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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Make You Wish Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,324

Previous Part: Chapter Four -- Vox

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I've just had a lot of people asking for part five of this series.

The shadows released Alastor and Y/n in his old studio. They melted into the ground around them as Y/n smiled brightly, her eyes traversing the familiar space.

"Happy to be back?" Alastor asked, watching her excitment fondly and Y/n nodded.

"I most certainly am. This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"More fun than murder?"

"Fucking with Vox like that? Definitely more fun than murder. That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."

"That's why you're lucky to have me around."

"Hey, you're the one who left, not me. You don't need to convince me I like spending time with you. Rather, you are in a need to be proving your care for me I should think."

"Am I, my dear?" Alastor crooned, leaning in slightly with his hands behind his back.

"Yes, you are."

He laughed.

"Well, I will have to get on that."

As Alastor approached the desk, his horns sprouting in shadows from his head, she made her way over to the corner of the space covered in of pillows and blankets. Hitting the pillows, they released a cloud of dust. Y/n shrugged slightly, waving the dust away from her nose before sitting down.

Alastor held his microphone to his mouth, recommencing his recording.

"Lets begin." Alastor announced as he sat down in his chair and began fiddling with the knobs on the table, "I'm gonna make you wish that I'd stayed gone, tune on in."

Y/n spotted her old crocheting project she'd started seven years before and smiled. Taking it in her hands, she began to continue her previous work.

"When I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run." Alastor continued, his demon form becoming even wilder and sharp at its edges.

"This will be fun." Y/n mused, watching him carefully.

Alastor turned to her, his smile sickeningly wide.

"Yes, it will be."

It was just like the old days. Alastor broadcasted his show while Y/n watched, working on whatever craft project was nearest to keep her hands busy. There was a deep seated comfort rising in her soul, a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years.

Every once in a while over the course of his show, Alastor would turn his head back towards her. Y/n wasn't sure if he was checking in or making sure she hadn't left. Either way, she didn't care. After about three hours, Alastor at last signed off.

As soon as he hit the button that stopped his broadcast, Y/n placed her crocheting to the side. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him and took a seat on the desk, smiling brightly.

"What did you think, my dear?" Alastor asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at her.

"Amazing as always, Al. I swear, your voice was made for the air waves."

Alastor laughed lightly at this comment.

"I missed it. I missed you."

"I found myself missing you too, my dear. I had become so used to your constant presence, it was an odd thing to suddenly be alone."

"You like me!" Y/n teased in a singsong voice and Alastor smiled back at her, "Admit it!"

"Perchance. So, seven years." Alastor sighed.

"Seven years." Y/n confirmed.

"You work for an imp now? Seems an odd turn of events."

Y/n shrugged, turning her head to look out the window at the street far below.

"Blitzo is a friend. He helped me out a lot when you first left."

"So you joined his little team? How sinful, breaking the law and going to the living world to reap souls for paying customers."

Y/n turned back to him.

"I didn't realize you knew that much about what we did."

"I have my sources."

"Husk? Are your sources Husk? He's the only one that knows what it is I do now from the old crowd."

Alastor didn't reply.

"It's for sure Husk. How is he doing?"

"Y/n." Alastor warned, "Answer the question."

She sighed, kicking her legs slightly.

"I mean, nothing we do is technically legal." she admitted, "None of them have human disguises and our way to the human world is a book Blitzo stole from a fucking Goetia."

"You don't say." Alastor mused, "That would happen to have anything to do with this contract you're under."

Y/n's eyes locked with Alastor in silence. They glared sharply at one another in a battle of will. At last, Y/n relented.

"Yeah. It does."

"So, what is it? Why does a member of the Goetia family own your soul. Why is it that you have fallen so far."

"You really aren't gonna let this one go."

Alastor shook his head.

"Blitzo... well he was friends with the guy. Stolas, one of the Goetia princes in charge of the heavens or some shit. It's... Basically, I made a deal that if Stolas stays away from Blitzo and let us use the book, I would give him my soul."

"How altruistic. Though not unexpected from you, I suppose."

"It was only a few months after you left, Al. I couldn't take him on. Hell, you can't even take him on. He's a fucking Goetia. I did... I couldn't think of anything else. I did what I had to do to keep my friend safe."

"And why did he deserve your protection? He dug his grave and instead of lying in it, put you in."

"It's not his fault. Stolas got all weird with stuff and Blitzo was uncomfortable. There's this big threat of him tattling on us he hangs over our heads at all times. I... Blitzo did so much for me, Al. He helped me pick up the pieces of my life when it was clear you weren't coming back. I've become better now, stronger but back then, it was all I could do for him."

Alastor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/n's phone buzzing.

"Sorry, gimme a second."

Alastor eyed the device in irritation as she pulled it from her pocket. Whatever was on the screen dampened her mood even further than their conversation had. She jumped down off the table, hurriedly typing something out on her phone.

"Shit, Al. I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Work?"

"Sorta."

"Ah. Your deal. Why does he not just pull you to him like a normal demon would."

"Well," Y/n began, sliding her phone back into the pocket of her dress, "first off, he's a hellborn not a demon. And second off he has this weird thing about being wanted? Well, not weird. Everyone wants to be wanted just like, he doesn't want to force me to come. At the same time, he knows if he asks for me, I have to. It's... he's complicated, Alastor. It's complicated."

"I could kill him for you. Make it a whole lot less complicated."

Y/n laughed.

"Thanks hun but I don't think even you could manage that one."

"You could make a deal with me, that would most likley cancel it out."

"And have you own my soul? No, I've seen how that pans out for people. I think I'll pass."

"Just a suggestion, my dear."

"Is it? You've been trying to make a deal with me since I first met you, Al. I feel like you shoulda caught the hint by now."

"It was worth a try." he shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why is it you want my soul so badly anyways?"

"No reason. No reason at all."

"Yeah. I totally believe that."

Y/n's phone dinged again and she pulled it once more from her pocket. At the sight of the words on the screen she sighed, her brow furrowing in irritation.

"Pushy pushy." she hummed, "Look, I gotta go. I'll be back later."

And with those parting words, Y/n disappeared through the studio's door.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Six -- Stolas

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redr0sewrites · 28 days

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So bc u requested Adam and/or Lute stuff I'd like to request Adam x male!reader? Like literally anything that comes to your mind, idc if it's sfw or nsfw I just crave it °^° (also if you're not comfy with writing male reader that's totally cool too, in that case just ignore this)

I HAVW NO QUALMS AB WRITING MALE READER NONNIE DW!!!! ♥️

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, male!reader, overall adam's usual shenanigans

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

you can NOT look me in the eyes and tell me adam does not have some form of internalized homophobia, and the minute he starts catching feelings for you i genuinely think he'd have a mini crisis

because of his major fuckboy personality he has a LOT of experience with flirting with women, but literally no experience with flirting with men

adam is still pretty confident however, and would probably approach you first.

i think he'd have to be friends with you to catch feelings for you in the first place, so he's probably around you pretty often

adam is very subconsciously flirty with you, but in a much more genuine way without his usual bravado. he doesn't even realize how soft he acts around you, but others can tell by the way his eyes always follow you and how he seems to orbit around you, or the way he'll purposefully stand as close as possible when he's talking to you. theres also the fact that he's literally always touching you, whether it be an arm around your shoulders or a hand resting on your back, he just needs to be close to you. you attract him like a moth to a flame, even when he's in a crowded room all adam is focused on is getting your attention. even his casual hookups stop as he literally focuses all his time on winning you over, even he doesn't realize how much he likes you (everyone else can tell. theres a betting pool in heaven on when you both will get together and who will confess first, etc)

adam definitely acts like a BUFFOON around you, deep down he doesn't think someone like you would want to be with him and overcompensates by bragging constantly about all the woman he's liked in a slightly pathetic attempt to flirt with you and literally CONSTANTLY trying to get your attention. think of his usual flaunting attitude and then turn up the dial by 100%. he wants to be on your mind 24/7 the same way your on his mind all the time

meanwhile ur lowkey heartbroken, bc you think adam is straight and yet you can't get rid of your stupid ass crush on his stupid face!!!! it's honestly especially irritating because he'll flirt with you and call you so many petnames and nicknames and will always be touching you, so you think you have a chance, then all of a sudden he's talking about some girl he banged and you just feel a bit led on

its very amusing for lute to watch the both of you dance around eachother and your feelings, when you both so clearly like eachother but are too scared to do anything about it

honestly i think you'd both end up confessing to eachother in the middle of an argument, maybe your pissed at adam for bragging about the "super hot girl he banged last night" (she isn't real and he spent the entire night thinking about you) and he's pissed off that your getting mad at him instead of being impressed or falling in love with him

definitely one of those dramatic "because i LOVE you, okay?!" confessions i am cringe but i am free and adam just kinda stares at you for a hot minute

adam would literally be like "wait... YOU like ME???? i thought you HATED me????? IM the one who likes YOU!" in usual adam fashion, and you would literally be like -_-"YOU LIKED ME THIS WHOLE TIME??? WHY DIDNT U SAY ANYTHING????" his dumbass would literally be like "I WAS TRYING TO??????" and all of this useless dialogue would literally just end in the two of you admitting your true feelings (much to lute's amusement who was recording the entire thing bc she NEEDS to win that bet)

once you both are officially together? prepare for adam to be the clingiest mf alive (in a cute way tho). he waited so long to be with you and literally became solely devoted to you for a WHILE before winning you over and it's probably been a hot minute since he's genuinely dated someone. sure, he's had hookups, but real, soulful relationships aren't common with him.

adam is ridiculously loyal to you, definitely one of those people who will be like "i have a bf 🙄" when someone random texts them, even if that person wasn't even interested in them romantically

LOVESSS flaunting you!! adam will bring you to every event he attends, he loves bragging about you and showing you off to all of heaven

if anyone ever gave you any shit about your relationship adam would literally drop kick them, he's very defensive about your guys' relationship and wants everyone to know that he loves you.

adam doesn't know shit about labels or sexuality so you probably have to teach him some things, i honestly think he'd be pansexual or just queer/unlabeled (i am totallyyy nooot projecting)

nsfw:

adam has been alive a long time and thought he tried everything sex related under the sun, but being with a guy opened a whole new world of possibilities

adam had explored with anal a bit before, but never with a partner. only in the late hours of the night when jerking off just wasn't enough, and he found himself with a strange temptation, his hands creeping lower and lower until he finally began to thrust his fingers in and out of his aching hole, tears welling in his eyes from a mix of humiliation and pure pleasure. yet, when he admitted to having tried fingering himself before, he also admitted something else- he had never managed to make himself cum, and had always gotten too embarrassed to push himself over the edge

he is a switch FIGHT ME. the first time your both intimate, adam absolutely talks so much shit about topping yet starts whining the second he begins fucking your tight cavern. this leads to you taking control and fucking him senseless, and adam is shocked at how much he enjoys it

he takes dick like a champ, he's a bratty sub at first but once you praise or degrade him, he's melting like putty in your hands

adam is sooo loud, he's a shameless moaner and everyone within a mile radius can hear his screams

you have to teach him how to give head, and he is surprisingly a very fast learner. adam lowkey gets off on how humbling it is to be below you, and he's also the type to get off on his partner's pleasure.

adam definitely has some sort of breeding kink, and when he's fucked dumb and so, so needy, he'll beg you to cum inside, whining about fucking a baby into him and babbling pure nonsense

even though it is quite literally impossible for either of you to get pregnant, he loves that kind of dirty talk. adam will pretend to be embarrassed about it but the thought of you breeding him or him breeding you is genuinely such a turn on for him

yall literally never use a condom im sorry 💀

adam would enjoy topping as well, i def think he enjoys fucking you and he loves fucking you senseless with pleasure

the first time he tops adam goes slow, he wants to learn more than anything and becomes incredibly skilled at reaching that sweet spot inside of you

adam is the first man, the original dick, and he definitely knows how to use it. he's such a fast learner when it comes to sex-related things, and memorizes everything about you and your body. he wants to know what makes you tick, and everything that pleases you or turns you on

adam is a pretty big guy and he can easily maneuver you into any position you want, he really likes hitting it from the back and loves fucking you from behind. he'd definitely pull your hair, forcing your head back so he could whisper absolute filth in your ear

i really really enjoyed writing this urgrhrgregregeh i love me some adam- im an afab person but im genderqueer/unlabeled and sometimes feel more masculine or more feminine, snd this was very fun to write bc i usually don't get requests for male reader or more masculine reader so yea i really really enjoyed this!!! also happy easter to anyone else who celebrates lmao i can't believe yall r getting smut from me on easter 💀

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keegansgf · 1 year

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“keegan p. russ headcanons”

pairing : Keegan P. Russ x fem! reader

tags : domestic fluff, headcanons

A/N : Simon Ghost Riley attention is great and all but look at Keegan <33. He needs more recognition on Tumblr and I fold for domestic bliss I also did NOT proofread 😭

I'd imagine him as the type of guy to adopt a big dog and a cat for both of you. Why a big dog? If he's not there, your buddy is protecting you. Keegan is always thinking two steps ahead– especially if it regards your safety. The cat, on the other hand, is just there to be cute with you and your other pet. His heart goes soft seeing you play with them.

He's more of a listener than a talker. You could be complaining about your day and he'll sit and listen giving the occasional input here and there. It's not like he's always quiet though. Whenever his teammates are over, they get surprised at how talkative he is to you.

Keegan isn't easy to read to everyone else, you both know when you need space. You're his soulmate, if something is up with him or vise versa, you both feel it.

He's definitely touchy. Every chance he has to hold you by his side is every chance he'll take. You'll feel his arm snake around your hips or waist when it gets too crowded or if you need to squeeze in-between other shoppers. This goes the same for when you're doing anything (sitting down, reading, etc.) If you're at a desk of some sort, he'll bend to your height to hug you from behind, and place a sweet kiss on your cheeks or temples. When you were a new couple, he wasn't that open to cuddling. He finds it much harder to sleep without you now.

I feel like he collects records in his free time. If you two ever really settle down and have a child, he's the dad who shares his own music taste. He'd be so proud hearing "I got my music taste from my dad!" (If you ever get to that point of fully settling down. I'd say he's a daughter type of guy though.)

Everything you, do he'll try to help you in whatever way, especially cooking. There's nothing he wouldn't do for you as a whole. He hides the fact he's a sucker for being your knight and you're his queen.

Speaking of being his queen and helping you out, I see him doing all the outdoorsy chores just so you don't have to do them. Catch him shoveling snow or raking leaves for you.

When you're shopping for things like clothes, makeup, etc, whatever you touch or show interest in is immediately remembered. In a matter of days, you'll see that perfume you were obsessed with in a brand-new box right at your dresser.

He likes the little things about you or the quiet moments in your shared lives. Noticing the smell of your perfume when you walk past him, seeing you're trying out a new nail color that he likes, having a different dish on the table to share– just everything. Waking up to a new day is something he's already grateful for, for very obvious reasons, but waking up next to the love of his life? Things couldn't be more perfect for him.

#keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan x reader #keegan p. russ #keegan p. russ x reader #cod ghosts #cod ghosts x reader #call of duty #domestic fluff #domestic bliss #keegan needs more appreciation #keegansgf

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javiddenkins · 10 months

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Javid Denkins is not interested in answering questions.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across from Denkins in a conference room at the AMC Studios offices. Denkins declined to meet anywhere more personal than this beige and glass room, impersonal Muzak buzzing through the speakers, windows overlooking an empty studio lot. There are posters on the wall but none, strangely, for Blow the Man Down, the runaway hit Denkins conceived, writes, and now showruns.

Blow the Man Down, or BTMD as it's frequently referred to by fans and journalists alike, is a workplace comedy set in the Golden Age of Piracy. This unusual premise would be interesting enough even without the top-tier leads brought on by AMC to play opposing pirate captains Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur—Oscar Issac and John Boyega light up the screen and bring surprising comedy chops to the pirate-filled stage they share with such talents as Michelle Yeoh ("Zheng Yi Sao") and Sam Neill ("Captain Benjamin Hornigold").

But beyond that, BTMD seems to be that rare thing in mainstream media: a slow romance between two middle-aged men finding love for the first time. The first—and so far, only—season ends on a cliffhanger, our heroes separated by an ocean but determined to reach one another, and their love story—if it is one—stays unresolved.

Usually an interview like this—between seasons, after renewal and filming but before advertising—would be the perfect opportunity to delve into the mind behind the magic and attempt to tease out hints about what's to come.

But Denkins seems determined to ignore Hollywood's traditional playbook.

Whether this is the standard conference room used for interviewing reluctant showrunners, or if Denkins picked it especially for the purpose, I'll never find out. I've already been waiting half an hour, uncertain if Denkins intends to join me at all. When he does finally arrive, he makes his position clear.

"I'm only doing this because you agreed to my terms," he says.

I'd describe what he looked like, if he had a coffee or a snack or a smoker's twitching nerves, if he sounded tired or amused or angry—but I can't. If you see a description here, it's because Denkins decided, for whatever reason, to approve it. Otherwise, sharing my impression of Denkins is off the table, one of many terms and conditions my editorial team and I had to agree to before Denkins would accept this meeting.

Denkins doesn't want to make my job easy. Photos of him do exist from the few red carpets he's attended; enthusiastic interviews with the cast, writers, and production team of BTMD definitely paint a picture that belies Denkins's apparent efforts to avoid perception. But here and now, in the oppressive air conditioning of the AMC offices, I am contractually obligated to interview a cipher.

If he can be all business, though, then so can I. I hit a button on my phone's recording app, set it down between us, and ask what made him decide to tell the story of an obscure pair of pirates like Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur.

He shrugs. "Why does anyone write anything? This is my job."

It's not the kind of answer I was expecting. Something must show on my face, because he follows with, "That's unsatisfying, isn't it. No definitive answer."

"It's not what I expected," I hedge.

"What did you want to hear?"

I try to gather my thoughts, but I'm definitely stalling, uncertain that this is what Denkins intends. "I did a little research," I say. "Not as much as I imagine you did, but I found some of Bellamy and Levasseur's history together and, later, apart. Bellamy's ship is the only fully authenticated Golden Age shipwreck in the world, so it makes sense that the wrecking of the Whydah is an important turning point in season one. Levasseur, on the other hand, is best known for the mystery of his encoded treasure map, flung into the crowd at his hanging and only ever partially solved, which you seem to have used as a foundation for the coding and decoding motifs throughout. But for a show that seems determined to discuss the consequences of fame and reputation, it's fascinating that you've chosen two men most casual viewers have never heard of."

"Outside the narrative they built for themselves," Denkins corrects. "Is there a question in there?"

I remember again that Denkins isn't here to make this easy for me. "Why not choose one of the more well-known pirates of the era? Henry Morgan, Captain Kidd, and Blackbeard are all arguably more famous both now and when they were alive. What made you choose Bellamy and Levasseur for this story?"

"I think," Denkins says, "I just answered that. There's a difference between how you perceive yourself, and how the world perceives you. Those famous pirates retained their notoriety even after death. Sam and Ollie did have reputations when they were alive, but if people today know them at all, it's typically for reasons completely unrelated to whatever little fame they achieved in life."

"And that fascinates you?"

Denkins looks irritated. "It doesn't matter what fascinates me. That's the story, that's—look, I don't know how to write a puff piece like this," Denkins says. "I don't know if it would really sound like this, if anyone would bother caring enough about what I want to get this far."

"Excuse me?" I say.

"Do you honestly think," Denkins says, "there's a single journalist out there that would actually agree to these interview conditions? This is a fantasy, a what-if, and it still doesn't work."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," says Denkins, "I didn't even give you a name."

And that's true, I realize. I don't have a name.

"Right," says Denkins, as if hearing my thoughts—and I suppose, in a way, he does. "And you don't know how you got here, and you don't know where you'll go after. I made you up. I made all this up."

I look at my recorder, which isn't a recorder. I look at the room, which isn't a room.

"Okay," I say. "So what did you want to happen?"

Denkins taps my phone's screen to stop the recording. Denkins imagines me noticing that he taps the screen, and so this must have meaning. There is no room for junk words and actions in prose, and even less in television. Whatever's on the page has to have meaning, or it's wasted space, wasted time, a moment that could have been useful now gone and never coming back.

Denkins shoves my phone back to the center of the table and says, "I wanted to see if I could just talk about the story without making it about me."

"But you're part of it," I point out. "You have to be. It came from you. It was something you thought was important, and then you put the effort in to create it. The story exists because of you, in relation to you. That's why people, why fans, want to know more about you. They love the story, and you made it, so they want to love you, too."

"I don't like that," says Denkins. "Rephrase it."

"They love the story," I say, parroting back at my creator, "and you made it. They want to know about you so they can know more about what the story means."

Denkins's chair creaks as he pushes it back, puts his head in his hands. I wonder if he's doing that in the real world, too, in the place where he's imagining this interview that will never exist.

(Except I'm not the one wondering. He is. He's wondering what an interviewer would think of him if he allowed himself to show this weakness. Rephrase. Show this ache. Rephrase. Show this.)

"I'm not a story," Denkins says, face still hidden. The Muzak piped into the room seems too loud, too discordant now. Maybe that's what the world sounds like to him. "I'm not imaginary. I'm not a specimen to study under a microscope until every part of me is uncovered and connected one by one to every part of the show." He drags his hands back down and I think I can say that he looks very, very tired.

"Yes, maybe I put some of myself in Blow the Man Down," he continues. "Maybe I did in season two as well. Maybe I put something in The Gang, and maybe I'll put something into whatever else I make for the next fifty years. And what I put there is—will be—has to be—my choice. All things I chose to share. But this?" He waves a hand at the nonexistent conference room, at nonexistent me. "This isn't a choice. It's a demand. I'm being held hostage for answers, as if me keeping my boundaries somehow ruins the show, ruins the story."

"Because you're not a story," I repeat back, watching for confirmation. "Because what you choose to reveal is the only story the audience should need."

"Yes," says Denkins. "That's it."

That's not it, though. I know this, because I'm him, talking to himself. Thinking all this through.

"So you cut yourself off," I say. "No one can know anything about you, because they're already clawing for what you're not willing to share—so how much worse would it get if you gave them a chance to come closer, right?"

"To take, and get it wrong anyway," he says. "Or get it right, but not like it. Not like me. How I'm perceived might change how the story is perceived. And even skipping over the whole art of it all—this is a business. How the story is perceived affects dozens, if not hundreds of people and careers. And all of it can get destroyed in an instant if there's some aspect of me that the audience decides is wrong."

Denkins pushes back from the table, stands up as if to leave. I'm not done yet, though. He's not done yet.

"Sounds lonely," I say.

"Sounds like something a fan would say," he shoots back, and I shrug.

"Blame yourself for thinking it and making me say it, then. It sounds lonely. It is lonely. It's lonely to think there's no way that you could open yourself up, talk about who you are and what your art means to you, without feeling like someone, everyone, will take advantage of that vulnerability."

I pause, and in that pause I find something to latch onto. "You've imagined me," I say. "You've imagined this scenario, where you stay cut off and oblique and hidden." I pick up my phone from where it's placed between us, and I shut it down completely—not because it exists, but because it's a symbol he understands. "What would happen if you imagined being part of the story?" I ask. Rephrase. "What would happen if you imagined being free?"

We look at each other. The tinny music of this artificial space comes to a sudden halt.

Denkins leaves the room.

I am—

Denkins comes back. He sits down. He looks at me.

Time doesn't exist in the beige and glass room. But behind him, now, there is a poster of Sam Bellamy and Olivier Levasseur, a drilled coin on a cord stretched taut between them. And the Muzak hasn't restarted.

Denkins looks different. Or maybe he just feels different. Those things are functionally the same, here.

"You know the old movie trailers?" Denkins starts, not really a question. "The ones that start with 'in a world…'"

I nod.

He smiles a little. "Okay. In a world where Blow the Man Down doesn't exist. Let's say there's something else instead. Let's say it's called Our Flag Means Death. It's a workplace comedy, it's the Golden Age of Piracy, the works. They even manage to kiss in the first season, though the cliffhanger is worse. And in that world, there's a different guy who runs it, a guy named David Jenkins, who seems nicer and more outgoing and shares a lot more of himself than I do. And I think it goes mostly okay for him, except he has to scrub his social media, delete most of his Instagram, and never gets to name his wife anywhere in case a fan might notice and start following her around."

"Sounds grim," I say.

He shrugs. "It's another way of handling it. David, in that world, has made a choice to draw the enemy fire toward himself, instead of hiding away and letting it scatter at random. It seems to work okay for him, and maybe it would for me too, but, you know. Maybe that's a little of myself I gave Ollie. Because I also like the idea of testing something first, all the way to destruction."

A little of myself. This—this is personal information. Something that, in the negotiations that never happened, he said he'd never give me.

My phone, with its blackened screen, is right there. I keep my hands still, folded together, decidedly not reaching for the phone. Denkins watches, sees. His shoulders loosen; neither of us, I think, realized how tense he'd been.

"In that world," he says, "there's a second season coming that no one knows anything about and there's a fandom going feral. Echo chambers that feed off their own theories because there's nothing new to add to the pot. Just like our world, right? In the absence of good data, overwrought ideology works just as well.

"And in the middle of this, to provide a distraction, maybe, or to draw that enemy fire like he so often does, David Jenkins says he'll get a Tumblr—you know, one of those not-really-social-media internet places. And maybe he does. He doesn't tell anyone his username, so it's a mystery whether he really did it or not. But someone opens an account. And someone says they're definitely not David Jenkins."

Javid Denkins is holding a cup of coffee. So am I, now. We take sips, mirrors of each other. The coffee tastes like it has seven sugars in it.

Denkins swirls his cup gently, not looking up at me. "When you're trying to figure out something that's terrifying," he says, slow and careful, "and enraging, and so big and so much that it feels like you'll collapse under the weight of it…sometimes you need to find a way to conceptualize it more abstractly. Make it manageable. Put it in bite-sized chunks.

"So instead of me, dealing with all this fame, and these expectations, and these pulls to turn me from a person into a plot point…maybe there's this other guy. In this other universe, with this other pirate show. Another writer, who says he's definitely not David Jenkins. But—he could be. He could be. And either way, there's enough uncertainty that the fandom can't tell right away."

"Schrödinger's showrunner," I say.

Denkins tips his mug at me. "Yeah, that gets pointed out, too. Because either it's really him and the fandom will eat at him—death by a thousand needy bites of demand, and something that feels like connection but by its nature can't be—or it's not him, just a fan pretending to be him, attention-seeking, scamming, stealing unearned laurels to crown a meaningless triumph: successfully mimicking the concept of David Jenkins."

"Pretty binary."

Denkins shrugs. "You saw the first season. I'm a sucker for duality."

He hums and looks out the conference room's window. The AMC lot is gone. More accurately, it was never there. Outside the window is an ocean. The water is green-screen perfect, and there are two tall-masted ships in the distance: Bellamy's Whydah Gally and Levasseur's La Louise. They float angled toward one another, counterpart to their captains on the poster behind Jenkins, missing only the drilled coin between them.

"Except," says Denkins, slow and musing as he watches the distant ships, "in the vast multiverse of imaginable possible outcomes, it turns out that there is the very slimmest possible chance of a third thing happening."

There is another ship floating now between the Whydah and La Louise. It's freshly painted, poorly rigged, and its figurehead is a unicorn. Instead of one flag, it has half a dozen. And I know, because Denkins knows, that instead of gunpowder in its hold, it carries jars and jars of harmless marmalade.

"So," I say, "David Jenkins—"

"Oh, definitely not David Jenkins," says Javid Denkins, amusement lighting up his face. He keeps his eyes on that third ship.

"So the person who is definitely not David Jenkins," I say. "He comes and starts a social media account. He answers questions."

"Sort of. Nothing specific, really. Just…narrative likelihoods. Enough to dangle hope. But the fandom wants more. There's a Richard Siken line he sees, that if he'd chosen to stay anonymous maybe he could've actually posted: 'but monsters are always hungry, darling.' It's like that. So he backs up a little, and considers how to hold off the inevitable. The season two hints are vague? Make them vaguer. Add some smoke and mirrors to hide how little substance they have. There are only so many general pirate tropes around? Stretch out how long it takes to get the ones he has. Add steps. Add puzzles. Make the fandom work for it, and maybe they won't notice how little there is to find. Give them an interesting enough box to open, and they'll ignore the fact that there isn't an answer on the inside, just another, smaller box." He tilts his head and looks at me. The light outside is now luminous pink and yellow, flashing off the water and highlighting his face like a duotone painting. "Then he…" Denkins sighs. Puts down his mug. "Then I sit back and see what happens. I see if it's as bad as I think it would be if I did it here, in the real world."

"And is it?"

Denkins reaches out with one hand, tugging my phone over to his side of the table. He starts fiddling with the buttons, attention on it instead of me. "To start with? Yes. And no. It didn't matter that the one thing I promised was that I wasn't David Jenkins. They—the fandom—found me anyway. They assumed I was him. And I was right, of course I was right, they asked me questions. Hundreds of them. Like that was the only reason I existed, like I couldn't just be a regular person like the rest of them, just on Tumblr to read about the Carpathia and get taken out by the color of the sky."

"For better or for worse, you're a public person," I say. "They think they know what it means when a public person breaks down the barrier between themselves and the fans. Even well-meaning people make assumptions."

The recorder is no longer a phone and app; it's an old cassette player with thick plastic buttons like I, or more accurately Denkins, had as a child. It matches the ones his elementary school classrooms had, which in turn looked like the device Mr. Spock carried at his hip to record and interpret data from strange new worlds.

Denkins, in the here and now, half-presses the play and record buttons, which would trigger the record function if pushed down completely. He holds back. Riding the edge of commitment. Over and over.

"Yeah," he says. "Yes. That's true. And I could've been completely anonymous if I wanted to be left alone entirely. I suppose I wanted to prove that everything I believe—everything I'm afraid of—is true, and that I'm justified in hiding away, refusing to be 'known' by anyone I haven't specifically agreed to. Hence the thought exercise. And when I was done, and I had my proof," he says, leaving off the recorder buttons to raise a pointed finger at me, "I wouldn't have to see you again either."

We look at each other. "But here you are," I say.

He laughs. It's rusty, but sure. "Here I am," he agrees.

"So what happened?"

"Turns out," he says, "that in that infinite universe of possibilities a writer can dream up, there's a world where, yes, all my worst fears are confirmed…but that's not all that happens."

He stops, and we are both silent for a long, long moment. His fingertips brush over the recorder buttons, repetitive and soothing, like he's calming something feral and unused to human touch.

"Would you believe," he says at last, hushed and small in this glass and beige room floating on a digital sea, "that there is a world where fans—people—don't ask for more than I want to give? Who see the box I'm in, and instead of ripping it open to grasp for whatever good thing they think they can find inside…they give something back.

"I played it all out, you see." He waves his hand over the recorder. Now there are two of them, sitting side by side, each with a row of thick black plastic buttons along the edge: one to play, one to rewind, one to record, and one to pop open its lid so that the cassette can be changed. One of the recorders is a little bigger than the other. "If I can imagine it," he says, "it has to be possible."

He looks at the two recorders; he's quiet now, talking to himself rather than me. I don't think I'm as necessary as I was before. I think maybe this is just him. Just Denkins in this lonely little room. He moves the smaller recorder so that it's lined up with the larger one, like he's lining up Matryoshka dolls as he reveals them.

"It started small," he says. "There were people who saw my puzzles, and made puzzles back for me, just to play along. People who saw my puzzles, and shared what they knew about them, just to help others play too. Small things. Little things. Possible things. I liked it. I didn't expect it. I…wanted to give back, too. Not just in the story, I mean. It was me who wanted it. Wanted to add to a world, to a community, where that sort of giving could happen. So I went further. I didn't just try to hint at common story beats this other show might hit—I started listening, following, asking what would be most welcome, and then gave that instead. And it grew. It grew until it wasn't really just an experiment anymore. It stopped being an adversarial proof. It started being…something else."

Denkins reaches out, and now there are three recorders on the table. The newest one is the smallest. He lines it up with the others.

"I'd already made David Jenkins," he says, "and in turn he'd made his own Javid Denkins. So why not do it again? This other Javid Denkins, this me who's me but not me, goes deeper. He uses the tools at his disposal. Our Flag Means Death has pirates named Edward Teach and Stede Bonnet. OFMD has a fandom like BTMD does, where people write stories about the characters, for themselves and—for others. Fan fiction. A thing that can be a gift, if you want it to be. So I started to write one."

One by one, Denkins hits the 'play' button on each of the recorders. The cassettes whir, a steady background hum. Each starts playing a part of some orchestral piece. Not the individual instruments, but something stranger. It's as if each cassette contains the whole work, but with fragments missing that the others complete. There are still some gaps in the playback.

Denkins waves his hand over the collection again, and a fourth recorder, smallest of all, appears. He presses play on it too, and the music fills in. It's a pretty little melody. Simple, if you know how to hear it.

Denkins hums a little of it before looking up, seeing me again. "That was it, really. That's what finally made all this small enough for me to understand. Made it small enough, far enough away from my actual world that I could finally let myself feel it. In this story that I'm telling, here is Edward Teach." Denkins touches the smallest recorder very, very gently. "Teach lives in a world where he's not the main character; he's just a fan of a gay pirate romcom called Blow the Man Down. He's tired, and he's angry, and he doesn't know how to deal with the world the way it is, with the fandom as he perceives it. He makes a Twitter account, anonymously, to prove that what he fears is real."

Denkins covers the recorder with both hands, only muffling the music a little. "Here's Edward Teach, made up of all my fears and saying them out loud."

He raises his hands, and now there are two little recorders, the same size, both playing the same parts together. He touches the new recorder with his fingertip, as if it's a bubble that could too easily break. "Here's Stede Bonnet," he says, "made up of all my fears coming true. And then having to live through it anyway." He stares down at this new recorder; the same as the Edward Teach one, but evidently special in some way to Denkins. He says, to me, to it, to the room: "It's a hell of a thing, to need to go so far away just to see what you've been carrying on your back the whole time."

After a moment, he looks back up at me. "In my story," he says, "Stede survives the disaster. My disaster. He survives it, because he has Ed—a love interest, yes, but not just that. He's someone he opened up to. And more than that, I saw—because I could imagine it, and so it must be possible, it has to actually be possible—I saw the fandom become…people."

With both hands, Denkins presses a button on each of these two small recorders.

Their lids pop open.

And from the walls, from the ceiling, from the glass windows and the limitless sea, there comes a multiverse of music.

"These people," says Denkins, tilting his head to listen as the swells of unseen instruments add to the gentle overture of his pocket worlds and turn the piece into something greater than the sum of its parts. "They're not some nameless collective made up of their worst impulses. They're just people. People are complicated. You can never know them completely; they can never know you. All you really get is what they—we—choose to do.

"And I saw people try to help Stede. People, strangers, who didn't know who he was, not really. And they felt compassion anyway."

After a long moment, just taking in the music, Denkins sighs and carefully closes the lids on the two small recorders. The singing universe becomes just a recorded orchestral piece once again—though no less beautiful for it. He gently pushes the two recorders together until they're touching, side by side, and covers them with his hand. He says, "Ed got to see this. He got to know that even if his worst fear happens, he'll be okay on the other side of it. And he won't be alone."

He lifts his hand; the two are now one, still playing its little melody.

Denkins picks up this amalgamated recorder and sets it on top of the next largest. He puts his hand over the stack he's just made. "Move it up a level," Denkins says. "David Jenkins, or someone who is definitely not David Jenkins, runs a Tumblr with games and puzzles and digital tools that stretch the boundaries of the narrative. He sees the reactions to his story. Sees fans who know it isn't real, who know that Stede and Ed are characters in a narrative—and nevertheless, these fans, these people, see that these characters are hurting. They try to help. They don't know who's behind the masks labeled 'Stede' and 'Ed,' not really. But they feel compassion anyway."

He lifts his hand. The little recorder atop the larger is gone. The music is different. Not lessened, but changed. It's come closer.

Once more, Denkins moves the smaller combined recorder onto the last one—or, I suppose, the first of all of them. "So move it up one more time," he says. The music isn't audible in the room now; but I hear it anyway. It's in me. Us. The last little notes coming from the final recorders just a reminder of what the world could sound like.

He covers the top recorder with both hands. His touch is aching and very, very soft. "Here's me. Javid Denkins. I don't know if there's a world where I could open myself up and not have everything burn down in flames. I don't know if it could ever be possible for me to leave this room, open my laptop, and start something, somewhere, called 'definitely not Javid Denkins,' and have it be as beautiful and awe-inspiring as it was in my thought experiment.

"But God," he says, "I want it."

He lifts his hands, and all that's left is the final recorder, the one that was my phone to begin with. The music dissipates completely. But the feeling of it remains. Denkins rests his hands on either side of this solitary recorder. He says, "I don't know if all of that—all of them, my fans, my friends, all of what we made together…I don't know if it already exists for me in the real world. Just waiting for me to be brave enough to look. I don't know. But I think I have to believe that it does. That they do. I have to believe that it's possible not just to imagine that kind of grace, but to live it."

Denkins brushes his thumb over the last recorder's play button. "I think that's what it means to be human," he says. "To try anyway. To unlock yourself despite your fears, and find hope there waiting for you."

He closes his eyes. I close my eyes. We take a deep breath together.

We open our eyes.

After a moment, I smile at Denkins, a little crooked. I've got one last question to ask, and it's one he might even answer.

"Who are you, really?" I ask.

It's something we all have to answer about ourselves eventually, and it seems particularly relevant now.

Denkins shrugs, and his smile mirrors mine. "Does it matter?"

"It feels like it does."

"How about this," he says. "Who are you, really?"

And knowing what I know now…if I'm anyone at all, then I suppose I'm Javid Denkins. An aspect. A reflection. A dream.

And so, in these universes he's imagined, is everyone.

"So," Denkins says. "You think I can start over?"

I smile wider. It feels good. "I'd love that."

He pushes the recorder back to me, and in my heart I hear his laughing request for one last rephrase—

Javid Denkins has been waiting for me.

It's 9:30 in the morning and I'm sitting across the table from a cheerful enigma. Denkins was already in the room when I arrived, a hot coffee by my seat and a box filled with fresh breakfast pastries and marmalade open and ready to be enjoyed. An advertising standup emblazoned with the unreleased (at time of writing) air date for season two of Denkins's Blow the Man Down takes pride of place at the head of the table. Through the windows opposite, bright sunlight bounces off the buzzing AMC studio lot, and I think I hear a certain pirate romcom's theme music playing quietly over the room's speakers.

Denkins grins at me, and it's easy to see why his actors and writers speak so highly of the experience of working with him. Because I can tell already: this is going to be fun.

It starts when he leans forward, eyes bright, and presses the record button on my phone for me.

"Let's play," he says, and—we do.

#definitely not david jenkins #definitely not javid denkins #btmd #ofmd

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rikiluvly · 9 months

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Hey! If your taking requests, I'd thought it would be cute to see Enhypen riki and Y/n interacting at the Fate tour :) like he goes up to her or sumthing:)

Tysm for this idea anon! <3

REMEMBER?

idol!riki x engene!reader

lowercase intended!

part 1 | part 2 |

SYNOPSIS: past interactions with Enhypen always ended in regret. were you no memorable enough, or will they forget about you? but after an interaction with the maknae of Enhypen maybe someone did remember you.

this was not your first Enhypen concert, definitely not. you have totally never even given it a thought that maybe someone from Enhypen would remember you. well that’s a lie. every night you go to sleep hoping that you left a good impression when meeting them, that maybe, maybe they would remember you when you meet them again.

Fate world tour in Seoul.

your favourite song chaconne just finished and you breathe deeply after the screaming session you just had with your friend. you watched your bias Ni-ki dance to the song and you didn’t dare take your eyes of him. suddenly the Enhypen members are jumping of off stage to talk to some engenes. on the screen you could see Jungwon walk into a crowd of people to go talk to someone.

your so invested in that that you don’t even notice Ni-ki had just spawned in front of you. people scream around you asking Ni-ki to take photos and videos on their phones. Riki snatches your phone of you and ends your recording session.

he then holds the phone up to his face and does a backwards peace sign. surprisingly, he moves himself so that he’s next to you so that your in the frame of the camera along with him. you hold up a heart and Ni-ki connects his hand with yours. jesus. his hands were so soft. you both smile and he ends the video.

“Have a nice day y/n,” Ni-ki says as he walks away not giving you any time to respond. he remembers you? your friend giggles next to you as she caught the whole thing on camera. your cheeks were bright red as you smile knowing that you surely wouldn’t forget this.

once you have arrived home you flop down on your bed. he remembers me. you thought to yourself. you tried to make a promise to yourself that you won’t think too much of what happened, but so far you have already broken it. you replay the video again which has been favourited and added the the Ni-ki album in your camera roll. you notice something on his hand when he did the peace sign… a number. oh my days. is that the Nishimura Riki’s number. how did he keep that on his hand without anyone noticing? you type the number into your phone and send a message saying

‘hey it’s y/n!’.

you waited for a reply checking every your messages every 1 or 2 minutes. until you get a message saying…

‘hey y/n Its Ni-ki’

A/N: my first one-shot! Hope you enjoyed and make sure to request any ideas you have!

#enhypen x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #nishimura riki x reader #anon #request #one shot #niki x you #nishimura riki x you #riki x you

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seangelfish · 2 months

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I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT FOR A LONG TIME YEIII amh I could ask for headcanons for bae and kanata with a cute mc fem from the town who just arrived in the city therefore she doesn't know anything about paradox or hiphop or the city in general je but she is open to learning new things uvu that would be all ~ thank you

MEETING A NEWCOMER

Featured characters: Allen Sugasano, Hajun Yeon, Anne Faulkner, Kanata Yatonokami ♡ Tags: Headcanons but also a bulletpoint fic, mutual crush, casual romance, she/her pronouns, not really proofread! Not really sure what to write for Hajun, so I'm sorry if it's not up to standard! ♡ Word count: 1,895 ♡ Synopsis: You, a newcomer, was introduced into a city of hip hop. You didn't quite understand it, but you were eager to learn from the people around you.

You have moved here for university, not knowing what this city was actually known for. You just assumed it was any other ordinary city...

Allen, who was one of your fellow classmates at university was an odd one. He didn't look friendly so you didn't try socialising with him at first, but when you saw how he acted towards his friends, you decided to at least try.

You found out that he was just awkward. He greeted you in return when you introduced yourself, but his eyes started sparkling when you mentioned that you were new to the area. He asked whether you're into hip hop, but if you weren't, he had some recommendations for you to listen to.

"Is hip hop that big here?" you asked him curiously.

"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "There used to be this place called Club Paradox where..."

You listened to him ramble on and on about hip hop and these legends called 'Buraikan' who founded these so-called 'Phantom Lives.'

It was all a little confusing, but it had you intrigued. Because of this, the two of you had exchanged contact info so Allen would be able to send you his recommendations. When you were finished listening to them, you would text him your thoughts. Gradually, you started having a taste for hip hop that in your free time, you'd visit record shops looking for songs that you haven't heard of yet!

Allen was always so appreciative of how willing you were to indulge in his interests — in his life. He wanted to show you more about the city and about hip hop, but he also just wanted to spend more time with you.

"I also produce and write my own songs!" Allen said one day, hoping that would impress you. "Would you like to listen to them?"

"Seriously? That's so cool. Of course, I'd like to listen!"

"Alright, just meet me at the club! I'm performing there as BAE with Anne and Hajun."

"C-Club?"

"Oh, haven't you been to a club before? Then I'll accompany you before our performance starts. It'll be fun!"

Why not? you thought.

Allen picked you up before his performance and showed you around the club. It was an interesting yet fun experience, but what you found kind of weird was how he kept holding your hand throughout it all. You didn't think too much of it though. He was probably doing that in consideration of you, so you wouldn't get lost in the crowd.

"So yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it!" he said. "Will you be okay here? We're starting in ten minutes."

"Yes, I'll be fine," you replied. "I can't wait to see you perform!"

"Alright, see you later, (Y/N)!"

Watching him perform live was amazing. You finally understood why people here liked watching 'Phantom Lives.' They were incredible! You were so drawn into Allen's performance that you couldn't see anything else but him.

"Haha, how was it?" he asked you, panting.

"It was so cool!" you chirped. "And that was the song you wrote too? It was great!"

"Hahaha, thanks, (Y/N)!"

So whatever Allen did with hip hop, you were there too. You became closer to him than before that he no longer was a classmate to you, but someone even more special.

Just like everyone else, you were drawn to Hajun's prince-like charms, but you never dared to speak to him. He was definitely on another level than you, and you didn't want to disturb him with your plain, ordinary presence.

However, fate brought you together when Hajun spoke to you first. He picked up clues that you were new around here and wanted to help you familiarise yourself.

Confused but thankful, you accepted his offer. He was like a tour guide, bringing you in his limo around the city. It was kind of awkward at first, but he eased you into it when he would ask you where you came from and why you decided to move. He was friendly, but you could taste the way he teased you too.

After bringing you to so many places, Hajun had asked you if you knew about hip hop or anything to do with phantom lives. When you denied it, he merely chuckled and said that you should watch him perform. He didn't go further than that, so you had to find out yourself what he meant by it.

BAE was his hip hop group where they performed phantom lives at clubs. You entered by yourself, waiting for the show to begin. Hajun was up there on stage accompanied by Anne and Allen. Their performance was spectacular. The way Hajun rapped was something you didn't expect coming from him, but at the same time, it made perfect sense.

"So you made it," he teased. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"Y-Yes, it was good!" you exclaimed. "Those were the illusions you talked about? They were pretty! How were you able to do that?"

"With my phantometal, of course," he replied, showing you the feather ring on his finger. He let you touch it due to curiosity. "Isn't it cool~?"

"It is!" you giggled. "Can I watch you perform again next time?"

"Haha, sure."

Not only did Hajun help you with familiarising yourself with the city, but with university work too. You should be grateful though because he wasn't doing this for just anyone. However, he was also questioning his actions when he thought about it.

He supposed that he was helping you out so much because he was also in a similar position when he arrived in Japan. He just wanted to make your experience here easy for you.

Plus hanging out with someone cute like you was actually fun. He loved answering whatever questions you threw at him especially those relating to hip hop. He always looked forward to your daily greeting in person and text.

Anne had caught an interest to you almost immediately. Of course, it was because you were cute, but it was also because your outfits were embarrassingly plain. They wondered if you'd allow them to dress you up. So one day in class, they introduced themselves.

Once Anne took in the info that you were new here, they were even more excited to become your friend. They wanted to show you everything! Entertainment, fashion, music, everything you were interested in!

And that's how you were introduced to hip hop too.

Taking in the knowledge of the city from Anne was like homework. They dumped everything on you so quickly that it was hard to grasp, but as they pulled you around the city, it was always so exhilarating.

"Oh, I'm also a part of BAE," they said. "It's the hip hop unit I'm in with Allen and Hajun. We usually perform at clubs, but we're going to be competing in Paradox Live next!"

"P-Paradox Live?" you queried. You knew of phantom lives since Anne mentioned those before, but this was different.

"Yep, it's gonna be huge! We're going up against other hip hop units to win ten billion! You'll come support us, right?"

Of course you were.

But standing in front of Club Paradox was intimidating. Everyone around you looked excited out of their minds, but you were the opposite.

"(Y/N), over here!" called out Anne. As you turned, they linked your arm with theirs and led you inside with Allen and Hajun. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to leave you here," they continued. "But watch us closely, okay?"

Watching Anne perform that night was thrilling. Even when the rest of the units performed their songs, Anne's performance was something you couldn't shake off. The illusions that they described to you through words could not compare to the real thing.

After that, you would always watch Anne in person whenever they were performing with BAE in Paradox Live; cheering them on and voting for them. Anne would always look for you in the crowd too, happy that you appeared in their life.

Unlike BAE, you didn't meet Kanata at university. You bumped into him on the streets to university. You were lost and that's how you ended up at the slums. He thought you were an idiot, but he helped you out anyway.

You explained that you were new to the city, so you still didn't know your way around. Kanata was disinterested, but when you asked him why hip hop was so prevalent around here, his ears perked up.

He explained everything, but he also mentioned how there's 'real hip hop' and those who desire to make hip hop but fail. You were curious about what he meant by this, so you pressed him further into showing you what 'real hip hop' was.

He was about to refuse. He didn't really want to get close to you to begin with, but seeing that sparkle in your eye made him think otherwise. It also didn't help that you were kind of cute.

"Fine," he breathed. "When do you finish uni? I could show you today."

And so he did. After dropping you off at university, he picked you up straight after you were finished. It was evening by then, so the streets you walked on were crowded with people waiting for a team called 'Cozmez' to perform.

He grabbed your wrist and dragged you into some shady underground business, situating you in a corner where he was sure nobody could disturb you.

"Just stay here," he said. "You'll be okay."

"W-Wait, where are you going?"

"I'm performing."

Before you could say anything else, he grinned. "You'll see what real hip hop is, (Y/N)."

And he was gone. You noticed that he was with someone else too, someone that looked oddly similar to him that you just knew he was his brother. When they were on stage, the crowd cheered louder than before.

That's when Kanata started rapping. You watched him intently, your eyes following his every movement, his every word. The music was loud, but it was exciting.

"So this is a 'phantom live'..." you murmured to yourself as you watched the illusions the twins were creating. "It's beautiful..."

You didn't expect Kanata to come back to you right after performing, but he did, asking you what you thought of it. You caught the slight bit of excitement in his question which also surprised you because even if you had just met him today, you already had his character noted down in the back of your mind. He was rude and aggressive, but he was also kind in a way.

You smiled. "It was awesome! I can't believe this is what I was missing out on!" you replied. "You were amazing, Kanata!"

His cheeks heated up, but you couldn't tell as it was dim. "Thanks," he said casually.

"Eh~ who's this?" asked his twin. "Kanata, I didn't think you were that type of person–"

"I-It's nothing like that!"

Nayuta introduced himself because if his brother was willing enough to bring a random girl to a place like this, he was sure that Kanata was a little interested in you.

"Be good to my brother, okay?" he whispered into your ear teasingly.

From then on, you became close to the Yatonokami twins, but you were even closer to Kanata, the boy who helped you on your first day. He became a lot more patient with you as he introduced you to even more places around the city, familiarising yourself with hip hop and the story behind it. It was always so fun learning more things when it was with Kanata.

And perhaps, Kanata was a little thankful that you got lost in the slums that day too.

Intro page | Paradox Live masterlist | Request rules

#paradox live #paralive #paradox live x reader #paralive x reader #bae x reader #cozmez x reader #allen sugasano x reader #hajun yeon x reader #anne faulkner x reader #kanata yatonokami x reader #x reader #x y/n #fanfic #fic #paralive imagines #paradox live imagines #paradox live headcanons #paralive headcanons

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bradleyfuckingbradshaw · 2 years

Text

Gorgeous

Pairing: Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x fem!reader

Summary: Everyone goes to the bar to celebrate your night off before training starts tomorrow and Hangman get's a little too much. Needless to say, protective Bradley is pretty fucking hot (contains smut).

Doesn't necessarily contain any spoilers for Top Gun, but if you don't want any type of spoilers, it's probably best not to read on :)

He intertwines his fingers with yours, and the feeling of his skin against yours is enough to calm the butterflies in your stomach. It's not easy for either of you to be walking back into this place, but you were handpicked for this mission. That's not something you ignore. Besides, part of you feel like coming home.

"Ready?" he asks, and you nod. The bar is already full, but most turn around to see the final two pilots arrive. Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw's reputation definitely proceeds him, and you're happy to let him have the spotlight.

"Don't let go of my hand," he whispers and you squeeze his hand gently to let him know that you're right there next to him.

"Well, well, well. As I live and breathe," Jake smirks. He looks at your intertwined fingers before looking up at you.

"You really have scraped the bottom since last," he remarks. Everyone gets busy with the pool game as Jake walks up to you and Bradley. Last time you were here, you came here with Jake. A fact none of you have forgotten.

"Gee. 10 seconds before you turned into a right asshole. Must be a new record for you." It's safe to say there's no lost love between you and Hangman.

"Rooster," he says instead of rising to your comment.

"Hangman. You look good." His grip on your hand tightens but he keeps his face neutral. Nobody wants an argument on the last free night before your mission.

"I'm very good, Rooster. Wish I could say the same about you." He returns to the game, giving you and Bradley a chance to take some deep breaths.

"I need a drink," you state, moving towards the bar. Bradley stays put when Phoenix comes over. You give her a grin before disappearing into the crowd of people. Minutes later you're back with a round of beer for everyone. You deserve it before things get serious tomorrow, besides some old guy at the bar had broken one of Penny's rules, so it's on him.

"So, Y/N. I heard you tanked your last mission. Had to get demoted to the spare team." Already, you're starting to regret that you even showed up tonight. Jake hasn't changed one bit. You're thankful when Bradley's hand finds yours again to let you know that he won't intervene but he's right there.

"And I heard you still weep over me at night," you say with a sweet and very fake smile. It's the wrong thing to say. You know that instantly because everything in his face reveals how he goes from uncomfortable teasing to downright cruel.

"Maybe we should introductions out the way, huh? Coyote, I'd love to hear how you got your name," Phoenix tries to diffuse the tension but the damage has already been done.

"No no, it's fine. She's right. I do weep at night because even I have to admit that you were the best shag I've ever had," he starts, and you feel Bradley go rigid next to you. Jake notices it too and it only makes his smile wider.

"Rooster, I don't doubt you already know this because we both know she gives it up quite easily—"

"Another word out of your mouth, and I will make sure you'll be carried out of here by paramedics." He isn't shouting, he hasn't even stepped closer to Jake, but there's no doubt that he's very serious. You look up at his face, and you've never seen him this angry before. His entire body is tense, and you just know it's taking everything in him to keep himself from throwing himself at Jake.

"You know, I'd be scared if I didn't know your reputation as a pilot, Rooster." Jake is still smiling as he steps closer to Bradley. It's a big mistake, and everyone knows it. You spot Coyote and Payback move closer too - probably to step in when these two start throwing punches.

"At least I care about my teammates enough to not leave them behind," Bradley counters as he releases your hand and steps in front of you.

"Shit," you breathe. This is about to kick off.

"Boys... No fighting in here." Penny is watching the whole scene unfold, and you feel relief hit you like a brick. They're not dumb enough to continue when Penny is standing right there.

"We were just leaving, Penny." You offer her a quick smile before grabbing Bradley's hand and pulling him through the crowd. You force yourself not to look at Jake who's definitely watching you leave with a smirk. Thankfully, the cold air outside seems to help Bradley calm down because he turns to you and says: "I'm sorry. I know you can handle yourself but the things he was saying. No man should speak about a woman like tha—" You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him. Now that you're not worried about a potential fight, you can't ignore just how fucking hot Bradley looked in there.

"You are ridiculously hot. I don't think I've ever been more attracted to you than I was in there," you say when you finally break apart. You're breathing heavily but you want more. You want all of him right now.

"That was hot? I thought I totally ruined feminism by acting like a caveman and not letting you handle him yourself," he chuckles. You grab him by the collar and drag him with you to the side of the bar with no windows. You push him up against the wall and places a hand between his legs to cup his bulge.

"Listen, I can handle Jake anytime, but you being protective is just... God, it's sexy." You kiss him again and feel his body respond to your touch, which just turns you on even more. Both his hands cup your cheeks as he kisses you back. When he gently bites your lip, you're about ready to swoon.

"We should go somewhere more private," he whispers as a drunk man stumbles out the bar. You're hidden in the shadows but you know it's much better to go back to your room.

"Let's go," you say and drag him with you.

The walk back takes a lot longer than it should because you just can't keep your hands off each other. Every two seconds, you stop just to feel each other. You can hardly describe how good it feels when his body is pressed against yours. When you finally return, your cheeks are burning from anticipation. You've already unbuttoned his shirt by the time you hear the soft click of the door closing. It is not fair for any man to look like this.

"The things I want to do to you," you note as you look at your incredibly gorgeous boyfriend.

"Tell me," he breathes, eyes full of desire. You lean up and whisper things that would make most people blush, but he isn't blushing. In fact, he's looking at you and dares you to do just that. To do as you please with him, and you're more than happy to comply.

"Lie down on the bed." You wet your lips as you watch him lie down on the bed completely at your command. It's so different from how he is normally, but it gives you flutters in your stomach. You crawl on top of him and unzip his pants. You want to take it slow and drive him crazy, but you realise quickly that you can't wait. You want to feel him inside of you.

"I'm going to ride you," you say out loud and lock eyes with him. You bite down on your lower lip as you watch him struggle to lay still. In a matter of moments, you're both naked and very ready. For just a brief second, you hover on top of him, but it's not nearly enough for any of you.

"Please." One single word and it does so many things to you that you're not even remotely coherent enough to analyze. Your hands lean on his muscular chest as you start moving up and down. The lamp on the night shade is bathing Bradley in a soft, golden light, and you feel speechlees at the sight. Small beads of sweat are resting on his forehead, and you just might come right then and there.

"That's it," he moans and brings up his hands to your waist to help set the pace. When he sits up with you on top, you feel everything tighten as you come the first time.

"One more," he breathes, and you can do nothing but obey. The second orgasm hits you just as he finishes. You're both sweaty and panting when he wraps his strong arms around your waist and holds you in place as he gets up from the bed and carries you to the bathroom.

"Better clean up before we go to bed," he says, carefully lifting you up and off him. The emptiness hits you but it isn't long until Bradley has got the warm water running and falls to his knees in the shower. You don't have to be told when you spread your legs to give him access.

"You're so beautiful," he whispers against your inner thigh as he places little kisses up your thigh. Your hands find his hair, and you pull slightly as he reaches the spot. Your legs grow weak as you squeeze your eyes shut. He directs one of your legs over his shoulder for better access, and you're absolutely done for.

"Bradley," you gasp and grip his hair tightly. He groans and you feel the vibrations. It's almost too much pleasure at once. By the time, the water turns cold, you're almost too sleepy to stand on your own.

"I love you," he smiles as you cuddle up in bed.

"And I love you, Bradley Bradshaw."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #jake hangman seresin #top gun blurb #top gun fic #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #top gun spoilers #top gun smut #top gun 2

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

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Another great prompt from @wrenegadeone 💖

Corroded Coffin had gotten big, like national tour big, they had a bus for christsake! Eddie loves it, every night he gets to perform in front of an adoring crowd playing the music that he loves.

While Eddie loves all of his fans, it does come with a downside. He gets recognised, everywhere. He's perfectly happy to sign autographs and take pictures but it means that most people he meets are more interested in Eddie the Lead Guitarist of Corroded Coffin than Eddie, Just Eddie.

So it's refreshing when he meets Steve. Steve isn't a big metal fan and doesn't like how toxic social media is and never reads tabloids. Eddie met Steve in a little hole in the wall bar that he discovered was owned by Steve's closest friends Nancy and Robin, an adorable couple that he instantly hit it off with.

Eddie doesn't hide his musical talents from his new lover, playing him a cover of Steve's favourite song for their one month anniversary. Steve was so enamoured he asked Eddie to teach him how to play. Eddie was patient with Steve slowly showing him the chords and laughing together when he got it wrong. The lessons didn't last long but they were fun.

After three months Eddie came clean about his stardom not wanting to wait to have to tell Steve when he went on tour again at the end of the year. Steve didn't seem to care and still treated Eddie the same. After 6 months the two men moved in together, tired of jumping from one apartment to another and it meant Eddie wasn't paying rent while he was on tour.

One day, close to dating for 8 months, Eddie comes home to music coming from the bedroom. It sounded like Eddie's acoustic which rarely got taken out of storage. He cracked open the door and there on the bed was Steve, playing a beautiful acoustic that definitely wasn't Eddie's. Eddie tried to tell what song Steve was playing but didn't recognise it.

"You learnt how to play?"

Steve stops playing abruptly looking wide eyed at Eddie.

"Um, Hellfire end early?"

"Ah yeah, yeah it did. Stevie why didn't you tell me you were taking lessons, I wouldn't have been offended you know."

"Well, because I wasn't? I um, I already knew how to play?"

"You already knew how to play? Why didn't you tell me, why was I teaching you?" Eddie laughs.

"Because you looked so cute trying to teach me and I wanted to spend more time with you."

"Aw sweetheart, that's adorable. What're you playing anyway? I didn't recognise it. Also where have you been hiding this guitar?"

"That's something else I should come clean about, the guitar well it's been stashed at Robin's most of the time but I needed to record my new songs and her acoustics are terrible."

"You wrote that song?"

"Yeah, I've actually been writing songs for awhile, ever heard of Bat King?"

"Ah yeah... The guy that anonymously posts his shit in Spotify, it's really good stuff. Wait, no fuck Steve you're Bat King?"

"Suprise?" Steve says weakly.

"Baby your music is incredible, why didn't you tell me?"

"Well you know how people can be, same reason you didn't tell me about Corroded Coffin, I knew by the way, I don't live under a rock, Eds"

"I love you, Stevie. Finish your song, I'd love to hear it."

Eddie discovers that a lot of Steve's most recent songs are about him but he's written a whole album worth of songs about Steve for his next tour so he supposes they're even.

#i struggled for a singer name for steve lol #this was fun to write tho #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #musician steve harrington

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wavernot4love · 1 month

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hello fun 2ourdust albany things (note i typed this at like 4:30 am last night when i simply couldn't sleep but then passed out before i could post it so it may not be the most coherent)

- pete talking about upstate being special 2 him due to memories of taking a bus to a tattoo parlor in syracuse and feeling inspired by all these cool achc dudes... god i love hardcore scene lore fob stuff ESPECIALLY when upstate gets brought into it

- reinventing the wheel for the first time in apparently seventeen YEARS (i take full responsibility for making this happen due to my showing up in my tttyg crewneck /s)

- andy waved to us!! long story short about 30 of us were waiting by the wrong buses sadly & just barely missed pete & patrick meeting folks by the right ones. we were pretty heartbroken when we came over & found out, but a combination of the andy thing & meeting/trading bracelets/caroling along to folie songs (if ya know ya know) with cool folks turned waiting after the show into a fond memory regardless. i love the fob community, dude. t/2ourdust has changed everything for me.

and still i just find it worth noting how sick it is that this tour pete & patrick have been taking the time to come out & talk w folks. you don't see that much with bands playing arena shows and it makes me happy to see.

- lots of celebration for the smfs anniversary!

muse live (shit is INCREDIBLE live dude), kintsugi & what a time to be alive for medley, lil pete speech about the record.

- ginasfs instead of sixteen candles as a wild card again!!! i cannot believe i have heard her three times now when if you asked me two years ago i never would have thought i'd hear her once!

- smfs is definitely a worthy replacememt for srar in every sense. i appreciate both similarly, and i love that they recall tourdust's srar performance in the sense of it serving as a great medley transition, also in regard a to collaboration (everyone joining in to sing at the end, in this case joe especially)

- that reminds me, it seemed like pete did a lot of backing vox tonight which was nice

- i may only really know a handful of jimmy songs well but great band and jim adkins is one of those people that just seems nice. i like watching the dude do his thing.

- seeing hot mully in an arena was crazy. was pretty sad they cut featuring mark hoppus but still was nice 2 see them

- i remain wholly not a fan of seated shows, at least not for this kinda music, that did get me down at a couple points as i just can't move the way i wanna (not being able to mosh to cbts etc like at tourdust sucked, as well as just being confined to my seat/row all night) & also it seems to keep the crowd in general way more stagnant.

but at least i could see well + no one around me was particularly disrespectful!!

i also respect fob's ability to make a concert at an arena like this still feel like a SHOW (in the scene sense)

- and finally, have nightmare quality pete randomly crawling inside the inflatable dog (i am currently forgetting dude's name)

#fall out boy #fob #2ourdust #so much for 2ourdust #so much for (2our) dust #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #am i sat here contemplating if i should try to swing pittsburgh wednesday? perhaps #regardless i am just glad to be here/have fob in my life #grateful to have this music & community #wavernot4love gets 2 the gig #2ourdust albany

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slow-writer · 3 months

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TMAGP (and TMA, indirectly) Spoilers and Thoughts...

You have been warned...

I wasn't part of the original TMA crowd back when it was first airing. I'd heard mutterings of it, but never really thought much about it. To be honest, I probably wasn't mentally ready for it back then. Instead, my younger sister started listening to it last year and then kept talking about it until something she said made me go, "Y'know what? Okay. I'm in."

I ended up bingeing through it during work this past October, and holy sh*t. I fell down the rabbit hole hard. (Maybe, in this case, it would be more akin to running face first down those coffin stairs? I digress.) Being so new to it when everyone else had already been swallowed up by the sky, it was cool to dig into the Wikis that had already been made, to see the links and foreshadowing.

But now, it's the beginning of TMAGP, and I actually get to listen the day they release, to jump on here, or reddit, or tiktok, or wherever to be a part of the theorizing AS IT HAPPENS. And boy oh boy, I'm happier than Simon Fairchild in the stratosphere.

Do I have a notebook to jot down my thoughts as I listen? Of course, I do. Do I have multiple tabs open, some with ARG info, some with TMA info, and yet more with references to alchemical symbols and practices? Duh. Have I started my own spreadsheet for it all? Well, if you knew about my Lego Dimensions spreadsheet.... nevermind. Yes, I have.

But nothing beats being able to talk (or type) about it with other fans, like my sister, or those faceless avatars (lol) of the interwebs. And man, has my brain been CHURNING.

First, let me get out of the way that I wasn't able to take part in the ARG as it was happening, and my goodness! I'm so happy there are other people out there like me who were able to sum up and load it up for the rest of us to learn about. No idea how much of it will be *necessary* to unlock all the secrets, but I'm the kind who loves to know trivia just cos. And the details I am learning definitely pull me deeper.

Second, I feel like in the beginning of TMA, there was barely anything for the listeners to dig through. One guy working on behalf of an organization, trying to dig through seemingly implausible and overly spooktastic first-hand statements dating back centuries that are in crazy disarray from the previous archivist, and he's laying on a hefty helping of "this is utter balderdash, complete poppycock, and absolute piffle" opinion. It was a slow burn, something that (as an American, and being exposed to so much more instant gratification in storytelling than necessary) UK storytellers seem to be experts in, and was even more expertly done in this case, since so many little things had to eventually build up without listeners automatically assuming what would happen next, without them getting bored.

But TMAGP is already so full of so much extra stuff, so many little things (even before it was released) that we may all get BURIED in the sheer amount of data we think is vital. We're not listening to tapes this time, we're definitely listening via internet-connected devices, like computers, mobile phones, and security cameras. So, while TMA had old tape recorders magically appearing (or were they being dragged by hordes of spiders?) and switching themselves on so they could hear all the random happenings within the archive, TMAGP is no longer reliant on such hand-wavery. Whatever/whoever is listening can do so from anywhere to anyone they want. That makes the world of TMAGP

SO MUCH BIGGER.

Third, I know not everyone who listens to these things is like me (or, let's face it: us--there are so many fans doing regular deep dives on here, we should have our own categorization on the wiki). There are bound to be listeners who just leave everything at face value and wait for the story to unfold itself organically, and when it's done, it's done. But even as an adolescent, when I got into something, I did my best to listen to, watch, or read everything I could find on that very niche thing. At least for a while. (Hello, undiagnosed ADHD!)

So, I watched/listened to a couple interviews and Q&As regarding the new show prior to release. And while both Alex and Jonny have been clear saying you don't have to have listened to TMA to enjoy TMAGP, I kind of think just saying that is leading us TMA fans in a very specific direction. And I think it's very intentional, and that a lot of fans either haven't heard about it yet, or are choosing to ignore it.

They say that TMAGP is tangentially related to TMA in that there will be familiar themes, but

it's taking place in a completely different universe from TMA;

time in TMA worked differently (especially during the Entity Torturepalooza in S5) towards the end, so dates of events there may not line up with dates or events in this universe; and

the main or overarching theme is different.

In TMA, the story was "what makes a monster a monster?" As in, is there a line one crosses that they can't return from? Is it a physical manifestation, like it alters their appearance? Is it an action they have to take? And does that action have to be done willingly, or can it be coerced? Does becoming the monster to protect someone else, or to achieve a greater good... does any of that matter?

In TMAGP, they've already said that the story will be "what makes a person a person?"

The implications of that sentence are many and mind-boggling.

I first thought it had something to do with the idea of the humane (not human): kindness, empathy, compassion. The ties that bind us together as people (like being fans of a little horror podcast from across the pond) could be part of this.

But, now that we have 5 episodes out, and a metaphorical army of lore-deep-divers digging through every word and sound effect and episode title, I think we can truly start to figure out where we're heading.

Artificial Intelligence.

It struck me as I was re-listening to the first episode this morning. (I really am trying to fill out my spreadsheet in a semi-logical manner and with as many pertinent details as possible, really. That's the main reason I was doing that this morning. At least, that's what I tell myself.) We are hearing all these happenings over web-connected devices (don't think I don't see you, Alex and Jonny, and your oh-so-hilarious punning!), the OIAR employees are working on a modified business-forward version of Windows NT 4.0 that precedes Windows 95 that has a name that we interpret as 'Freddy' (or Freddie, depending on where you are in the transcripts), one of the documents from the ARG was a spreadsheet called 'Klaus' (which IS the name of the former IT guy Gwen's asking about because she heard/saw young Lena arguing with him), and we have at least 3 text-to-speech "voices" that Alice has given names (Chester, Norris, and Augustus).

All of that was running through my brain, and then I heard this passage within the first few minutes of the episode:

LENA - Nonsense. Sam is the only one who has had any cake so far. GWEN - And that was only because you practically forced it down his throat. SAM - No, no, it was… nice. LENA - People like chocolate cake.

People like chocolate cake? She didn't even ask her employees (all 5 of them at that time) what flavor they'd prefer, or if they'd want something else? No. She just knows a fact that "people" like chocolate cake, so of course, her employees--who are people--would like chocolate cake.

Almost like a computer following a logic-based workflow, perhaps?

Lots of people have been trying to figure out who in the office is the Big Bad, and many are saying Gwen just because of her ambition and her last name (Bouchard), but I think her name is a red herring. Others are saying Alice knows more than she lets on (and so many are hating on her, and I will NOT ABIDE THE ALICE DYER SHADE because I love her and I would very probably hide bodies for her) but I agree that certain things she's said are a little sus, though they really could just be her personality. I really have known some women like her, and they are some of my favorite people. (Plus, the fact that we now know that she's the most tenured employee at the OIAR--save possibly Lena--does make the brain churn some more.)

But with this line about chocolate cake, and how she was unable to join them at the pub, and how we haven't had a scene with her outside of the OIAR office, it makes me think that Lena might just be part code.

[Let me also add this really quick: I've seen A LOT of people trying to make the current episodes fit into Smirke's 14 +Dekker's 1, but I don't think the Entities as we codified them are what we're dealing with in this universe. I think trying to link everything back to that show will be a lot of wasted thought, because as they said, this isn't a direct sequel. (Do I think it's actually Jon, Martin, and Jonah--yes, Jonah, not Jurgen--trapped in the computer system? A bit, but it won't shatter my appreciation if the voices are something else entirely.)

Plus, I've seen others saying that the statements we've heard, while creepy, aren't all necessarily to do with fear. Most of them are about desires and obsessions.

The woman who wanted so desperately to see her dead husband again that she'd get scammed over and over to possibly resurrect him;

the person who wanted to spelunk an 'unsolved' site to the point of crime;

the woman who wanted to finally feel comfortable in her skin to the point of disfiguring herself;

the man who wanted so badly to climb out of his assigned station and achieve fame that he'd regularly 'feed' his violin blood from other people;

and the man who wanted to feel the same terror he felt when watching scary movies with his dad when he was a kid to the point of chasing down 'borderline illegal films' and ignoring LITERALLY ALL the red flags to the end.

I think that theory is the closest to what we may actually encounter.]

I've seen others on reddit saying they think that this series will be about the race to create the philosopher's stone--the stone that creates the elixir of life and, essentially, immortality. I think it's a valid idea. But, what if it went further than that?

Because with all the alchemical hints dropping in the show's logo, the ARG, and the 3-category system to the statements (yes, I'm keeping track) that could make one think of the spirit, the mind, and the body in alchemy....

What if they're trying to create life from software?

What if these entities or desires or whatevers have been working through some ancient busted code, feeding off statements from "real" humans experiencing strong emotions, watching the employees that work with it every single night, so they can create something as close to a human as possible from just wires and 3 decades of unreadable code?

Oh lord... it just occurred to me that--due to this being a HORROR podcast--they might need to collect a skin suit for the Not Quite Human. Is that what happened to Klaus? Ick. And now I'm hoping I'm wrong.

#the magnus protocol #tma #the magnus archives #tmagp #rant post #theory

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