple way.

not even 5 minutes later, the whole common room was full of your classmates, all dressed in their pj’s and their custom christmas hats. everyone was either sitting on the couches, on the floor around the three with a christmas movie playing, or helping you in the kitchen.

once sato arrived with his baking stuff, you got to work on making various pan dulces to go along with the hot chocolate and champurrado.

everyone was chatting and even singing a few different versions of christmas songs that made you all laugh. at about 11:40 a voice rang out that made you all freeze.

“what are you all doing at this hour?” aizawa’s voice boomed, effectively scaring all of you. before you could stand up to take the blame, sero placed a hand on your shoulder and stood.

“uh, mr. aizawa, this was all me, i got homesick and, sir it’s christmas eve,” he says, getting nervous under his teacher’s glare, “i’m aware.” aizawa cut him off, making him stutter.

you looked up at him reassuringly and took his hand, “and for us it’s traditionally celebrated on christmas eve, and the opening presents starts at midnight.” sero finished explaining, his charming grin slightly wobbling.

the tired man groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. with a defeated sigh, he waved his hand and looked up at all of your waiting faces, “fine, continue. but you all are cleaning up.” he says as you all cheer, that’s when he smells the food in the kitchen.

you smile at him as you approach, offering him his awaiting cat mug and a pan dulce, “merry christmas mr. aizawa!” you say cheerfully, smiling even wider when he takes the offerings.

all might also burst in at some point, the two teachers now with their own santa hats and christmas snacks.

you and sero were so preoccupied with one another that you didn’t notice uraraka floating above the two of you, her giggles and the whispers in the room alerting you.

looking, you and sero saw she was holding a bundle of mistletoe above the two of you.

“feliz navidad, hanta.” you say lovingly, sighing in content when sero’s hands come to cup your cheeks.

“feliz navidad, mi amor.” sero says with equal amounts of love as he leans down to press a kiss on your lips, both of you smiling when you hear the cheers and whistles of your classmates.

“hey, it’s midnight!” a voice says, the two of you pulling apart and staring at one another while the sounds of joyful voices, wrapping paper tearing and laughter.

“happy holidays everyone!!”

『° 。✰˚⋆☾⋆。✰°』

hello again! thank you all for reading and sticking with me up to now, if you’re new here, hello!! requests are open and comments are always appreciated!! don't be afraid to say Hi either! or ask some questions if you want,, happy holidays everyone!

#latin sero #mha hanta sero #sero hanta x reader #bnha x reader #hanta sero x reader #mha x reader #seroxreader #hanta sero imagine #bnha

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comphersjost · 4 years

Text

All for You | 2 ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

hi, its 3 am, and i couldnt stop until i finished this. ik i promised yall another part on thursday so im sorry this is later then i was hoping. i hope you enjoy it :) i took a different approach to brady here than ive normally seen, let me know how you guys like it!!

It’s been 4 and a half months since that day in the basement. With Christmas just days away and Matty on a flight back home, you and Brady take a risk, leaving Matt to wonder where he went wrong.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: this is really angsty yall, like actually, smut, sir kink, brady is Mean, uh moral ambiguity sorta (thinking abt someone else during sex), d/s undertones sorta, unprotected sex (be safe), oral (m on f), some choking, alcohol (wine), sex under the influence, pls ignore any typos fkakldfa

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

masterlist

Even with how utterly fucked the situation was that Matt had found himself in, there was one thing he couldn't stop thinking about. It was the way his logo and his last name and his number rested against your back that drove him insane.

It was burned into his retinas.

Even now, on a plane back home to St. Louis it was all he could think about. Every time he closed his eyes it was you you you.

It had been months since he had seen you. Nearly 5 months had passed since that night in the basement. And it killed him.

He was in a slump. Everyone knew it. He knew it, his teammates knew it, the damn front office knew it. And it was because of you.

His teammates had quickly put together your absence at any sort of gathering and Matty’s sulking. 4 and a half months later he resembles a shell of the man he used to be.

He had called, of course he had. Over and over, hoping, pleading, praying to any deity that existed out there to hear from you again.

Matthew’s prayer was answered one day, when he had come out of practice to find a text from you. His heart rate accelerated, time felt like molasses as his phone camera ID’d his face. As the facial recognition unlocks his phone, the message is revealed.

Please stop calling me. And tell the boys to stop too.

The text tears his heart to shreds. It was the last straw. Before he had been mopey, but now - now he was spiraling. His play was abysmal - a shit show on the ice really. He drank until he blacked out every time, not even looking at another girl.

He had contemplated going to your work, but decided a player in the middle of a slump having a restraining order filed against him would not go over well with the Flames management. Every time he went out for the most mundane task, groceries, dry cleaning, he couldn’t help the hope that he would run into you. Even if you didn’t give him the time of day it would be enough for him to just see you.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Not for lack of trying, though. Matthew had been to all the spots you used to frequent—the grocery store you love, the clubs you two used to go to, even the 7/11 you had both been to after the both of you got so drunk that you could barely walk. You weren’t on the flight you had booked back together. In fact, he had no idea about anything that’s been going on in your life, his mom just told him that you’re okay and that was all he got.

Now it was 3 days before Christmas and the idea of seeing you again both filled him with dread and also made him feel more alive than he had in months. He was equally utterly terrified and buzzing with excitement. His hands itched to hold you again, though he knew there was a bigger chance of you slapping him than letting him kiss you the way he wanted.

As Matt stares out the window at the clouds, he lets his mind wander. He wonders how you're doing; are you okay? After everything that happened did you pick up right where you left off? He wondered if you missed him, if he was on your mind as much as you were on his.

He still wondered if you loved him back.

“Mom, I really just, I really want to stay home and do nothing tonight okay? I'm tired.”

Your mom rolls her eyes at your attempt at getting out of going over to Tkachuk’s house tonight. You’d been trying since 9 am.

“Honey, I know you said you and Matthew don’t hang out anymore, but he won't be there!” she tried reassuring you, “Brady and Taryn will be there to hang out with you until Taryn goes to spend the night with the Johnson’s.” That made you groan even louder - you had to be alone with Brady. Great, now you had to steel yourself for a night of utter humiliation.

Brady isn't even downstairs yet when you enter the Tkachuk’s threshold, Chantal’s call for her kids brings Taryn down in an instant, ever excited to see you.

“Y/N!” she squeals, running down the stairs, “You're here, you're here!”

“Y/N?” you hear faintly, and then the slam of Brady’s door and rapid footsteps. He nearly slides down the stairs, freezing at the bottom when he spots you. Taryn lets you out of her embrace, leaving you to stare wide-eyed at Brady. Unsure how to navigate your way out of this situation, you keep staring at Brady as your parents and Taryn follow Chantal to the kitchen.

“Hi, B,” you say meekly, unsure of how he’ll receive you after so long.

“Hi, buttercup,” he responds, a bright smile pulling at his lips. It’s all he needs to take a few quick steps in your direction and draw you into his arms.

“I missed you so much, buttercup,” he whispers against your hairline, “More than you know.”

Despite his warm welcome, the night is tense. You still don't know what he thinks of that night, not wanting to ask him in front of your families - well, most of your families anyways. You didn't even let yourself think about what would happen when you saw Matthew at the next dinner party. You sat at the table and ate your food, barely speaking to Taryn and answering Keith and Chantal’s inquiries about your life in Calgary with a tight smile.

You’re so zoned out trying to make time go faster you barely register your parents telling you that they’re going out with Keith and Chantal.

“Mom, wait-”

“Y/N,” she warns, looking at you with that look, and you sigh in resignation. She smiles at you, a silent promise to make it up to you.

Taryn had left 30 minutes ago, announcing that she had somewhere to be before leaving as quickly as she could, uncomfortable with the palpable tension between you and Brady.

You watch your parents leave, wincing for a moment at what awaits you when you turn around. To your surprise, what greets you is a glass of wine hovering in front of your face.

You take the peace offering gingerly from Brady’s hand with a tiny smile. And it’s a really bad idea, the way you let him keep refilling your glass, and his own, let him draw you in during The Grinch on the couch, let him hold you tight under the blanket that was covering the both of you.

You can hear your common sense screaming in the back of your mind when you snuggle closer into Brady’s chest. It’s near 11 now, and your parents are still together, laughing and drinking in the living room of your house before Keith and Chantal are supposed to head to the airport. You're cuddled up to Brady, shifting every few minutes to try and get closer, even though nearly every inch of your body is practically glued to him.

He hums when you shift again, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. “Gotta go home,” you say, your voice muffled against him. It’s not like you haven't spent the night with him before; you just haven't since that night.

“Probably,” he mumbles, arms tightening around you. “But I don't want you to.” And like, you've had way too much wine and you should probably go before Matty gets here cause you really can't handle that conversation like this so you push off of Brady, standing up but stumbling, wine sloshing over the lip of the glass and splattering on your pants.

“Fuck,” you hiss, the red wine surely staining the gray leggings you wore. Brady takes the glass from you, placing it on the table and stabilizing you with his other hand.

“Go change upstairs,” he says softly, looking up at you with those eyes you're such a sucker for. “Stay.”

And - how can you say no to that? You can't, because it's Brady and you're so damn easy for him it didn't matter what he’d asked you to do, you would do it without a second thought.

That's how you find yourself stumbling to Brady’s bedroom, barely finding your way to his bathroom to change out of your stained leggings and wipe yourself down. You rummage through Brady’s dresser, searching for - there it was. A pair of Brady’s sweatpants from high school that he stopped wearing approximately 2 months after he got them [mostly because he couldn't find them (mostly mostly because they were either in your room or on your body)].

You place the worn sweats on top of Brady’s dresser, fumbling to close the drawer and find your balance. Someone clears their throat and your head snaps towards the doorway. Brady is leaning against the doorframe and through the fuzziness of the wine, you register the thought that he looks so good like this - in his comfort zone.

“Hey,” he says, pushing off the doorframe towards you.

“Hi,” you whisper back, eyes too focused on Brady moving towards you.

“We should give it a shot,” Brady husks, hooded eyes trailing down your body and back up again. Suddenly the room feels too cold, the oversized sweater you had on stopped at the top of your thighs, barely covering the pale pink panties you were wearing. The sweater paws gave an air of innocence around you that Brady knew was fake.

“What are you talking about?” you whisper meekly, both concerned about what was going on in that head of his, and intrigued.

“You know how you feel about me,” Brady states - which isn't entirely true anymore, but you don’t interrupt. “I don’t know how I feel about you, and neither of us actually knows if this-” he motions between the two of you “-is it for us, so I say, we give it a shot and see how it feels. Let’s give it until we go back?”

When did he get so close to you? Brady’s taking more steps forward, and you’re taking as many steps back, until the back of your thighs hit the corner of the bed and you instinctively sit.

Which - in retrospect, was probably a mistake, because now Brady towers over you even more than before and now - you’re really intrigued. His fingers trail over your jaw, thumb swiping gently across your bottom lip.

You part your lips out of habit, eyes widen when you realize what you’ve done. Brady laughs darkly when he catches your slip up, stroking your face affectionately.

His thumb slips between your lips for a moment, and your eyes flutter shut as your cheeks hollow around him.

“Look at me,” he commands softly, and you do, opening your eyes to stare up at him again; Brady, your best friend. He smiles proudly, murmuring a soft, “Good girl.”

The words are uttered at the same time he withdraws from your warm mouth, wrapping his fingers gently around your throat. You can’t help the whine that escapes, mortified when Brady’s grin widens.

He leans down, mouth next to your ear to whisper, “Matty always did like it when they’re needy. Needy girls drive us crazy.”

Really, the thought of Matt shouldn’t be driving you crazy, but it is. And when you feel Brady’s nose nudge against yours, his mouth just millimeters from you - your biggest fantasy for nearly 20 years - you knew you were going to hell.

A needy moan escapes your throat before Brady’s hand tightens around your throat and you give in, looping your arms around his neck. You pull him down to meet your lips, nearly clawing at him in your desperation.

Faintly, you think that this is a bad idea, this would only hurt you more later on.

But the longer you kissed him, the less you cared about the consequences. You wanted - you needed Brady so fucking bad right now you were willing to deal with whatever the aftermath presented you with. Brady’s other hand finds the bottom of your sweater, slipping underneath the fabric to lay against your rib cage.

You needed more.

“Brady,” you whine as you break away from his lips, tugging at his hoodie. “Need you.” Brady chuckles darkly, tugging you by your throat to kiss him again.

“Ask nicely,” he husks against your mouth.

“Please,” you whimper again, pulling harder at the fabric to just get him closer. “Please, Brady, I need you so bad.”

“Try again.” Brady pushes you - nearly tosses you really - further up the bed with a snarl, ignoring the yelp you let out at the suddenness of his mood shift. You stare up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. You're unsure of your next words.

“Please…Daddy?”

A cocky smirk pulls at the corner of his lips. “Not quite.”

You think for a moment, watching him bring his hand behind his back and pull his shirt over his head. The dark look he gives you makes you shrink, as if to say ‘Still?’.

Suddenly your eyes light up, and Brady can see it. He's already on the bed, crawling up your body as you attempt to control your breath. The words are barely out before he's kissing you again.

“Please sir?”

Brady groans into your mouth when he hears you say the words, slotting himself between your thighs to grind his hips against yours. You mewl into his mouth when his clothed cock catches against your clit, pushing your hips up against him for more. He growls as he pulls away again, swatting your thigh as a warning.

“Careful, princess,” Brady warns - voice low and dangerous - and his grip on your hip so tight you knew there would be bruises in the morning, “or I won't be.” His words are thick with intention, both a threat and a promise.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe shakily, letting yourself fall against the sheets to look up at him.

Brady’s eyes soften for a moment, reaching up to brush your hair out of your eyes. “Hi,” he whispers, leaning down to steal a kiss.

“Hi,” comes your response. He steals another kiss before pulling away again, and you can't help but think that he looks beautiful like this.

I love you. I'm in love with you.

You want to say it, the voice inside you is screaming it. It’s screaming for you to say it, and Brady is looking at you almost like he wants you to too.

The feeling of his hands pushing your sweater up distracts you from your plight. Brady’s movement is slow, and he’s looking at you intensely, giving you time to stop him. You only nod, and the softness is gone as soon as it had come. You lift your arms to help him bring the material over your head. He tosses the sweater to the side, catching your wrists when you reach for him. He guides them back over your head, smirking as you suppress a shudder when he leans in a whispers against your mouth. “Be a good girl and keep your hands there princess.”

You nod quickly, grasping the sheets in anticipation. Another slap to your thigh has you rethinking.

“I’m sorry!” you gasp. “Yes, sir.”

Brady hums in acknowledgment, kissing down your throat until he’s staring up at you from the valley between your breasts. You whine softly when he pulls a nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing the harden peak before soothing it with his tongue. His hand is pinching and pulling at your other nipple, making your noises significantly louder. He alternates, playing with your nipples until they're swollen and sensitive and sore.

He sits back on his heels to look at you, hands on your knees now, sliding up your thighs. His eyes roam your body unabashedly, while his fingers play with the waistband of your panties. There's a burning look in his eyes as he says, “You're gorgeous. You're so fucking beautiful.”

You don't know why hearing him say it makes you tear up. Brady had told you that you were pretty before, that you cleaned up nice, always telling you how hot you were when he'd see you dressed up before events. He was your own personal hype man but he'd never called you beautiful.

Not like this.

Not like Matty.

The thought makes your blood run cold.

“Please,” you mewl, starting to reach for Brady before remembering what he told you. Your hands fly back above your head, twisting in the sheets, whispering, “I’m sorry, sir, I forgot.”

Brady smiles softly, slipping his finger under the waistband of your panties, tugging on it before letting it snap back against your skin. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss softly at your stomach. “Trying so hard to be good for me.” He shuffles himself backwards as he kisses his way down your body, sliding your panties down your legs at the same time until they've fallen to the floor.

“Wait,” you say softly, causing Brady to pause, his expression quizzical. “Please, I need you.”

Brady grins wickedly. “Just a taste princess.”

It turns out, ‘a taste’ actually means Brady edging you with his tongue until you were nearly crying. He's brought you to the brink three times now, each time getting you closer and closer before pulling away. At this point he's holding your hips down and your hands are as tangled in the sheets as you could get them, not wanting the repercussions of disobeying.

Brady’s tongue is sliding through your folds again when you finally break.

“Please!” you sob, tears finally sliding down your cheeks as your back arches from the pleasure. “Please, Brady, please, sir, please please, I- I need - please just - fuck - please.”

Brady hums against your cunt, the vibrations tearing a scream from your throat. Suddenly the warmth of Brady’s mouth is gone, leaving you chasing him with a buck of your hips. He pins you back down again easily, his lips glistening as he smirks. You hate the way the sleazy look on his face does it for you.

It reminds you of Matt.

You whine again, wiggling your hips as much as you could in Brady’s grip. “Please just fuck me,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. You feel his lips press against your hip, smiling against your skin.

“Anything my girl wants, she gets,” he murmurs against your skin.

My girl. The words echo over and over again in your head. My girl my girl my girl.

Two words you've been waiting years to hear come out of his mouth, and the only thing you could think of was how you liked it better when Matty said it.

Your eyes stay shut as Brady kisses up your body, fingertips dancing over your skin. His mouth finds yours, emptying your brain of all other thoughts but him.

“You ready for me, pretty girl?” he asks you, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek gently, wiping your tears away. Your eyes flutter open, to look at him, nodding as you bite your lip. His thumb tugs your lip out from between your teeth as you feel the tip of his dick brush against your thigh. You didn't even realize that he had taken off the rest of his clothes, but you weren't complaining. Not with him so close like this.

“Please,” you whimper, and after stealing another kiss, Brady sinks into your heat.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, gripping the back of your thigh to spread your legs even further. “You're so fucking tight, fuck you feel so good.” Once he’s bottomed out, Brady leans down to kiss you, swallowing your desperate noises.

He gives you little time to adjust, and really - you don't need it considering the way he tortured you with his mouth and fingers. You're whining into his mouth as his hips move against you, the drag off his cock inside you so fucking good after being denied like you were.

You're close already, and Brady knows, delivering sharp thrusts and hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars.

He finally breaks from your lips, breathing heavily as his hips slam into your cunt. “I'm so close,” you tell him, gripping the sheets above your head so hard you feel like you might rip them. “Please, please let me cum, sir, please.”

It seems like Brady finally thinks you've had enough torture, because he brings his hand from your thigh to your clit, rubbing quick tight circles. “You've been so good for me baby,” he grunts, his other hand holding him up so he can look down at you. “Come on baby, you can touch me now, come on princess, cum for me.”

That's all it takes to send you over the edge. Your hands come flying from above your head to grasp at Brady, his shoulders, his back, tangling in his hair, anything to just touch him. You cry out as your orgasm hits, your back arching under Brady as he relentlessly fucks you through it.

You faintly register Brady’s filthy encouragement in your ears, telling you how good you are for doing what he says, for not touching him this whole time, for cumming for him like this. You writhe against him as you feel him spill into you, grunting as he fucks into you, chasing his orgams with shallow, sloppy thrusts. It feels like you've been riding your high forever; your vision is blurry when you finally come down.

Brady’s breath is hot on your neck, his hands stroking your skin gently as the two of you catch your breath. He shushes you gently as you moan when he pulls out of you. Brady practically collapses next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He peppers kisses across your skin, nudging his nose against your cheek to grab your attention.

You can barely turn your head, suddenly so tired you feel like you'll pass out right that second. “Hi,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. You hum and bury your face in his neck.

“‘M sleepy,” you mumble against his skin, eliciting a soft laugh from him.

“Then sleep,” he says, before smirking devilishly, “don't worry there's lots more where that came from, but in the morning.” You snort at his words, squeezing the back of his neck before burying your fingers in his curls.

“Night, B,” you mumble.

“Goodnight, buttercup.”

Matthew was going to kill his brother. He was going to straight up murder him. On top of not being there to pick him up from the airport, he also didn't answer any texts or calls from Matt.

So yeah, when Matthew got home, he was going to kill Brady. When the Uber finally pulls up in front of him, Matthew is nearly halfway done with his plan to get away with it.

He fiddles with his phone as the driver pulls away from the curb, scanning the random notifications that he had popped up when he got off the plane. It's when he opens up Instagram that he really pays attention, the 3 stories in a row at the top of his feed catching his eye.

Taryn’s, yours, and Brady’s. Against his better judgement, he taps Taryn’s magenta-rimmed profile picture. The story takes a moment to load, but when it does, he sees a picture of you in front of the Tkachuk’s Christmas tree. You had your arms out in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the fingers barely poking out through the sleeves of your sweater. Taryn’s caption reads “didn’t need an angel for the tree cause we already got @y/n/y/l/n”. He can't help but smile fondly, so distracted by how cute you look that he just stares at you until the time is up - but not before pressing on the screen so he could screenshot the photo.

Your first story was a repost of Taryn’s, a simple white heart emoji in the bottom corner. The second was a shot of the TV in the Tkachuk’s living room displaying the Grinch’s title. The caption reads “heart grows two sizes bigger when i’m home :)”. The location is tagged as St. Louis, with Taryn and Brady tagged in the corner of the photo. The third post makes his blood run cold, it's a video of you and Brady, your back against his chest as you lay on the couch, the caption the cross-eyed emoji and Brady’s handle. Brady is facing away from the camera in the beginning of the video, your eyebrows raised as you wait for him to notice. When he does he laughs and reaches for your phone. The video cuts off there.

Matthew taps the left side of his screen to replay it, an unpleasant feeling twisting in his gut. He doesn't want to watch Brady’s story, but he taps the right side of his screen anyways. It's a photo of you on the couch, one knee pulled up to your chest with the other in Brady’s lap, and a glass of wine in your hand. Your hair is piled into a messy bun on top of your head as you wink at the camera and make a peace sign with your free hand, tongue peaking out of the corner of your mouth.

Matt screenshots the picture.

He’s angry; angry because his brother left him stranded at the airport. Angry because he said he hadn't spoken to you either, that you didn't answer any of his texts and calls since that night. He's angry because Brady managed to get you back, and Matt didn't.

Matty’s angry because he loves you, and he's pretty sure you still love Brady.

When the car finally pulls up to the house, he’s almost relieved. He notes that the lights are off downstairs as he lets himself in, pausing when he sees your shoes still by the door. The glow of the TV is visible in the living room, and as Matt pads towards it, the uneasy feeling grows.

There's two partially filled glasses of wine on the coffee table, as well as yours and Brady’s phones. He taps on Brady’s phone, revealing the unread texts and unanswered calls from Matt, as well as an unread text from Chantal, telling Brady that he would have to be the one to pick up Matty from the airport.

The pit in Matt’s stomach only deepens as he climbs the stairs, duffle bag in hand. He goes slowly, trying to prolong his inevitable heartbreak, but it doesn't change what he sees at the top.

Brady’s bedroom door is half open, the light from the hallway streaming in.

Matthew knows it's a bad idea when he takes one, two, three steps and he's in front of Brady’s door. He takes a deep breath and pokes his head inside the room. The sight nearly knocks the wind out of him.

You're tucked under Brady’s arm, your nose squished against his cheek and your hand curled around his neck. He can see the bare skin of your back and stomach pressed against Brady’s bare torso. A blanket covers the both of you from the waist down. Brady’s hair is a mess, and so is yours, and suddenly Matt feels nauseous.

He feels like he would do anything - anything - to make the feeling in his chest go away. It feels like pressure, too much pressure, in his chest, and he nearly clutches his heart. The blood is rushing in his ears, he can't breathe, he feels dizzy.

Why does it hurt so much?

Before he can think it through he’s stumbling to his room. He kicks the door shut behind him, tossing the duffle back on the floor near his bed. His hands are reaching for the backpack on his shoulders and pulling out his laptop before it even hits the ground. He doesn't even sit, placing the laptop on his bed and bending down to type into the search bar.

He barely pays attention to the final amount when he hits “confirm” - he has more money than he knows what to do with anyways. The moment it’s done he sighs, watching the Gmail notification light up on his phone.

“Flight Confirmation, December 23rd, 2020 11:25 pm

St. Louis, Missouri to Calgary, Canada”

#hehe #matthew tkachuk #brady tkachuk #calgary flames #ottawa senators #nhl imagine #hockey #smut #matthew tkachuk imagine #brady tkachuk imagine #angst #all for you series

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grailfinders · 3 years

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Fate and Phantasms #147: Gorgon

Today on Fate and Phantasms we’re making the one goddess of the three goddess alliance who actually had some skin in the game, Gorgon! This misbegotten monstrosity of a Medusa is made of a Undead Warlock for some scary surprises and the ability to make all her enemies into statues as well as a Rune Knight Fighter for a bit of help winning at basketball.

Check out her build breakdown below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: Purrsonally I purrfurred Tamamo Cat, but ny’all can pick whichefur you want!

Race and Background

Sadly there aren’t any large player races, but we can still go Yuan Ti for all the goodies you get from there! As a snerson (snake person), you come equipped with Darkvision, Innate Spellcasting for Poison Spray and Animal Friendship (to snakes) at will. Starting at third level, you’ll also be able to use Suggestion once per long rest. All these spells use Charisma to cast. Finally, you get a defensive buff thanks to Magic Resistance and Poison Immunity. The former gives you advantage on saves against magic, while the latter makes you immune to poison damage and the poisoned condition.

Since you’re the only goddess in the alliance that believes in the destruction of humanity, we’ll call you the Goddess Alliance Cultist, but we’re messing with the background a bit, so instead you’ll get proficiency with Athletics and Religion.

Ability Scores

If you want monstrous Strength, you better be ready to invest a lot in it. As a walking apocalypse, you’re pretty scary-that’s Charisma. You can’t be a video game boss without plenty of Constitution either, so make that #3. Your strongest weapons are based on your eyesight, so make Wisdom next. Surprisingly enough Guda didn’t try to defeat the giant rampaging monster with a math quiz, so we’ll just have to assume your Intelligence is average. That means we’re dumping Dexterity. You are literally a giant target, it’s not that surprising.

Class Levels

1. Fighter 1: Fighters start off with a better hit die, plus you get proficiency with Strength and Constitution saves as well as Intimidation and Survival checks. Your Unarmed Fighting Style lets you punch people for 1d6 damage, or 1d8 if both your hands are empty. You’re not big on “weapons”, so that’s fine by you. You also get a Second Wind, letting you regrow some snake heads as a bonus action. I might be getting my myths mixed up.

2. Warlock 1: Quite a bit of your power is coming on loan from Tiamat, and she literally can’t die, making you an Undead warlock. This gives you Pact Magic, spells you cast with Charisma that recharge on short rests. You also gain a Form of Dread, transforming a little bit into Tiamat for 1 minute. While transformed, you gain temporary HP, can force a wisdom save (DC 8+proficiency+charisma mod) to frighten a creature you attack once per turn, and you become immune to being frightened yourself. You can transform proficiency times per long rest.

Going back to spells, you get a lot of them thanks to your background. For cantrips, you get Fire Bolt and Vicious Mockery, and for first level spells you get Burning Hands, Dissonant Whispers, and Hellish Rebuke. There’s a lot of fire in there, but we can reflavor it in a couple of levels, don’t worry.

As far as spells we can choose, you get Blade Ward to make up for the 9 AC you’re rocking by gaining resistance on most physical attacks, Eldritch Blast to shoot snake hair at your foes, Armor of Agathys to make attacking you a losing proposition thanks to your temporary HP and counterattack, and Arms of Hadar for more snakes, turning the area within 10′ of you into a snake pit.

3. Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations, letting you customize your eternal servitude how you see fit. We’re swapping one next level, but use the other to get Armor of Shadows, boosting your 9 AC to an amazing 12 AC! Wow!

You also learn the spell Hex, cursing someone to deal 1d6 extra necrotic damage and giving disadvantage on one kind of ability check.

4. Fighter 2: Second level fighters get an Action Surge, letting you slap an extra action onto your turn once per short rest. Raid bosses can cheat the action economy a bit, everyone knows that.

5. Warlock 3: Gorgon did give us a bit of trouble when it came to their pact boon- she doesn’t use weapons, doesn’t rely on familiars, and she’s definitely not a bookwyrm. By process of elimination, you’ve earned the Pact of the Talisman, giving you a trinket that can add 1d4 to a failed ability check proficiency times per long rest.

That alone isn’t particularly scary, but the invocation Rebuke of the Talisman lets you deal a bit of psychic damage and push an attacking creature away from you as a reaction.

You also get the prerequisite flood of second level spells- from your background, you get Crown of Madness, Enthrall, and Flaming Sphere. Honestly I think Enthrall works for you- it’s not like there’s something out there that’s more distracting than you, right?

You also learn Hold Person for baby’s first petrification.

6. Warlock 4: If your AC’s really going to be that bad, we should at least use this Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Constitution for better HP. You also learn Infestation to summon your first Demonic Beasts (they’re just small) and Earthbind to stone up flying creatures enough to force them to land.

7. Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks get another invocation and third level spells! From your background you get Fear and Haste, both of which are actually in character for you! You also learn to Summon Lesser Demons for some small-fry demonic beasts. Just remember you don’t actually count as a demon yourself in D&D, so they will happily kill you as soon as anyone else.

You also get the invocation Cloak of Flies, giving you a poisonous 5′ aura that you can invoke as a bonus action once per short rest. The aura gives you advantage on intimidation checks, but disadvantage on all other checks, and deals damage to anything within it equal to your charisma modifier. Just be glad Guda didn’t summon your other sisters.

8. Warlock 6: Sixth level undeadlocks are Grave Touched, meaning you no longer need to eat, drink or breathe- the full servant experience! You can also replace the damage of any attack with necrotic damage, and while your Form of Dread is up, you add an extra die of damage to the attack as well!

You also learn how to make a Spirit Shroud, dealing extra necrotic, cold, or radiant damage on all attacks you make within 10′ of yourself. You also slow down creatures that start their turn in the shroud.

9. Fighter 3: As a Rune Knight, you become a Rune Carver, letting you stick runes on weapons, armor, jewelry, or other small objects for small bonuses-you can also invoke them once per short rest for bigger bonuses.

The Fire rune doubles your tool proficiencies, and you can also invoke the rune add extra fire (or necrotic) damage to the attack. If it fails a strength save (dc 8+proficiency+intelligence modifier) it becomes restrained, and takes extra fire damage each turn.

The Stone rune gives advantage on insight checks, and gives you extended darkvision. You can also use your reaction to charm creatures who end their turn near you, leaving them incapacitated if they fail a wisdom save.

More importantly, you also get Giant Might, using a bonus action to grow to Large size for a minute. While transformed, you have advantage on strength checks and save, and deal an extra d6 damage per weapon attack. You can transform proficiency times per long rest.

10. Warlock 7: Seventh level warlocks get fourth level spells. From your background: Confusion and Wall of Fire. Neither are great for us, but you also get Shadow of Moil, making attacking you an even worse idea thanks to a necrotic counterattack.

You also get the invocation Protection of the Talisman, letting you add a d4 to a failed save proficiency times per long rest.

11. Warlock 8: Use this ASI to bump up your Charisma for better spells, and to make it easier to control your new spell, Summon Greater Demon. For up to an hour, you can summon a demon of CR 5 or lower. If it continually fails a charisma save each turn, it will obey you. Otherwise it’ll run wild. Honestly? Both work for you.

12. Warlock 9: Fifth level spell time! You know what? Since we’re not making a Tiamat build, we might as well have some fun with the primordial sea while we still can. Dominate Person, Danse Macabre, and Minions of Chaos will help you raise a Ushiwakamaru Alter army in whatever flavor you prefer- living, undead, or elemental!

13. Warlock 10: Our last undead goody makes you a Mortal Husk, giving you resistance to necrotic damage (or immunity while using Form of Dread). On top of that, once per 1d4 long rests you can blow up your body when you hit 0 HP, dealing necrotic damage in the area and reviving yourself with 1 HP. It’s one hell of a guts skill, but it does give you some exhaustion.

We also continue our Ushiwakamarufication tour with Negative Energy Flood, a spell that deals tons of necrotic damage and turns a target into a zombie if it kills them. It can even heal your existing zombiwakamarus!

14. Warlock 11: Your Mystic Arcanum gives you the option to cast Flesh to Stone once per long rest. If a targeted creature fails a constitution save three times, they become stone. If they succeed three times, they escape. If you keep concentration on the spell for the full minute while they’re petrified, it lasts until dispelled.

15. Warlock 12: Our last warlock level is another ASI, which we’re putting into Constitution for better concentration checks and more HP. You also get the invocation Sculptor of Flesh, letting you cast Polymorph once per long rest. Have you ever wanted to actually be a giant snake? Now you can! (You can also do, like, a T. Rex, if you wanna powergame.)

16. Fighter 4: Another ASI already? Bump up your Strength for better punching. That’ll be relevant soon.

17. Fighter 5: It’s soon! This level gives you an Extra Attack each attack action, for two punches per action, or four in a turn with Action Surge.

18. Fighter 6: Use this ASI to bump up your Constitution for even more HP.

19. Fighter 7: Seventh level rune knights can use their Runic Shield to force a creature to re-roll their attack when they hit an ally. You can do this proficiency times per long rest. You also get the Hill rune, which has absolutely useless passives, but you can invoke it as a bonus action to get resistance to physical attacks for a minute.

20. Fighter 8: You thought we were gonna max out our constitution this level, right? WRONG! Grab that Tough feat for an extra 40 HP!

Pros:

Thanks to your Spirit Shroud being forcibly maxed out, you have terrifying short range damage options. With an action surge, your Form of Dread, and two eldritch blasts, you can deal 16d10+24d8 Necrotic damage in a single turn, and that’s not even including any critical hits! That gives you an average damage just shy of 200, and a possible maximum of 352. Plus rolling that many dice is probably really satisfying.

Adding to that, you have plenty of other reasons for enemies to avoid melee range- your counterattack game is wild. Armor of Agathys, Hellish Rebuke, Shadow of Moil, Cloak of Flies... getting too close to you really is dangerous.

For a mostly spellcaster build, you are incredibly thick. With over 200 hp and a couple different ways to give yourself protection from most attacks, it will take a lot of hits to topple this kaiju.

Cons:

Speaking of a lot of hits, you’ll be taking those! Your AC is only 12, 14 at best if you’re hasted. Of course this problem could be solved with some heavy armor, but I doubt they make it in your size.

You also have a heavy focus on Necrotic damage, meaning that your options will become much more limited against undead, Aasimar, and demons.

Speaking of, you summon Demons. That’s kind of a deal breaker for a lot of adventuring parties. It’s not even like you could keep a low profile for plausible deniability, people are going to notice the big snake lady hanging around the demon attacks.

#Fate Grand Order #fgo #D&D 5e #Gorgon #DND 5e #Warlock #Fighter

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kiddoryder · 3 years

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Hidden Blind Rage

Wow...It’s been since I wrote a fanfic huh? Well I’m really sorry about that. I mean you have to admit, 2020 was hell with all the crazy stuff that was happening I felt stress and lost my happy and spark on writing.

But thanks to the new year and new Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel clips and episodes coming out, I feel back and better than ever!

So this story is about one of my best friends Lolli-Momo1908 OC Blitz going through a struggle on the day of his and Sophie’s parents’ death.

So relax and enjoy the story!

Blitz, Sophie, their parents and Ryan belong to @loli-momo1908

An alarm was ringing loudly, and Blitz sleepily turned it off. He sat up and yawned and scratched his back. Blitz rubbed his eyes and for some reason, instead of feeling like his regular self, he just felt more...depressed and numb. He turned to his calendar and discovered why: Today was the anniversary of his and Sophie’s parents' death thanks to Ryan O’Grady AKA the Evil Eye Killer. Ever since that day, Blitz had the responsibility to take care of his baby sister Sophie from the danger of their life in Hell.

Blitz felt like he didn’t want to do anything but sleep on this terrible grim day, but he knew he had one job he can never quit on, and that was taking care of his sister. Blitz got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash up and change his clothes. After putting on his clothes, he began to brush his teeth and come his hair. When he was done, he looked in the mirror to his hair, but he saw a flashback of fire and Ryan’s evil smile. Blitz shook his hair and saw nothing. He sighed in sadness and heard a knock on the door. Blitz got out the bathroom and saw Sophie.

Blitz - “Oh hey Sophie. What’s up?”

Sophie - *a little sad and nervous* “Hi Blitzy. I saw on my calendar what today is...Are we going to be okay?”

Blitz saw how unsure Sophie was feeling. Hating to make his baby sister sad, Blitz kneeled down to her height and said:

Blitz - “Don't worry Sophie. I know today is a hard and sad day for us but trust me: things will get better.”

Sophie - *smiles* “Thank you big brother. And I know someday Mommy and Daddy will come back to us soon.”

Those words struck Blitz’s heart like a knife. He didn’t have the heart to tell her there’s a chance their parents aren’t coming back. However, he feels like want to keep that hope for Sophie’s sake so she wouldn’t be feeling depressed.

Blitz - *smiles* “Yeah. That’s right. Someday they will come back but soon. Let’s go get some breakfast.”

()()()()()()()()

Downstairs they saw Niffty making some breakfast. Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, and Angel Dust was sitting on the table waiting for breakfast to be done.

Blitz - “Morning everybody.”

Charlie - “Oh good morning Blitz and Sophie! How you guys slept?”

Blitz - *shrugs* “Okay I guess.”

Niffty - “Ooh! Hello guys! Do you want some breakfast? I’m making some pancakes and bacon!”

Sophie - “Ooh yes please!”

Blitz - “To be honest, I’ll just have some coffee.”

Niffty - “Coffee? Are you sure? I mean big growing men like you need their strength from food so you can have big strong muscles.”

Blitz - “It’s fine Niffty. I’m not that hungry anyway.”

Niffty - “Well alright.”

Blitz sat down to Angel looking a bit sad. Angel noticed and said:

Angel - “Are you alright Blitz?”

Blitz - *depressed* “Huh? Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

Angel - “Are ya sure? You don’t seem like your regular self.”

Blitz - “I’m fine Angel. I’m just a little tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Angel - “Oh Blitz. You know you are always welcome to sleep in my bed for some *flirty* fun nights.”

Blitz’s left eye twitch a bit, and then he bopped Angel on the head with his fist.

Blitz - “Don't go horny on me dumbass! Besides, I’m not in the mood for your flirty games.”

Then there was a knock on the door.

Charlie - “I’ll get it.”

Charlie got up from her seat and opened the door. She saw it was her youngest cousin Sonya holding her book bag.

Sonya - “Hey Cousin Charlie!”

Charlie - “Oh hey Sonya!”

Charlie gave her a baby cousin a big hug. Even Liz in her shadow form hugged her as well. Charlie let her cousin inside the hotel and into the kitchen.

Charlie - “Hey guys! Guess who joined us for breakfast.”

Husk - “Oh. You brought the weird little boy over. Great.”

Sonya - *annoyed* “I’m a weird little girl.”

Husk - *shrugged* “Whatever.”

Sophie - “Hi Sonya! Hi Lizzy!”

Sonya - *chuckles* “Liz said “Hi Squirt.”

Sophie giggled and Blitz slightly smiled and shook his head. Sonya sat down and began to eat some breakfast.

Angel - “So kid, what’s bring you here? In this so-called lovely hotel?”

Sonya - “My parents went out of town for a week and said I have to come here.”

Angel - “Can’t you and Liz stay home by yourself? I mean you both are like what? 12?”

Vaggie - *annoyed* “They are 11 Angel. They are still a little too young.”

Angel - *scoff* “Oh please at their age not only I was already staying home by myself, but I already learned how to learn how to use a gun.”

Husk - “At that age, I already knew how to mix drinks.”

Blitz look down and look a bit sad. He remembers how when he was 11 years old, he would spend a lot of time with his parents. He would cook with his mother, his father would read books to him, and his parents would always comfort him whenever he was feeling down. Then Blitz snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Sonya moaning and rolling her in annoyance.

Charlie - “What is it Sonya?”

Sonya - “It’s my parents. They keep asking me questions like if I’m alright and stuff. They should know that I'm okay cause Liz and I are tough, and I’m with you guys. *sighs* they can be such a pain in the butt sometimes. I mean, we are almost teenagers I don’t need them to keep hovering over me and Liz. We aren’t babies.

Blitz - *stand up, points at her and snapped* “Hey! Be lucky you and Liz actually have parents that care and love you alright?!”

Everybody looked shocked at Blitz outburst. They never saw Blitz yelled at a kid like that. Even Sophie looked appalled on how her big brother yelled at her friend. Blitz realized what he had done and then slump back down in his seat.

Blitz - *guilty and embarrassed* “Sonya I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to yell at you. I...Didn’t sleep well last night and I've been feeling a little tense.”

Charlie - *concerned* “Maybe you should go upstairs to rest.”

Blitz - “Yeah...Good idea.”

Blitz got out of his seat and went upstairs to his room. Everybody was still shocked on Blitz behavior.

Husk - “Geez what’s the hell up his ass?”

Sophie - “Blitz is sad. Today is the day we lost our Mommy and Daddy.”

Now everybody at the table looks concerned and sad. They should have known today was going to be a hard day for Blitz and Sophie.

Angel - *concerned* “Oh my poor Blitzy Que. No wonder he’s all upset.”

Vaggie - “Are you alright Sophie?”

Sophie - “Yeah. I mean, I know it’s sad, but I know someday Mommy and Daddy will come back. It’s Blitzy I’m worried about.``

Charlie - “Maybe we should let Blitz rest it off. I’m sure he needs it for a day like this.”

()()()()()()()()

Blitz was laying down on his bed. He was trying to rest. But he couldn’t. All he could think about that awful day Ryan came and lost his parents. He tried to think of something else, but he couldn’t.

“You’re a failure kid.”

Blitz’s ears twitched and his eyes widened. He turned around and saw Ryan in the mirror. Blitz walked up to the mirror and his eyes turned red.

Blitz - “Shut up.”

Ryan - “Let face it. You can’t protect your ass from me anymore.”

Blitz - “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Ryan - “I know deep down you’re just a scared sad little boy. You’re afraid I’ll hunt you and killed you and your baby sister the way I killed your parents. I’m getting ready for that. And when that day comes. You will die.”

Blitz - “No you won’t! I’ll still fight you no matter what!”

Ryan - “That what your father said and look what happened to him. Face it, you’re a failure to parents because you fail to protect them. Just like you’re gonna fail to protect your sister. You’re a disgrace to them.”

Blitz - *angry* “SHUT UP!!”

He punched the mirror so hard that it broke into pieces. Blitz snapped out his thoughts and realize that he was just going through a hallucination. He winces in pain and saw how his hand had some glass shards and was bleeding. Blitz went to the bathroom, got some bandages, and began to take out the glass shards first, the. wrap up his hand. Then he heard on the knock on the door and when Blitz went to open it, it was Angel.

Angel - “You okay?”

Blitz - “I’m fine why?”

Angel - “Well I- *see his bandage hand* What happens to your hand?”

Blitz - *tries to cover it up* “I just had a little accident with my mirror that’s all.”

Angel - *disbelief* “Accident? Really? Tell me the truth.”

Blitz - “It’s none of your business Angel.”

Angel rolled his eyes and said:

Angel - “Look babe, I’m worried about ya. I mean you act so...tense and stuff. Even ya sister worried about you because of what happened.”

Blitz - “Look, it something I can deal with on my own. Can we just drop it okay?”

Just when Angel was about to say something, he heard a ring on his phone. He looked at his phone to see who was texting him. Angel grimace and text back on his phone.

Angel - “Look Blitz, I gotta go to work. Please just let me know what’s wrong. You’re one of few people I can fully talk too.”

Blitz just crossed his, turn his back away, and said.

Blitz - “Whatever Angel…”

Angel sadly sighed and left Blitz’s doorway. Blitz looked a bit ashamed on how he acted toward Angel and felt a weird, strange feeling in his chest. It was a mix of pain, yet something that slowly unlocking inside of him. He decides to ignore that feeling.

Blitz - *to himself* “Come on Blitz, you can get through the day.”

()()()()()()()()()

Blitz went downstairs and was now at the hotel’s lobby. He saw Husk mixing some drinks and sat on one of the stools.

Husk - “What the fuck you want?”

Blitz - *annoyed* “Some orange soda please. Big bottle.”

Husk - “Huh. Rare time I get ask for something non-alcohol related drinks.”

Blitz - “Well you should know that I don’t drink.”

Husk - *shrugged* “Whatever.”

As Husk was getting Blitz his drink, Blitz kept looking down in sadness. He felt guilty that not only he snapped at Sonya but ignored and was rude to Angel. Angel was right: Blitz was one of the few people Angel can talk his true feelings too since Angel only trust a few people. Blitz decided when Angel gets back, he will apologize to him. Then Husk gave him a big glass bottle of soda.

Husk - “Here. Go nuts.”

Blitz - *sarcastic* “Geez you really are a ball of sunshine aren’t ya?”

Husk - “Yeah cause my job in this fucking hellhole involve two things I love: drinking and ignoring the shit out of people.”

Blitz rolled his eyes and began to drink his soda. Husk then said:

Husk - “So...The kid told me is the day ya lost your Ma and Pops.”

Blitz - “Which kid told you that?”

Husk - “Your sister.”

Blitz - “Oh right. You don’t know how hard it is. 4 years since that bastard took our parents away and always trying to come after us and kill us.”

Husk - “Well ya only beat the crap of the guy.”

Blitz - “But that doesn’t help with how he killed my parents.”

Husk - “So ya lost your Ma and Pops. Get the fuck over it! Everybody lose people but it’s no excuse to be a fucking crybaby about it. Get the fuck over it!”

Those words made Blitz furious. Blitz took his glass bottle, broke it in half, and grab Husk by the bow tie pulling him close with one hand, and the bottle with his other hand bringing it close to Husk face.

Blitz - *dark and serious with red eyes* “You wanna say that again?”

“Blitz what are you doing?!!”

Blitz turned around and saw Charlie, Vaggie, Sophie, Niffty and Sonya looked appalled at how Blitz was about to hurt Husk with a broken glass bottle. Blitz’s eyes turned back to normal and let go of Husk and drop the bottle on the floor.

Niffty - “Ooh! A mess! I’ll clean it up because a handsome man like Blitz shouldn’t do such a dangerous clean up. It could leave him getting cut and that ruin his looks!”

Niffty quickly got a broom and dustpan and quickly began to clean up. Charlie went to Husk and said:

Charlie - *concerned* “Are you alright Husk?”

Husk - *dust himself* “Eh. I had it worse than just a broken bottle on my face.”

Vaggie - *mad* “Blitz! What were you thinking?!”

Blitz - *defensive* “Look I’m sorry okay! It won’t happen again.”

Charlie - *Blitz this isn't cool at all. I know today is a sad day for you and Sophie, but you shouldn’t lash out at others!”

Blitz - “I wasn’t lashing out!”

Sonya - *calm but serious* “Then what would you have called it?”

Blitz didn’t have an answer to that and was holding his chest. That feeling was coming back again, but stronger. He was trying to keep it down and even hide but his friends look concerned about him.

Vaggie - “Blitz, maybe you should just talk about how you are feeling.”

Blitz - “Don't worry about me. I’ll be okay.”

Sophie - “Blitzy, don't be sad please.”

Blitz - “I’m not sad Sophie. I’m just feeling...something else.”

Sophie - “But this isn’t good on how you are feeling! Mommy and Daddy wouldn’t like this for you.”

Blitz - “Well Mommy and Daddy aren’t here anymore Sophie.”

Sophie - “I know but if you have huge hopes like me, they will come back someday.”

Blitz - *snapping* "They're not coming back, alright?! So, just shut up about it!

Then, Blitz noticed how the girls looked appalled. Even Husk had a disgusted look on his face. Blitz didn’t understand why, but when he looked down, he saw what always broke his heart: Sophie had tears in his eyes and looked shocked and hurt on how her older brother had just yelled at her.

Blitz - *regretfully* “Sophie...I-I’m so sorry I-I…”

Can’t find any words to excuse his actions, Blitz just ran out the hotel door. He was deeply ashamed on how he took out his anger on his own sister. The last person he would want to hurt. Sophie saw her brother leaving and said:

Sophie - “Big bro! Wait!”

Sophie was about to run after him, but Sonya gently held Sophie’s arm.

Sonya - “Sophie, let Blitz go.”

Vaggie - “Yeah she’s right. I think he needs some time to cool down.”

Sophie - *worried* “But will he come back?”

Charlie - *kneeled down and hug Sophie* “Aw don’t worry sweetie. Blitz will come back; he just needs some time.

()()()()()()()()()()

Blitz kept walking in the city not caring about the dangers or yelling of other demons. What was stuck in his head right now is how he yelled at his own baby sister. The last thing he wanted to do Sophie was to hurt her and feeling horribly guilty. Today not only he hurt Sophie, but he hurt his friends too. All they wanted to do is just help Blitz and cheer him up, and he just pushed them away. The feeling in his chest was getting stronger and he kept trying to hide them. He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to let it out. Blitz kept on walking until he heard a disgusting voice that he hated beside Ryan’s.

“Well, Well, Well. Look what the cat, or should I say bat brought of the bag.”

Blitz turned his head and saw Valentino standing outside his Porn Studio building. Valentino had two women in his arms and was smoking his cigarette and did a mocking smile. Blitz rolled his eyes and said:

Blitz - “What the fuck you want?”

Valentino - “What? I can’t say hello?”

Blitz - “I don’t have time for your shit.”

Valentino - “Oh what’s the matter? Having a bad day? Why don’t you cry to your mama and daddy? Or you don’t have any? Which wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

Valentino began to mockingly laugh at Blitz. Blitz felt rage inside of him. Just when he was about to fly and beat the shit out of Valentino, he heard:

“Bosses stop it!”

They both turned and saw Angel Dust. He looked sad and worried about Blitz. He was about to walk toward Blitz, but then Valentino stood in front of him.

Valentino - “Where you think you are going Angel Cakes?”

��Angel - “To comfort Blitzy.”

Valentino - “Oh Angel honey, don’t you remember? You need to play your part in the film “Sex and the City of Sexville.”

Angel - “I-I know Val. But Blitz is more important.”

Angel was going to walk toward Blitz again, but Valentino grabbed Angel’s upper right arm tightly. Angel wince, as Valentino brought him closer to his face look mad.

Valentino - *seriously* “Are you disrespecting me sugar?”

Angel - *glared* “For once, yeah! Because Blitz is more important than your stupid ass fucking movie and your stupid ass fucking face!”

Val raise his hand up high and gave Angel a hard slap to the face and Angel fell on the ground. Just as when Angel was about to get up, Val lift his foot up, and stomp on the right side of Angel’s face very hard. Angel since in pain and Val move his foot a little on Angel’s face and kept moving it like if he was putting out a cigarette.

Valentino - *calm and angry* “You seem to forget Angel: I OWN YOU! YOU are nothing but a toy that I can play with it! Without me, you’re a fucking worthless slut! And maybe you would realize that once I have to punish you again in my room, and make you remember it!!”

Seeing Val hurting Angel Dust in front of him was the last straw. All the anger Blitz felt, the memory of Ryan hurting him, killing his parents, burning down his home, and continue to hunt him and Sophie unleashed. Valentino and Angel then saw Blitz transforming. Blitz’s eyes grew deep red, claws were getting longer, was growing larger, more fur around him, and he was growling. All of a sudden Blitz was now a size of a giant tower and let out a huge roar. He kicked the Porn Studio, and it was into giant piles of rubble. Valentino looked horrified and got his foot of Angel’s face and screamed:

Valentino - *weeping* “My precious porno home! It’s all ruined and gone! *angrily point to giant Blitz* “You're gonna pay for that you motherfucking-“

Blitz lifts up his foot and stomps on Valentino multiple times. Then he let out a huge war and began to walk to the city causing chaos not caring about the screaming demons. Angel got up and not only saw Val in a bloody broken mess but was horrified on how his lover turned into his final demon form.

Angel - “I gotta stop him!”

()()()()()()()()()

At the hotel lobby, Sophie was sadly coloring in her coloring book. Normally she loves to draw and color but was still feeling sad how not only Blitz yelled at her, but then left. She feels like it was her fault for angering her brother and making him leave. Then Sonya came and said:

Sonya - “Hey Sophie it’s okay. Blitz didn’t mean it.”

Sophie - *sad* “But I made him mad…”

Sonya - “People get mad sometimes, but they don’t mean to take it out on the people they love.”

Sophie - “But will Blitzy come back? It's been a long time and I’m worried about him.”

Sonya - “I’m sure he will be back. Come on, let go watch tv with the others.”

Sophie - “Well okay.”

Sonya grabbed Sophie’s hand and they both walk to the couch where Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Niffty was watching TV. As soon they sat down, the 666 News came on.

Katie - “Good afternoon! I’m Katie Killjoy.”

Tom - “And I’m Tom Trench! Chaos is happening today here in Pentagram City as a giant monster demon is attacking the city.”

Katie - “That’s right Tom! Instead of the usual shitty turf wars, this giant monster is destroying half of the city. Let’s take a look.”

The camera show of Blitz in his final demon form roaring and knocking down buildings. Many demons ran away in fear, some even stupidly try to fight back, but they were no match for Blitz in his final demon form. Blitz let out a huge sonic scream that destroyed some building and hurt some demons.

“My ears! I can’t hear anything!”

“My home!”

“My car!”

“My leg!”

Katie - “Ooh this monster is destroying everything shitty thing it sees huh?”

Tom - “I agree Katie. If this keep ups, then the big guns would have to come to take care of this beast.”

Katie - “Ooh that would make more juicy stories and railings will be high! Ooh! Now I’m getting word that this monster is coming toward another building! Can’t wait to see the sorry motherfucking bitches who next.”

Tom - *scared* “Umm...Katie?”

Katie - “What you tiny sick Jackass?”

Tom - “WE are the sorry motherfucking bitches that monster gonna attack!”

Katie - *scared and confused* “Wait what?!”

Then they screamed as Blitz stepped on them, destroy the news station, and the tv went statistic and had a “PLEASE STAND BY”.

Charlie, Vaggie, Sonya, Sophie, Niffty and even Husk’s eyes were widening, and their jaw was dropped.

()()()()()()()()()()

Angel - *running* “Blitz! Blitz! Stop!”

But Blitz didn’t listen. He kept on causing a rampage at the city. Angel saw how some of the demons were running away and stupidly trying to fight back. They were throwing things like rocks, food, drinks, glass bottles, some demons even tried to shoot him with guns. As much as Angel wanted to shoot them for trying to hurt Blitz, he didn’t see any point since those things just bounced off of Blitz like if he was wearing some kind of rubbery armor. However, this just made Blitz angrier and attack more. Not even Sir Pentious’s blimp and his weapons could stop Blitz. Angel was getting scared and concerned about Blitz getting hurt. Then to his horror, he saw Cherri with a bazooka gun about to shoot Blitz.

Cherri - “Say goodnight your giant hairball!”

Just when Cherri was going to shoot, Angel quickly ran and said:

Angel - “NO!”

Angel push Cherri, and she ended up missing and the gun went straight toward a building. Luckily, it missed Blitz, but he was busy causing havoc.

Cherri - *pissed* “Angel! What the hell?! I was gonna shoot that giant monster!”

Angel - “You can’t shoot him!”

Cherri - “Why not?”

Angel - “Cause that’s Blitz!”

Cherri - *shocked* “What?!”

“Angel!”

Angel and Cherri turned around and saw Charlie and the others.

Angel - “Don't hurt him! It’s-“

Vaggie - “We know it’s Blitz! We saw it on the news.”

Sophie - *scared* “Blitz looks so scary! I want him back!”

Charlie - *horrified* “How did he get like this?!”

Angel - *scared* “I-I don’t know! I was at my job, my boss was yelling, and then Blitz turn into that!”

Husk - “That son of a bitch is going to turn the city into dust if we don’t stop him!”

Niffty - “Or worst! They’ll bring out the big guns! I hope we see muscular men!” *get crush by a building piece* I’m okay!”

Cherri - “What the fuck are the big guns anyway?”

Charlie - “A special army that work for my Dad. They would come and destroy monsters that are WAY too strong. They even have angelic weapons!”

All - “WHAT?!”

Sonya - “That's why we have to do something quick! The big guns could really hurt Blitz or worst!”

Sophie - *whimpers* “I don’t want them to hurt my brother!”

Charlie - “Don't worry Sophie we will think of something!”

Cherri - “Well we can’t fight him. He’s too strong!”

Husk - “And I doubt he would listen to any of us.”

Angel - *sad* “Oh...We should have been there more for him! *determined* But we still can! He’s my Blitzy Que and we gotta do whatever it takes to turn him back to the man I love.”

Vaggie - “But we don’t even have a plan!”

The word love rings into Sophie’s ears. She suddenly had an idea. While the others were talking, Sophie began to fly high up in the air. While she didn’t master flying like her brother, she didn’t want it to stop her to help save her brother from rampage. Then Liz said in her shadow form to Sonya:

Liz - *in shadow form* “Uhh dude?”

Sonya - “This isn’t the best time now!”

Liz - “Yes, it is! Cupcake is in the sky!”

Sonya - *confused* “Cupcake in the sky?”

Sonya looked up and saw Sophie flying toward Blitz.

Sonya - *horrified* “HOLY SHIT SOPHIE IS IN THE SKY!!!”

Everybody heard Sonya yelling and they all looked up in the sky. They were all horrified to see Sophie flying toward Blitz who was roaring and destroying a city.

Charlie - *horrified* “SOPHIE! WHAT IN DAD’S NAME ARE YOU DOING?! GET DOWN NOW!!!”

Sophie - “No! I have an idea to save Blitzy!”

Blitz let out a huge roar and continue to destroy buildings. Then he felt something on his chest. He looked down and saw Sophie hugging Blitz tightly on his chest. Despite all the fur, he can see clearly that his baby sister was trying to hug him.

Sophie - “Blitzy! I know you’re in there. I know you are mad what that monster Ryan did to Mommy and Daddy. I know I’m mad too! But acting like this won’t help at all! It makes things worst. You make be scary now, but you’re still the best big brother I know and love. Please come back Blitz.”

Blitz growling went lower and lower, his eyes went from red to normal. The others were seeing this, and Charlie's eyes widened.

Charlie - “Guys! I got an idea!”

Charlie whispered her plan to the others. They all nodded and know exactly what to do. They all ran toward Blitz, jump on things like broken half buildings, cars, and landed on Blitz. Charlie and Sonya landed on his right arm, Niffty and Husk landed on his leg, and Cherri and Vaggie landed on his left arm. They were all giving Blitz a big hug.

Charlie - “Blitz! I know the feelings you are having! Trust me, I feel like that every extermination. You don’t have to hide your deep feelings away! You can always come to me!”

Vaggie - “Yeah! I’m always here if you ever wanted to talk about something that bothers you.”

Sonya - “You have always been there for me! You automatically accepted Liz and I for being a Gemini. We accepted you for how you are! Even in your monster form!”

Cherri - “Hell yeah Blitz! You save mine and Angel asses every time! I don’t mind saving your ass once in a while cause you’re a cool dude!”

Husk - “Listen! You’re one of the few people that I actually like! Even though I enjoy ignoring the fuck out of people, I wouldn’t mind if you talk to me about what problems you have.”

Niffty - “Yeah! Handsome men like you have feelings! We don’t mind your feelings!”

Blitz was seeing how all of his friends, and sister were hugging him and comforting him. He felt tears coming out of his eyes. Blitz was feeling loved but noticed somebody was missing. That when he heard a loud:

“BLITZ!!!”

His eyes looked up, and saw Angel did a really high jump from a tall building. Angel landed on Blitz’s snout and slowly walk up to his eyes and said:

Angel - “Blitz...You don’t have to hide your feelings from us. Especially me. You must have been afraid of showing this side to me but trust me: I’m not scared. If you can let me show my feelings and ugly side to you, I don’t have any problem if you did it to me. I’ll always love and care for you. Just like you always done for me.”

Angel gave Blitz a kiss on his face. Blitz felt tears coming out his eyes and dropping to the ground. He never felt anything like this in a long time. That’s when he began to glow in a big light orb.

()()()()()()()()()()

Blitz groaned and began to open his eyes. He saw that all of his friends were staring at him with relief in their eyes. He slowly sat up and saw that they were not only on top of a building, but Blitz was now back to normal. Despite his clothes being a bit ripped up, he was finally back to his normal self. Blitz’s suddenly felt his waist being held tightly and it was Sophie who was hugging him tightly.

Sophie - “Oh big brother! I’m so glad that you’re okay! I thought I lost you forever!”

Blitz - “Sophie…”

Then was in a tight hug thanks to Angel.

Angel - “Oh Blitz! I’m so glad you are okay! I can’t imagine my life without you!”

Blitz began to remember what Angel and the other said to him while they were hugging him in his final demon form. Then Blitz hugged Angel back tightly. In a rare time, Blitz felt tears coming out of his eyes, and he began to cry. He began to cry hard and kept on hugging Angel tightly as he continued to cry. All Angel did was smile and kept on hugging Blitz who was busy letting out his emotions. The others were smiling in relief that not only Blitz was okay, but finally letting his feelings out.

()()()()()()()()()

Blitz was now in his room staring out his window. It was nighttime and he was in his pajamas. He was thinking about what happened to him. He was shocked on how he has a final demon form that was extremely deadly. However, Blitz already knew that everybody in Hell has a demon form that was deadly. Even a sweet person like Charlie has a final demon that was extremely deadly. He did felt relief that he has all his feelings out, but something was still that wasn’t relief yet. Then he heard a knock on the door, and it was Angel in his comfy pajamas.

Angel - “You okay hon?”

Blitz - “To be honest in a way yeah…”

Angels walk up to Blitz and they both stared out the window. For a place like Hell, the night did look really beautiful.

Angel - “Really nice night huh?”

Blitz - *chuckles* “Yeah…Angel...Did you really mean those words you said to me when I was...A beast?”

Angel - “Of course I did. Why?”

Blitz - “It just...I never been in my final demon like that. I was afraid that I could have hurt you and Sophie. I can’t believe that I transformed into my final demon form. I mean I cause havoc in Hell.”

Angel - *comforting* “Aw babe don’t worry about it. I mean some of the building was old and shitty anyway. Some of them are getting rebuilt. Besides, it’s Hell. Nobody gave a shit.”

Blitz - “I know but…It was so horrifying to find out that I have this side of me that could be deadly.”

Angel - “We all have that. It’s Hell. But you didn’t mean to turn into your final demon form.”

Blitz - “I was just so angry. I was angry on how that bastard Ryan took away my parents, always trying to hunt me and Sophie down. How even once kidnapped you and beat you to the point you had to go to the hospital. I’m most angry at myself…I took my anger at you guys and almost push you away…”

Angel - Blitz listen to me *held his hand and cup his face* Even though it’s great that you care about others, sometimes you need to care about yourself as well. If you don’t, you became a big mess.”

Blitz’s eyes grew in surprised. It’s one of the rare time Angel actually made valid point when he wasn’t being an asshole or trying to make excuses of his destructive action. Blitz realize his parents wouldn’t just want him to take care of Sophie, but himself as well. He wouldn’t be any good if he didn’t take care of himself.

Blitz - “You’re right Angel...I been so busy on taking care of Sophie and even you guys when you get sick or hurt, I forgot to even take care of myself. It just feels like it’s been so long...I didn’t want to be burden to anybody. I just wanted to protect you.”

Angel - “And that’s what I love about you. But if you don’t be honest about your feelings out, you could end up in your final demon again but much worst.”

“Blitzy?”

Both Blitz and Angel turned around and saw Sophie in the doorway. She was in her pajamas and holding her stuff animals Fluffy. She said:

Sophie - “Are you feeling better?”

Blitz - *smiles* “Yes Sophie I am. *kneeled down to her height* Listen Sophie, I’m really sorry for what I said to you earlier. I was just really angry and sad on how Ryan took away Mom and Dad.”

Sophie - *smile and sad* “It’s okay, I miss them too.”

Blitz - “But honestly...I have high hopes for them coming back soon.”

Sophie - *eyes sparkled* “You do?”

Blitz - “Yeah. I mean who knows...Maybe Ryan didn’t really kill them, or they escape but hiding somewhere. Maybe they will come back, but just not right now. But I can promise you one thing: I will never keep my feelings bottle up like that ever again.”

Sophie - *raise up her pinky* “Pinky promise?”

Blitz - *smiles* “Pinky promise.”

Blitz and Sophie did a pinky promise and they tightly hug each other.

Angel - “Aw so cute! Well we better get some shut eye. Come on Sophie.”

Sophie - “Okay Angel! Good night Big Brother!”

Blitz - *smiled* “Good night Sophie.”

Angel - “Good night Blitzy Que! *chuckles but was smack on the side of the head* “Ow!”

Blitz - *annoyed* “Don’t push your luck.”

Both Angel and Sophie left Blitz’s room. Blitz went to his bed and took something from his nightstand drawer. It was a family portrait of him, his parents and Sophie. And he was also holding his mother’s necklace. He smiled and tear slid down his eye, even though he believes they are truly gone, another side had hope that they will return someday to him and Sophie.

Blitz - “Good night Mom and Dad. I miss you.”

He put them down on his nightshade and fell asleep. Feeling more at peace with himself knowing that despite losing his parents, he always has his sister and friends to love and care about him. While he was sleeping, his mother’s necklace began to glow.

“You think he will figure out where we are Josephine?”

“Only time will tell Arthur.”

“You know I’ll always be proud of him.”

“So will I.”

Hope you all like it!

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #my first one in a long time #blitz and sophie arent my oc

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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 years

Text

The DA Y/N OC Hunger Games Part 7

Part 1 | Part 6 || Part 8 | Part 10 | Part 11

It is time. Is it time? Time for what? What is time? Showtime!? Time for round 7 baybee! Who's gonna die on today's docket!? I DUNNO! But let's find out!

Veridia ( @ask-the-femaleda ) looks for her next victim...

Hey! Veridia! Can you like... Chill? Your mun wants you to do something interesting! And like... Continually watching you rampage is kinda getting samey, old, and boring at this point! Think you can do a more interesting!? No? Why not!? Come on! It can be fun to not be a rampaging monster all the time! Who knows what you might do!? I don't know guys. Looks like she's not gonna stop rampaging any time soon. I sure as hell can't stop her.

Damien's corpse decays peacefully.

... Ah. Right. That's why she's probably not going to chill until further notice... Uh... Thanks for the reminder, Damien's dead and decaying corpse...? May you... Continue to rot peacefully... MOVING ON!

The dead husk of Athena (Pre-WKM) ( @withjust-a-bite ) writhes with maggots.

At least these two are decaying together...? How nice. And quaint. Also, WOW Athena! Sure took you a while to start decaying here! 6 full rounds of being dead! New record!

Daffodil ( @shattered-da ) twiddles their thumbs. Seth ( @who-killed-the-da ) wants this to be over already.

So these two cuties are hanging out together now apparently. SO THAT’S NEW! I think... Otherwise it seems to be the same old same old for them! Well... Actually... Maybe Seth's 'same old same old' involves a lot more murder, all things considered. >.> So I guess not murdering anyone is a nice change of pace for them...? Yeah! Vibing and no murder is just the Daffodil way!

In a fit of frenzy, Gray ( @without-celine ) creeps up on Lillian ( @indic0lite ) and turns them inside out!

Oooooh! Eeeeeee! Ahhhhhh! Ouch! So Gray continues his massacre on the crazy train! Kinda impressive how many people they've managed to kill while frenzied like this... They've actually killed 3 people in as many rounds...? Pretty impressive tbh! Meanwhile Veredia just can't seem to find a single person to slaughter! Not a one! But in any case, oooh... Poor Lillian... You didn't deserve to go out in such a bloody, gory fashion. And I would think that Gray would have been all onboard with how you were annoying the Actor during the last round! Apparently not...? Maybe he wanted to do that for himself. Welp. Hopefully Dylan can fare better! Speaking of...

Dylan ( @the-mirror-realm ) swooshes the air with their sword.

Dylan's just over here, seemingly completely unaware that Lillian has died. But the pressure's on! You've gotta carry on in their stead! You and your overpowered stash of items in your inventory! Good luck!

Celine finds a shotgun! She starts thinking about the damage she can do.

OH COME ON! Who gave this woman a shotgun (again)!?! Well, Celine's about 20 times more dangerous than usual now. Welp... At least we all know that she can put that shotgun to good use...

Y/N ( @dormats-town ) tries to kill Dylan ( @the-mirror-realm ), but Dylan retaliates and kills them instead.

Oh boy! So Roses tried to do something interesting. They really did! Just like their mun wanted! But Dylan and their OP hoard of items was more than enough to fend Y/N off, and in the end, they were killed for it. I suppose that's what you get when you demand things like this from your children, Town! Maybe you actually do get what you want... But only by dying! Roses tried real hard to do a pitchfork stabbing. But in the end, what's a pitchfork to a suit of armor and a sword? ... You know... In retrospect, Roses, you really could have chosen a better target. Maybe you really did have this one coming...

(Actor) Mark is only looking out for himself. William just wants it to end already...

Why do these two keep ending up hanging out together so often...? Like, you're pseudo-siblings, I know, but aren't you two supposed to hate each other!? Wait... Wait wait wait... What if... Does this mean...? It's possible... But no. It can't... Are these two actually trying to reconcile their differences and survive together in spite of everything in their past!? Are these two actually letting bygones be bygones!? I never would have thought that I would see the day! ... Mark's gonna stab Will in the back, isn't he?

So here we are again. Once again at the end of another round! It's always such a pleasure. Two more have met with an unfortunate fate and have gone to the great beyond! Meanwhile the others continue to wait to meet their own fates. And no one except for the gods know what is going to befall them. Who's going to die next? Is everyone's fate already sealed? I suppose we're just going to have to wait and find out. Together. Next time! On the DA Y/N OC Hunger Games!

#DA Y/N battle royale #hunger games simulator

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regrettablewritings · 4 years

Note

If it’s okay. Can I please request some LOVE headcanons with Jaskier, if it hasn’t already been requested?

Dang . . . We almost got an entire set here with Jaskier 👀

Who said “I love you” first?: You know it was Jaskier. Not only because you’d spent the entire time leading up to that point desperately trying to stifle your newly-found affections, but also because everybody knows that the loudest mouth on the continent has to have the first word. However, given that it’s Jaskier, you don’t buy it at first. For one, the man throws the word “love” around as, well, a bard throws around cheesy prose. Who’s to say that his dramatic gesture of spreading his arms wide and crying out gloriously, “Dear (Y/N)! I have determined that you! Are! The! One!!” wasn’t just another show for him? For another, as much as a part of you wanted to believe otherwise, a much larger part just couldn’t believe the possibility that someone like Jaskier could like someone like you romantically -- in whatever way “someone like Jaskier” could be taken. You initial reluctance to accept the bard’s confession left him a husk of a man, pouting and frustrated as he ranted to Geralt in the secrecy of a rented room at a tavern. All the while, the latter could only bluntly state that it’s Jaskier’s fault for having taken everything without much seriousness to it. His actions got him into this mess, he surely couldn’t expect for them to get him out of it. So he had to go the other way about it. You were very concerned when Jaskier got quiet. He’d already been acting strange for the last while or so, fumbling over his words and even struggling to babble on whimsically to jostle up songs. You had half a mind to assume that the poor fool might’ve been falling sick! But when he insisted he wasn’t, and that you still accompany him to the small plot of gardening land beside the tavern, your curiosity led you to oblige. You simply had to see where this was going. Hopefully to an explanation as to why he’d been acting so funny lately. In hindsight, the silly boy had probably scoped the area to find the most romantic spot. Admittedly, there’s not so many romantic associations one might have with raspberries, but there was a rock large enough to sit upon nearby where they were growing, which Jaskier apparently decided would have to do. It wasn’t a bench or a charmingly rustic fountain, but he still took it upon himself to treat it as though it were just as special. You wordlessly (if confusedly) followed suit, perching yourself on it per his request. Though, the temptation to leap right off of it struck the moment he took your hand into his own and locked eyes with you. You’d never heard Jaskier speak so calmly, so seriously, yet without a hint of graveness in it. You waited for him to reveal that it had been a joke, that he was using the moment to harvest some sort of song fodder from your response. But it never came. He just kept kneeling before you, awaiting your response, the hope in his eyes dwindling bit by bit in the moonlight the longer you went without saying anything. “Oh,” he finally spoke. Your heart could’ve shattered with the hint of trembling in that single syllable. “I, um . . . I suppose it is a bit -- it was a poor choice to -- I shouldn’t have -- ” No sentence sounded right to him in his moment of embarrassment. He tried getting back up, unlocking your hand from his, but your reinforced grip gave him pause. You shook your head, your heart beating so hard and fast that it hurt. And yet, the pain of it dulled when in comparison to the relief and bliss you felt.

What are their primary love languages?: Being the attention whore that he is, it would only be suitable that Jaskier reaps love and affection through words of affirmation and quality time. Yeah, he’s also a very sexual being, but he’s an entertainer down to the bone: It’s simply in his nature to desire your attention. When you spent quality time with him and give him praises meant only for him, you simply must be paying attention to him! And even beyond that, it provides the both of you means to communicate and get to know one another. (Well, more than you would already have to, given that you’re on the road all the time.) But for as arrogant as Jaskier is, that bardic nature goes both ways: It’s also in his nature to appraise everything to the highest and most flowery degree, as well as to throw that attentiveness to physical appeal right back at you. He loves being able to be physically close to you in any way that he can, especially sexually. And if he can make sweet and attentive love to you while also (literally) singing your praises? Worshiping your looks and your responses to his ministrations? It’s like he’s died and gone to heaven, a la le petit mort!

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?: Frequently, when the opportunity provides it. Of course, cuddling is difficult to do when one is on the road. And even though the ground isn’t necessarily the most ideal bed for it, being spooned can certainly help alleviate the dread of having to sleep on a floor that could become muddy soon enough. But that doesn’t stop the two of you from engaging in physical forms of affection whenever you can. You’ve never really been one especially for public displays of affection, but something about holding Jaskier’s hand as the two of you trail behind Geralt and Ciri just feels right. His hold is soft and warm, with only trace amounts of callousness due to his constant strumming on the lute. And when the group takes a break, you could think of nothing more refreshing than being able to sit at the base of a large tree and tuck yourself into the crook of your significant other’s arm as the both of you rest in silence, just enjoying the ambience. Sometimes, if you’re in an especially bubbly or affectionate mood, kisses wind up exchanged with no care on if Geralt or the child see you. There’s nothing shameless about giving your beloved a kiss on the cheek or even a quick peck on the lips, is there? Besides, the real shame should fall on Jaskier for always taking it too far by trying to kiss a line up your neck. It just gets taken up to an 11 when you actually have a proper bed to sleep on: The spooning increases, the not so sneaky caresses along the sides make an appearance, and the not-even-trying-to-hide-it attempts at lovingly groping your lovely bits are made because at least now there’s some privacy. And if you’re in the right mood and not too tired from your travels, you don’t mind indulging.

What are their favorite things to do together?: It depends on where the two of you are, but the one consistency is chatting and flinging jokes at one another. Jaskier fancies himself a man of wit so when you prove not to be afraid of playing along or hucking jokes right back at him, he takes it as a game. One of the competing sort. No matter how you may try, that game is going to turn into the two of you trying to make the other laugh or blush with some crude or colorful remarks. (And you can pretend you’re above it all you want, you’re clearly enjoying it.) He also likes how much inspiration your talks can give him, from you recounting the places you’ve seen to the people you’ve encountered (though you insist it’s nowhere near as impressive as he tries to make them sound in song form).

Who’s better at comforting the other?: As observant and intuitive as Jaskier can surprisingly be, this doesn’t always mean that he’s the best at using what he’s learned to calm the situation. If anything, his skittish and overly talkative nature can only drive you further into frustration if he’s not too careful. You know he means well, but Jackie can still be a bit overwhelming if one is already not in the best mood. But when it comes to calming him, you’re one of the best there is. At the very least, you’re able to distract him enough or praise him enough to where he’ll become a little less catty. He may be pouting as he rests his head against your breast, but he’s (not so) secretly eating up the proximity, how your fingers gently card through his hair, how warm your chest feels as it vibrates with your words . . . Words that are, of course, telling him what a talented minstrel he really is, especially compared to that hack of a troubadour, Valdo Marx. The moment you feel him smirking is the moment you know he’s let go of all pretenses of being upset — he’d felt good as new long ago. Still, you let him stay there.

Who’s more protective?: I suppose Jaskier, though the more fitting term would be “possessive.” Jaskier isn’t a very competent fighter (read: He cannot fight at all) so when it comes to physical well-being, he isn’t much good for keeping you any more guarded than however fast you both can run away from the problem. He’s more of a guardian when it comes to the heart or a person’s mental well-being. As embarrassingly idiotic as he can sometimes be, he isn’t so completely unaware as to not notice toxicity in other people. Unfortunately, he’s ironically not very good at vocally communicating this. As a result, he can come across as clingy or annoying. Which he is. But also, he doesn’t want you hurt and has your best interests in mind. Meanwhile, you care plenty for his physical well-being but also know you’re not much of a fighter, either. Besides, Jaskier’s gotten by on the road by himself far longer than you’ve known him -- apparently, he knows how to at least keep his head still attached to his body.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?: Both. As a stereotypical bawdy bard, he loves giving it, and as a humanoid peacock of a man, he loves receiving it. Let him lay his head in your lap while you stroke his hair and tell him what a wonderful performer he is, and how his voice makes you weak and yet empowered with desire --

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?: It may seem a bit rough to apply a song to such a musical man, but quite a few do come to mind: “Sweet Talk” by Saint Motel, “Put Your Money on Me” by The Struts, “Fall in Love” by Bad Rabbits, “Hands” by Barns Courtney . . . Now, if you take the time to listen to these or even look up some of the lyrics, you’ll notice a trend: A man pining for a woman who’s always just ever so slightly out of his reach. Or a man singing his delight for a woman who seems altogether unimpressed or at least hesitant to take a chance on him. Or the girl is just elusive. Which makes perfect sense, given that you’re one to guard her heart when in the face of the minstrel while Jaskier is the one putting his own entirely out there for you. But don’t be dismayed: Jaskier loves a good chase. His type is best defined as “someone he shouldn’t have or must at least bust his ass to acquire”, as one can assume from his interactions with concubines, higher-standing nobility, mothers, warriors, Geralt . . . But if you have a taste for something more optimistic or lighthearted, fear not: There’s always “Easy Way” by For the Foxes or “Undone” by The Bird and the Bee. What makes a song like “Undone” unique, however, is that it’s more for your point-of-view. Your feelings for Jaskier are complex yet so simple. He knows you’re not exactly the best at emoting, much less when it comes to your affections. But sometimes, you think that’s a good thing: If you were even half so brave or careless, the poor man might’ve died from your more frequent desire to kiss him to death (not that he would mind dying in such a pretty way). You can put on a calm expression all you want: Inside, you’re a storm of thoughts. You want to impress him, you want him to think you’re witty and bewitching, you want to be his yet one definite thing, you want to be the one who, well, can make him come undone with just a kiss. And it just takes you aback sometimes to realize that the very man, known for his philandering, already sees no wrong in you, and that he wants nothing more than the very same. With you and only you.

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?: It startled you to learn one day that you’d been calling him a nickname the entire time. In hindsight, yeah, it made sense: “Jaskier” was unusual as a given name. But you had grown so used to it and how it fit him like it was bespoke, that learning his real name was Julian just . . . It felt weird. Still, that didn’t erase the fact that, yes, Jaskier was technically still a nickname for him that you’d been using, knowingly or not. Though, every once in a while you would make an attempt to refer to him as something else: “Baby Eyes”, you realized, had some unusual sticking power to it.It’s normally used in an almost pouty tone, usually to accompany the pouting Jaskier’s already doing when you say it. Not in a taunting manner, but as if to extend sympathy. You hadn’t even meant for the name to keep reappearing but it just rolls off the tongue, especially whenever Jaskier looks at you with those blue eyes, fixed in a puppyish pout. He also seems to respond well to names that suggest his talent or genius, but we would be here all night running through the specifics due to how ridiculously and pointlessly long they are. The length of Jaskier’s names had actually become a bit of a problem even when in reference to you: It’s not really a nickname when your lover wants to refer to you as “Stunning Little Starling of the Northern Sky” or “Darling Daffodil of the Valley” and so on. He’s had to shorten quite a few down to “Starling” or “Darling” or “Daffodil” or “My Muse” or “Exquisite One, Conqueror of My Heart, Goddess of My Sleeping Hours, Patron Saint to My Loins --”.

Thank you for your patience!

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagines #jaskier imagine #the witcher imagine #the witcher imagines #regrettablewritings #character ship meme #character ship headcanons

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