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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 3 months

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Breakup Help (Chris)

Request: None (Reupload of the second fic I ever wrote and it’s lowkey shit)

Warnings: Friends to lovers, slight angst, insecure Chris, minimal degradation, eating out, basic sex

Y/n’s pov

About two weeks ago Chris’ girlfriend of two years cheated on him with his good friend and unfortunately, Chris walked in on them fucking. It had completely broke his heart, he’s been depressed and hasn’t left his room in days, he just cries and gets mad at his brothers for trying to make him eat a real meal. Matt had called me asking if I would go over and try to talk to Chris and cheer him up since I’m his best friend.

I agreed to go over since Matt and Nick were going to be staying at Madis for the night, needing to have a meeting with Laura anyways. I got my stuff together and went to the store to get Chris a Pepsi, goldfish and a monkey stuffed animal before heading to their house. I used my key to open the door, immediately going down to Chris’ room only to hear him crying really hard.

I knocked on the door softly “Hey buddy, can you unlock the door so I can come in please?” I spoke in a soft voice trying to be comforting. “No go away” his voice cracked as he responded, “Please Chris? I wanna give you a hug and I have something for you” I pleaded. After a loud sigh, Chris unlocked the door and I let myself in, he looked like hell, his hair was a mess, he hadn’t shaved in a few days, and had red eyes with massive bags underneath, I felt bad for him. I set the stuff I brought him on his desk and threw my bag and shoes on the floor before making my way over to the sad boy on his bed. I sat down, pulling him into a tight hug, rubbing his back as he clung onto me and cried.

“Why would they do this to me? Am I really that disposable that they can just move on and forget about me?” he cried out as he pulled away to look at me “No you’re not, you’re a great person and anyone would be lucky to have you as a friend or boyfriend, I’m sorry they did that” I said as I moved his hair out of his face. “S-she said I di-didn’t make her feel good and-d I have a small dick! B-but she always acted like it felt g-good! And s-said I was a ba-bad kisser. They both called me super ugly too” He spoke softly, stuttering over his words as he looked down with tears still streaming down his face.

“Awe Chrisy I’m sorry” I laid next to him on the bed as I spoke. “Now I feel really insecure…” he looked up at me with a sad expression, “Y/n do you think I’m ugly?” He questioned, making me give him a small smile. “Absolutely not, you’re very attractive. You have the most beautiful eyes, a stunning smile, perfect hair, the cutest little freckles, a very charming personality, the prettiest lips, really nice hands, should I continue?” A light blush spread across his face as I complimented him. “You think I have pretty lips and nice hands?” He questioned with a small smirk “Is that all you got from what I just said?” I asked rolling my eyes.

He replied with “No I also got that you think I’m cuuute” cracking a small smile. “Shut up or I’m leaving, you’re never getting complimented again I’ll just say you’re ugly” I rolled my eyes going to get up but he moved to lay on top of me so I couldn’t move and tightly hugged me “NO! I haven’t stopped crying since I caught them, you can’t leave you made me smile!” He said as he hid his face in my neck, “Fine I’ll stay if you get your fat ass off of me” I said pushing him off of me. “Don’t be mean to me, I’m vulnerable” He pouted “You owe me a hug now”

Chris had fallen asleep on me about 30 minutes after I got here but he needed the sleep so I didn’t bother him, a few hours had passed and he had just woken up. “Good morning sleeping beauty” I laughed at him making him whine and move his face away from my neck now laying on his back “Mmm if I’m sleeping beauty then I can’t wake up until I get a true loves kiss” he puckered his lips up and closed his eyes, earning a smack from me “Nice try bud” “It was worth a shot” he laughed.

We decided to watch a movie, Chris munching on the goldfish I brought him, before turning to me “Can I ask you a weird question” he asked earning a nod from me. “Remember what I said earlier?” “You said a lot earlier so you gotta be more specific” “What I said about h/e/n, when she said I was bad in bed” he sighed. “I don’t like where you’re going with this” “Just hear me out, would you um let me like make out with you and give you head? OH, and would you tell me if you think I have a small dick?” He pleaded with me.

I sighed sitting up to look at him “I love you and all but n-“ I didn’t get to finish because he interrupted me. “Before you say no…” He sat up moving his face closer to me, “…can I pleeeeaaaase!? If you don’t like it I’ll stop, I just need feedback on exactly what doesn’t feel good. please, it won’t be weird I promise!” he said, giving me the cutest pout. “Fine only because you look really cute when you make that face” I reluctantly agreed.

Chris pulled off his hoodie and shirt claiming they would make him “too hot” before throwing his blankets off of us sitting on his knees and pulling my face closer to his. I could feel the stubble underneath my fingers when I gently cupped his jaw, his eyes flickered between my eyes and my lips for a second before smashing our lips together. The kiss was hot and needy, Chris’ tongue slid across my bottom lip as he slowly pushed me to lay on my back making me gasp, allowing his tongue slide into my mouth as he moved to hover over me.

My other hand came up to to tread through his hair as his moved to my thigh, I don’t know what h/e/n was talking about when she said he was a bad kisser because that’s most definitely not true. Chris started leaving sloppy, wet kisses down to my neck before sucking deep purple hickies into my skin, pulling away when he heard a small moan come out of me when he sucked on a specific spot. I looked up at him, he was biting his lip looking at me “So how was that?” he asked. “Hmm I think I need one more for good measure” I teased as he smashed our lips together again.

This time he was a lot more rough, slightly sucking on my tongue making me loud out another whiny moan into the kiss. Lightly biting my bottom lip as he pulled away, wearing a cocky smile on his face. “Sooo” “One of the best makeout seshes I’ve ever had, I think you know that” I finally answered “You’re right, I just wanted to hear you say it, pretty. Now can I take off your shirt?” he replied. I just gave him a simple nod, he slid my shirt over my head looking down at my exposed breasts making him groan. He started kissing down my neck again, this time moving lower to leave hickies all over my chest before he wrapped his lips around my left nipple to suck on it, switching to do the same to the right one.

He moved lower, occasionally nipping at the skin of my stomach before he stopped at the waistband of my sweats. He slowly pulled my sweats off and started leaving teasing kisses on my thighs, his hands sliding up my sides as he started slightly sucking hickies into my thighs like he did to the rest of my body. He looked up at me, his eyes now so blown out that there was hardly any blue left, we made eye contact. He pulled away and smirked at me “You’re pretty I hope you know that”

Chris came up to press a soft kiss to my lips “How do you want me to get you wet?” He asked with a light blush across his face. “Just do it however you normally would, okay?” I cupped his face as I spoke, feeling the stubble underneath my fingers. “Okay but if I do that I have to take my pants, is that fine? I’ll still have my boxers on.” He said as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “That’s fine but please stop being so nervous bubs, don’t let that stupid bitch get in your head!” I said pushing his hair back, he just nodded and took off his sweats.

Chris kissed me again for the umpteenth time tonight, licking my bottom lip asking for permission as he presses his hips down against mine. He started grinding against me as we made out, one of his hands coming up to grab one of my tits playing with the nipple making me moan. I felt his cock starting to get hard as he gently bit my bottom lip, I threaded my fingers through his hair and lightly tugged on it. I sucked on his tongue a little bit making him groan into the kiss before he started trailing his kisses down my body once again.

He aggressively pulled my panties down and threw them somewhere behind him, groaning when he saw how wet I was. “Damn, I really made you this wet?” he asked running a finger through my folds, I sheepishly nodded. Chris wasted no time, immediately pumping two fingers in me while kissing my thighs. He curled his fingers up, hitting my g-spot making me gasp before he wrapped his lips around my clit. Chris’ tongue started flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves as he kept curling his fingers up, slowly adding a third one. “Fuck Chris if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum” I moaned out, with his free hand Chris took one of my hands and placed it in his hair. I got the hint and started lightly pulling his hair not wanting to hurt him but his free hand came back to mine making my grip on his hair tighter and made me pull harder causing him to let out a groan.

The vibrations from his constant groaning make me get closer to my high, resulting in me placing both hands in his hair. Chris removed his lips from my clit “You like that baby, am I making you feel good?” he asked with a smirk before removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue. “Sooo g-good Chris, gonna make me cum soon” I whined out as I felt my high approaching. Chris’ fingers started rubbing my clit in fast, tight circles, flicking his tongue in and out of my hole faster. “Oh sh-shit Chris, fuck ‘m gonna cum” I loudly moaned, tightly gripping his hair, making him groan, sending me over the edge.

After he had licked up all my cum, Chris hovered over me, his face shiny and covered in my cum. “So was it any good?” He asked with a cocky smile, already knowing the answer “You taste so good by the way, I might’ve just found my new favorite meal” he said winking. “Very good, the only thing that could make it better would be if you make out with me again” I responded while biting my lip. Chris came closer to my face so that our lips were almost touching “That can be arranged” he said before smashing his lips against mine, pressing his hips against mine once again, fully hard this time.

I grinded my hips up against his making him let out a loud groan “Fuck Y/n/n don’t do that, I’m already hard, I don’t need you making me hornier. It’s already gonna suck trying to ignore it, so d-don’t do tha- sh-shit” As he spoke I trailed my hand down his chest to his cock, giving it a squeeze. “Why don’t we prove the last two things she said wrong? Show me how good you can fuck me with your big cock Chris” I bit my lip and I moved my fingers to toy with the waistband of his boxers as I looked into his eyes. “Are you serious? Because I dont think I’ll be able to control myself if I fuck you and I don’t wanna be too rough or hurt your feelings” He spoke softly as he stroked my cheek with his thumb.

I leaned up to place a kiss below his ear as I whisper “What if I like it rough and have a degradation kink?” I asked before sucking a few hickies into his neck as he processed what I just said. “And I’m on the pill so you can fuck me raw if you want to” I added making him let out a deep growl pulling his boxers down as he placed his lips on mine, teasing his tip through my folds. Chris placed his tip at my entrance, slowly pushing the mushroomed tip in before slamming the rest of his length into me. He pulled away from the kiss looking down at me waiting for me to tell him to move, once I gave him a nod he started pumping in and out of me at a slow pace.

“Chris, faster, please” I whined out as my fingers went to pull his hair. He started speeding up his thrust as we both let out moans “Goddamn you’re so fucking tight, squeezing my cock so good baby” he groaned out, speeding up his thrust even more, my nails starting to dig into his back as I moaned loudly. Chris dropped his head to look down between our bodies to watch his dick pumping in and out of me. “Ch-Chris you’re so big f-fuck! Ohh right th-there!” I whined out when he hit my g-spot repeatedly, I started sucking more hickies into his neck to match mine. “Yeah, you like that baby? You gonna cum all over my cock like a slut?” Chris growled out moving his hands from my waist, the left one going to rub my clit while the right one starts to toy with my nipples.

I grabbed Chris’ right hand bringing it up to my throat, loving the way his jaw dropped for a moment before turning into a smirk as he wrapped his fingers around my throat to choke me. “You’re such a fucking whore, letting your best friend destroy your tight little pussy!” Chris groaned as his thrusts sped up, his fingers on my clit doing the same as he repeatedly hit my g-spot. “I’m gonna cum! Fuck can I please cum!” I begged, whimpering as my nails scratched down his back, Chris’ hand squeezed my throat harder only adding to the pleasure. I felt his thrusts starting get sloppy signaling he’d was close too.

“Cum all over my cock baby, be a good little slut for me.” Chris groaned out. I came around his cock, my walls squeezing tighter around him, making him shoot his load inside of me. Warm spurts of cum painting my walls white. After we both road out our highs Chris stopped rubbing my clit and removed his hand from my throat before pulling out, causing us both to hiss at the feeling before he plopped down next to me. We both caught our breath before Chris spoke “That was something huh?” he chuckled out “I’m gonna be honest h/e/n has absolutely no fucking idea what she’s talking about because that was amazing” I said rolling over to face Chris, who had a big smile spread across his face.

Chris placed a sweet kiss to my lips, smiling into it when I kissed back, he moved some hair behind my ear after we pulled away “Thank you, for everything. You definitely made me feel so much better tonight, now let’s go get cleaned up and then we can go to sleep. I mean if you want to stay, y-you don’t have to it’s okay-y to s-“ he started saying nervously before I cut him off with a kiss. “Chris you don’t have to keep being so insecure with me dude. I’m not h/e/n, I actually care about you and I love you, you’re my best friend. Now come on let’s go shower and then we can cuddle okay?” I said while stroking his cheek. We got up and took a shower getting dressed after, I wore one of his shirts and a pair of boxers, before going to lay down. I was covered in hickies which made Chris feel proud, this was going to be fun to explain to Matt and Nick in the morning…

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x0x0josephinex0x0 · 4 months

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comfort | kmg

i am feeling icky (physically and mentally and basically in all the ways, send help lol) and as always mingyu is my comfort human so i guess i was just feeling it. reader is mentioned to be an introvert. also reader is in a bad place mentally, lowkey is implied to be a depressive episode (self-insert? hi). kinda sorta from mingyu's pov. pet names used (honey, baby, my love). kinda sorta based on this song (How to Love You Today by Son of Cloud).

mingyu understands the difference between being introverted and being quiet -- after all, he's friends with hoshi, an introvert, who can blow his eardrums at a moment's notice. he's also dating you, and while you're no hoshi, you're definitely not a wonwoo, either.

more than understanding the difference between quiet and introverted, though, he knows you. so he knows that look you have in your eyes -- the hollow, dull look that steals over your features, sometimes for weeks at a time, while you struggle to feel anything at all. he sees it in you now as you stare out the window at the gloomy clouds gathering over the hills.

it's getting bad again. he knows it. you're usually so still when you sleep, and so splendidly expressive while you're awake, but recently that has switched -- your dreams are restless and your sleep-talking more vocal, and you spend more time sitting and staring than you do normally, your face blank and empty, your hands cold whenever he reaches for them. these are the kinds of days that sap you of your saturation, leaving you feeling listless and drained -- times when mingyu has to remind you in gentle tones to eat, to come to bed, to join him in the shower. your mind is not always kind to you, so mingyu has made it his personal mission to be so.

the worst part is, you've stopped singing. when you'd been "just friends", sometimes your constant humming and vocalizing would peeve mingyu when he was trying to concentrate, but after living with you for almost two years, he barely notices it anymore. in fact, he only really notices when you stop, and it's one of his first indicators that something is off about you.

he's been waiting for you to tell him what's going on. usually he can tell you're in a bad state before you can, but mingyu also knows that if he tells you he's noticed, you'll start trying to hide it from him. because you don't want to be a burden. (the thought of you ever being too much for him is laughable to mingyu. he loves you like it's breathing -- just an instinct, something he never even needs to think about, because it's just that easy. every person is heavy sometimes, so why was it so unreasonable for you, his most beloved and treasured person, to believe that he'd willingly carry you, no matter how heavy you got?)

so he waits, staying aware of you always, noting how the dark circles under your hollow eyes get more pronounced. and he worries, of course he does. but he also knows that one day, soon, you'll --

"mingyu?"

he's in the kitchen shredding lettuce for a sandwich for you when he hears it: that tiny voice you use when you're sort of kind of hoping he doesn't turn around to look at you. because you're on the verge of tears, or you look like hell, or a million other reasons that he couldn't care less about. so he turns around. "hey baby. what's up?"

"i...i don't feel good."

that's really all he needs. that's really all it takes, if he's being honest with himself. he goes to you where you hover in the doorway, afraid to take up space, and pulls you into his arms. "i know, honey. i've got you."

there's nothing like the feeling of having your tense muscles relax into him, the way your body releases all that angst as he runs a warm hand up and down your back. you lean your head against his shoulder and repeat, "you got me?" softly, almost embarrassed.

but even as mingyu's heart aches for you -- even as the tears prick the back of his eyes as he thinks of how you must've been suffering -- he feels so grateful. grateful that you trust him. grateful that you feel safe enough to do what he knows is so scary for you. grateful that you choose to do it despite everyone in the past who has made you feel inadequate for needing a hand.

he presses one, two, three kisses to your temple. "i've got you, my love. i've always got you."

#mingyu x reader #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu really do be my emotional support celebrity liiiike #literally love him so much #seventeen fanfic #seventeen mingyu #seventeen #svt #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt x reader #svt fic #Spotify

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hazbinpage · 3 months

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Lucifer x Reader HCs

(In which your relationship is romantic and you both live in the hotel.)

WC is 1741

(A/N: I love Lucifer so much. What a man. That being said, he's probably really OOC in this: we've only seen his character in a select few situations, none of which demonstrate how he treats his romantic partner or bonds with people he doesn't know, and I haven't read enough fics about him to decide what I like. Additionally, I'm not the best at writing romance at this point, so hopefully nothing is too off lol! With the disclaimers out of the way, please enjoy and lmk what you think! :))

-He isn't very fond of sinners, and while his perspective on them has changed since joining the hotel, his opinion certainly hasn't flipped 180 degrees. How could it have? Good deeds never made the news in Hell, and the dead he was forced to interact with were powerful. Powerful sinners were never innocent; no one becomes an overlord by accident. Centuries upon centuries of talking to the powerful, witnessing only violence and hatred, will not be undone by a single moment of comradery in war — a battle where he couldn't know if the sinners were acting solely in their own self-interest.

-This is why, when you first arrive at the hotel, he's fairly aloof. He'll be polite, of course; he has no reason not to be (especially while lowkey still trying to win over his daughter), but will hold himself distant.

-Despite this, he admits you're kinda cute....

-You don't see him often, which doesn't help with his distance — he isn't used to being around so many people, and while he's pretty charismatic and extroverted, he's also still depressed and has a habit of self-isolating when he's going through it (which is often). He only really comes out for his daughter's sake.

-To get to know him faster than his changing perspective and mental challenges would otherwise allow, you could: one, approach him directly! Be friendly, open, and interested in his hobbies. This only works if you do the same for the others, though. If you don't, he might see your advances as manipulation. Two, you could develop a relationship with Charlie. Support her, believe in her cause, and have her back. He'll see you helping his daughter and will want to understand you further. Three, you could talk about ducks. That'll get him. He'll approach you eventually and strike up a conversation.

-If you don't do any of these things, that's fine; he'll just get to know you at the same pace that he gets to know the others. He'll slowly open up to the idea that not all sinners are violent psychopaths, become more comfortable with the rest of the crew, and realize how well he connects with you over a period of several months.

- Lucifer catches feelings pretty fast once you start hanging out for real. He's enamored with you: not only are you cute as fuck, but his daughter loves you, and you're the nicest sinner he's ever met (while kindest of the damned is not a hard-earned title, it's one he appreciates nonetheless).

-Once he realizes he's caught feelings, he'll ask Charlie for permission to ask you out. He doesn't want to pursue you if she isn't comfortable with it; she's already got familial issues, and he doesn't want a sudden shift in the family dynamic to hurt her further. If she says yes (which, if she likes you, she probably will), he'll ask you out to dinner.

-Prepare for the first date to be really awkward. Even if you've known him for a while at this point, he's incredibly nervous — he hasn't done anything romantic in a good while, and the last time he tried a relationship, it didn't work out. The whole time, he's fumbling over his words and cringing at himself, saying things he doesn't mean to while trying to be suave. When he escorts you back home after a very bumpy evening, he'll be downtrodden. He messed things up, just as he knew he would, and now you probably hate him; thoughts of self-loathing and regret swirl in his mind until you say you'll pay him back next time (he blinks up at you owlishly. "Next time? Like...another date?" You confirm his thoughts. "Oh--- oh! Yes, absolutely! I mean, no, no need to pay me back; of course not, but next time sounds good! How does this Saturday at 3 sound?").

-A couple of dates in, and he's feeling more confident, which reflects in his now far more self-assured demeanor and smooth language. He's a silver-tongued devil, after all, and he has to live up to his name.

-If all goes well, after about a month, he realizes he wants you to be his partner. He, once again, gets Charlie's permission and brainstorms with some of your friends about how to pop the question. Initially, he wants to impress you, pulling out the big guns and whisking you off your feet on the balcony of a lavish black-tie restaurant rented for just the two of you. After some discussion among your peers and deliberation of his own, though, he decides to do something else. He invites you to his tower, where he's prepared a handmade dinner with candles and soft music in the background. The food isn't particularly good (he can't cook very well and enlisted Vaggie and Nifty's help to make his dish edible), and the smoke from the candles stopped being pleasant about a half an hour in, but regardless, you both have a wonderful time, laughing about his lack of culinary skills and the excessively warm room. He asks if you would like to be his lover at the end of the evening, nervous but somehow also self-assured, and is overjoyed when you say yes. The next day, he parades you around the hotel, bragging that you said yes and talking about you to anyone who'd listen.

-If he wasn't big on physical affection before he got so lonely, he is now. While his hands might not constantly be on you, they've come close to that, especially if he's going through a hard time. Expect lots of hand-holding, arm-looping, cuddling, and kissing. He likes resting his head on yours (or your shoulder, depending on how tall you are) while he wraps his arms around you (or the reverse — he loves being cradled), you both sitting together on the couch. He also has a habit of rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of your hand while holding it.

-Smother his face with kisses, his cartoony heart-eyes expression will look a tenth lovestruck as he feels.

-You receive frequent duck memes, duck-themed gifts, and duck dissertations. He doesn't go around parading his interest, but if he trusts you, he can't keep himself from wanting to share everything about his hyperfixation. He's concerned about being annoying, though, and while you could try to curb his insecurity by telling him he's not, the best reassurance is to match his energy: talk about your own obsessions and be just as weird about them as he is. Not only does he feel better about himself, but he gets to talk with you for extended periods of time, your eyes alight and grin large. He'll probably try to get into whatever you talk about, wanting to connect with you further.

-He likes giving you gifts in general. Especially those that show you're in a relationship with him, like wearable apple or goat paraphernalia. While he does enjoy gift-giving for its own sake, he's insecure and doesn't want anyone to think they can cross him by taking you. If you give him anything duck-themed, handmade, or (heavens help him) both, especially without reason? He will melt. He loves it; he can feel the thought and effort you put in for him and feels known and loved.

- He’s kinda clingy; he likes being around you as often as possible and gets nervous if you're gone too long; if you leave for more than a day, he's like a koala when you return. It's comforting to him to know where you are, but it’s even more comforting when you tell him how much you love him before you go. His self-esteem isn't at a record low, but it certainly isn't high, and he has huge abandonment issues. Every once in a while, because of this, he'll grow distant; his thoughts of being undeserving or theories about how you're going to leave him become too much, and he semi-subconsciously pulls away to protect himself. Be patient with him during these times; show him how much you care and how you would never leave. Tell him you love him as he is. The first time you say so, he'll cry in your arms and snuggle you for hours.

-He'll become less clingy and insecure as your relationship goes on, but will always rather be with you than alone.

- He's majorly protective. He knows what it's like in Hell, and he knows that by dating you, he's put a target on your back, which only adds to your lack of safety. He will pull all the strings he has in order to keep you safe, whether that means accompanying you when you're out and about, actively keeping you away from overlords, or tracking your phone without your knowledge. He feels bad about some of his less savory means of protection, but not bad enough to stop. The thought of your death haunts him too much to let you be.

-Similarly, though he won't ever admit it, your redemption keeps him up at night. If you're redeemed and go up to heaven, he can't see you anymore — maybe ever. He knows you want to better yourself and tries his best to support you in your improvement, but sometimes his fear gets to be too much. In those moments, he has to spend some time alone before he tries to sabotage your progress in any way — any more than he already has.

-It's hard to tell what his love language is because he uses all of them. He wants to spend time with you (though he will give you a break if you need one; he understands needing to be alone, even if it makes him nervous), give you gifts, be touchy, do things for you, and tell you how wonderful he thinks you are. He wants you to know just how much he cares in every way he can and will be receptive to any form of love in return.

-He doesn't use as many pet names as some of the rest of the cast would, but he does use them! He likes calling you sweetheart and angel-eyes the most.

-Overall, he has a lot of insecurities and mental health problems to work through, but tries his best to be the best partner he can be for you. It's hard work to improve himself, but if you'll have him, he'll stay by your side forever.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #my writing #my hcs #lucifer/reader #reader is a sinner

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d3pressed-caffiene-addict · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel Ep 5&6 Oh My God (Major Spoilers)

I am having so many thoughts, this is just a brain dump

-LUCIFER. He’s so pathetic I love him

-Jeremy Jordan you fucking legend. I’m a big fan of a lot of his work and was excited to see him in this but I was slightly unsure if he was the right casting since I expected Lucifer to be more of a high and mighty/snobby figure, but with the way they characterised him HE IS PERFECT.

-“TAKE THAT DEPRESSION”

-The Lucifer vs Alastor rivalry is beautiful

-“Ha ha, fuck you.”

-Father figure Alastor

-HIS EARS GO BACK LIKE A CAT WHEN HES ANGRY I CANT

-MIMZY’S ARRIVAL. I know most of us know the lore about her and Alastor being developed as a couple before it was scrapped but I really like how they are in the show

-Even if it’s just crumbs I’m so excited to be getting snippets of Alastor’s lore. It’s wild to keep going back and forth between “aw he actually cares for and protects his friends” and “oh my god he’s a fucking psycho”

-Speaking of that the scene with Husk holy shit. Poor man looked terrified

-The confirmation that Alastor’s also stuck working for someone, it has to be Lilith surely. I know some people will call it predictable because a lot of theories are coming true but personally I think it’s from good worldbuilding/foreshadowing

-ALASTOR IN FULL DEMON FORM JUST ANNIHILATING EVERYONE and then he just goes “Ah that was fun, now back to it”

-I kinda like the parallel between Al and Mimzy & Angel and Cherri where they invite their friends to join them if they want to, even if neither of them take it up initially maybe we’ll see them join the hotel in the future?

-BABY CHARLIE

-I really expected Lucifer to be a dickhead and a shitty dad, but he seems to be an overall better guy than most people in hell

-CHERRI BOMB ARRIVAL! And she’s Aussie now fuck yeah represent

-I still love her and Angel’s friendship even if she is a terrible influence. Everyone’s got that friend who’s solution to a bad day is just self-destruction but they mean well at least

-DARREN CHRIS TOO, THE MUSICAL THEATRE/BROADWAY ACTOR CASTING IS STACKED

-Emily is so sweet I love her

-The Molly cameo is so sweet, I was waiting for her to appear somewhere but lowkey forgot she was in heaven. Honestly though how did she get there when the rest of her and Angel’s family got condemned for what they did together? Maybe she left the mob or something idk I just hope we get to meet her properly at some point

-Heaven’s real fucked up? Yeah not shocked

-VAGGIE?? FALLEN ANGEL REVEAL?? AND SHE WAS AN EXTERMINATOR???? I know most of us called it but holy shit I didn’t expect it to be confirmed this soon

-Adam is such a dick but he’s so much fun

-I love that Charlie was gonna start her court presentation with definitions like a high school essay

-“Consent is a good name for a sex club” the gentleman Husk truthers gonna have fun with this one

-Pentious hitting on Cherri is hilarious and totally not the same level of subtlety I flirt with when I’m drunk

-Hearing more and more about how Val treats Angel is so sad especially with how casually he talks about it since it’s just another day for him

-Him parenting drunk Nifty is beautiful

-“You wanna play with the kitty?”

-Valentino is my #1 enemy

-Seeing Angel stand up to him to protect his friends is making me feel feelings. Like he knows that he’s gonna be treated even worse for it but I think he’s reaching his tipping point and shits gonna go down soon

-Also I know there’s a popular theory that he’s gonna die soon and a lot of the theories are coming true so I am scared. I kind of don’t think this one’ll happen though since he’s the fan favourite and its just too soon to take that much of a risk. Plus Vivsie’s admitted he’s the best written character and it’d be such a waste of all that development

-More sweet moments between him and Husk, they’ve gotten me so invested in this ship so fast

-The fact that most of heaven didn’t know about the extermination?? Wild

-Idk how I feel about the timeskip between Ep 4&5, they’re only a month away from the extermination now. Yes it’s making the stakes feel higher but I do wish we’d been able to see more of that time for the relationship development, all the characters seem much closer than before and we’ve only seen bits of how they got there

-I really wish they’d greenlit more than 8 episodes to pace things a little better but I’m glad we have season 2 confirmed

-That last minute ‘reveal Vaggie’s past to Charlie, boot them out of heaven and then cut to credits before she can react’ is gonna torture me until next week

-I don’t disagree with past criticism that Vivzie’s female characters can feel a bit underwritten but I think it’s getting better

-“We’re coming to the hotel first” plus all the theories that someone’s gonna die are fucking stressing me out man

Anyway hope you enjoy the brain dump, this show has once again consumed my thoughts

#Hazbin hotel #vivziepop #helluva boss #Charlie Morningstar #angel dust #vaggie hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #husk hazbin hotel #nifty hazbin hotel #sir pentious #hazbin hotel mimzy #cherri bomb #huskerdust

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alastorsfuckassbob · 3 months

Text

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #im knawing at the bars of my encloser #Me writing Al in the present challenge: IMPOSSIBLE #this is so short im sorry #also was not expecting many people to read these so thank you guys i love you #you best believe the shitty song fic titles are coming back next chapter #youre meeting him and having a big ol fight next chapter i just dont want yall to be happy ig

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phenphoenix · 1 month

Note

Kinda wanna write the swap au meeting their og selves I think that’d be fun

Absolutely, I'll even plant some seeds for you that I've already got

Anthony and Angel Dust - Both see each other as the worst version of themselves. Yet deep down, don't hold too much resentment because they are the same person, just different circumstances.

Husker and Husk - Husk is a bit weirded out at first but warms up to husker cause he reminds him of when he was younger and happier. Husker is just curious where husks shirt went-

Niff and Nifty - Niff lowkey kinda wishes she was as crazy as Nifty. Maybe she wouldn't be so depressed- just blissfully insane. Nifty is confused at seeing another her and thinks she has a long-lost twin.

Swap!Vaggie and Vaggie - Vaggie is uncomfortable with seeing her alternate self, just making her more grateful it was charlie who found her. Swap!Vaggie puts on a front to be as over the top as possible because she's lowkey having a crisis and just feels even worse.

Charlotte and Charlie - Charlie is over the moon to meet her alternate self. Charlotte, not so much. She sees Charlie as a naive little puppy. But she admires her resilience and how even with all of hell seeing her as a joke, she keeps doing what she believes in.

Lady Cherri and Cherri bomb - They get along great. Both are still basically the same person, and if anything, Cherri respects the hell out of Lady cherri for being born in the late 1800s and still achieving what she has. While Lady Cherri loves the fact that her alternate self was able to be as free as she was 100 years in the future.

Pentious and Sir pentious - Again, they get along great. Both are goofy middle-aged men who like to destroy things and be eeeeeeevil. But really have a good heart and just want to prove themselves in the end.

Swap!Vess and The vees - Not much to say other than they are all still toxic besties. Lotta passive aggressive remarks lmao

Swap!Sera and Sera - very much a "if my cards were different, I understand I would have gone down your path," but with both thinking they are the better one.

Swap!Emily and Emily - Emily doesn't even want to look at her alternate self. While Swap!Emily sees her alternate self as a naive fool who needs to take more of a stand. (But is faithful that she will)

Swap!Adam and Adam - Both look at each other and go "Hah what a loser"

Swap!Lute and Lute - Lute is disappointed that her Alternate self seems so,,,boring. But still respects her for her high rank in Hevan. Swap!Lute thinks Lute could use a chill pill...and maybe some therapy.

(Since Lillith and Lucifer are still big question marks within cannon and this AU, I'll leave them out for now)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel swap au #the hart hotel

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expectopatronum81 · 7 months

Text

Unpopular opinion but......

Am I the only one who misses the og marauders? The marauders fandom isn't even about the marauders now, 99% of their canon personality traits hv been replaced with cliqued behaviour. For some reason there's a massive obsession with their sexuality and I just don't get it? Lyk can't u have a character with any sexual orientation with personality traits outside it anymore? Does there really need to be a complete erasure of their most defining traits? I just wish we could get the actual marauders era characters back

James Potter: Pureblood, rich, intelligent, arrogant, a bully, but extremely loyal; took Sirius in and turned into an animagus for his werewolf bestie when the whole world would have shunned him; he could have led a life of utmost comfort but chose to risk his life and fight for those he loved in a war that didn't even concern him personally. His last words were asking his wife and child to escape while he tried to hold voldy off without a wand

Sirius Black: Haughty, a bully, extremely good looking, cool, rich, blood traitor by 16, comes from a family of literal death eaters, very intelligent, loyal, will do anything for those he loves( especially james and later Harry), thick as hell (my boy really survived in a depression prison for 12yrs, tht too after all the horror he'd seen before that), dark, very traumatized and broken

Remus Lupin: Gentle (yup u read that right), kind, mischievous (ppl really overlook this), very insecure, let james and Sirius bully Snape coz he was too thankful for their acceptance and affection to tell them off, considered himself undeserving of love, his self loathing prevents him from being a responsible adult/ parent for Harry, lowkey manipulative. Very compassionate and empathetic even after everything he's been thru tho

Peter Pettigrew: Considered slow and stupid, insecure, tags along with the others for protection, but obviously cunning and manipulative, a disgusting rat tho

Regulus Black: Teenage Reggie worshipped death eaters, he had newspaper clippings of them on his wall, completely believed in those racist ideologies until he realised what the reality of being a death eater was. He tried to bring voldy down but there's no evidence of him completely changing his beliefs about everything else like muggle borns, muggles, werewolves etc. Very cunning and intelligent tho, he discovered voldemort's secret before Dumbledore did. Liked kreacher but kreacher was also brainwashed with pureblood ideology, so I ll only give him half the credit. Bravely sacrificed his life in the end, but he still chose to protect his racist family.

Lily Evans: muggleborn, good at portions, described as popular and vivacious, pretty, the favourite sibling, isn't afraid of standing up to ppl (tht smirk in swm tho?), very brave, and most importantly (ppl really choose to forget this nowadays) a mother who stood in front of her baby boy in hopes of saving him from the darkest wizard alive even tho she herself was only 21 at the time, tht too right after losing her husband. Tho I'd still say that lily is a badly written character

It's fun to explore characters but not one of these core characteristics r even present. They're turned into one dimensional social justice warriors who r always right in everything they do

Now I get it, ppl want them to fit with current day ideals, but y not just create different/new characters then? What's the point of holding on to that nostalgia if most of their character isn't even there anymore? Where's all the toxicity coming from? And anyone who doesn't agree is homophobic and whatever other -phobic u choose to employ in the most irrelevant context ever. It's all so stupid smh🙄

#harry potter #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #regulus black #lily evens #marauders era #mauraders #anti fanon #anti marauders #pro james potter #pro sirius black #pro remus lupin #pro lily evans #pro regulus black #pro sirius

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bellysoupset · 13 days

Note

i’d actually requested this a while ago, and iirc it didn’t really fit with the timeline back then? when luke and vince weren’t talking.

i’d asked for a fic where lucas and vin watch leo take care of jon during a vertigo episode. like maybe they’re at jon and leo’s place and leo isn’t back from work yet when jonah gets hit with an episode. and both of them are lowkey freaking out. and leo comes in and takes over effortlessly and manages to calm jonah down so much better than either of them did

but if you’d not written this for some other reason then please feel free to ignore it! 🍄

This is probably my favorite fic so far. Maybe. Possibly. It's also long.

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

“Hey, Monacelli,” Vince raised his head and saw Max tapping lightly on the half open door of his classroom. It was halfway through the day and Vince’s classes were already over. From what he had glanced at the overall teachers’ schedule, Daniels still had two more classes to teach, but Vince could go home… But that just seemed a little depressive.

His parents were busy and his sisters were in class, so going home just meant being alone and he’d much rather stay in school and finish going over the kids’ papers.

“Yeah?” Vince lowered his red pen and the blonde man pointed over his shoulder, to the sunny patio behind him.

“Your boyfriend’s here,” Max said in a smug tone and Vince’s blood immediately boiled over.

He could count in one hand the amount of transphobic shit he had witnessed with Wendy, but Vince wasn’t stupid. He was aware Doveport was fairly conservative and had been bracing for a bigoted comment for a while now.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, you asshole, I have a girlfriend,” he said sharply, dropping the pen immediately and Max jumped back, startled.

“Uhm, okay, sorry for assuming? But there’s some guy in the parking lot waiting for you,” he shrugged, seeming offended, “geez,” the blonde turned around with an exasperated eye roll and power walked away, leaving a befuddled Vince behind.

Vin grimaced, realizing he had assumed the worst for absolutely no reason and making a mental note to apologize to the other teacher, before the reality of some dude caught up with him. Weird, but a good surprise, Vince thought, packing up his bag and locking up his classroom.

He fully expected to find Luke in the parking lot and was not wrong, the guy was sitting on the hood of his green jeep, sunglasses on and chuckling about something. What Vince did not expect was to see Jon standing right next to him, also wearing sunglasses and a jacket, smiling.

Hell must have frozen over, Vince thought with a smirk, watching the two laugh. It wasn’t rare to see Jonah and Lucas laughing together, even if the two wanted everyone to think they hated each other, but today they looked particularly relaxed.

“What is going on…?” Vince asked, opening a huge smile of his own when Luke promptly jumped from the hood of the car in order to tackle him into a hug. He squeezed the guy back, half hugging Luke with one arm as they pulled apart, in order to look at Jonah, “Jon?”

“Hi,” Jonah gave him a small wave, “so uhm- Wendy showed me your birthday gift to her and uh- I wanted - I was wondering-”

It was so weird to watch Jon fumble with his words. Vince frowned, confused, then looked at Luke for an explanation. His best friend was blushing on Jon’s behalf, with a smile so gigantic Vince could see his molars.

“Oh my god, Jonah!” He exclaimed after a minute, “he wants to buy Leo a ring.”

It took Vince a second, but then he let go of Lucas, all but yelling “YOU’RE GONNA PROPOSE TO LEO!?” and rushing to pull Jon into a hug.

The other man stiffened, but he had no chance to fight Vince off, nor did he even want to and he melted into the hug for a minute, muffling a chuckle and mumbling a little sheepish “yeah… And I wanted your jewelry recommendation. I really liked Wendy’s birthday present and I think Leo would have my head if I got him a Cartier.”

“And he wants our help to pick,” Lucas completed the unspoken truth and Jonah glared at him, turning a shade darker with a blush.

“Shut up-”

“Yeah! YEah, of course, of course!” Vince interrupted the bickering, all but bouncing on his feet, his voice breaking and going up a note, “Leo’s going to explode with happiness-”

It took Vin a moment to calm down and then yet another moment as they figured out the logistics of it all. Vince still had his motorcycle, so they decided he should just stick with it and drive ahead of them, Luke and Jon following in the jeep.

The local jewelry shop where Vince had bought Wendy’s birthday was also owned by Italians. The old owner was a friend of Vin’s mom and he lit up as the three men walked into his store.

“Back for more so soon, Vicenzo?” he asked in a thick italian accent, “I told you, there’s no coming back from the first diamond you get her.”

“No,” Vince shook his head, planting his hands on Jonah’s shoulders and shaking him like a rattle toy, “today I’m here just as a helper. My friend wants to buy his man a ring.”

“Hi, I’m Jonah,” Jonah tried to shrug Vince off, offering his hand to the owner.

“Niccolo Fanucci, it’s a pleasure.”

Luke was already inspecting the rings on display, crouching down to get a better look at them, “Leo wouldn’t want anything too flashy,” he said, tunnel vision fully on, “so what are you thinking? Yellow, silver? Tungsten?”

Jonah wrinkled his nose, “tungsten?” he scoffed, “I’m not buying my fiance a tungsten ring.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Vince frowned, completely out of his depth. Buying Wendy her birthday gift had taken him hours and he still wasn’t convinced he had done a good job. Probably had, Jonah wouldn’t be there if he didn’t think the quality and design were good enough.

“Tungsten is extremely durable, almost impossible to scratch-” Luke shrugged and Jonah glared at him.

“And cheap,” he said sharply, “I want a real ring for Leo.”

“How real?” Vince raised his eyebrows, noticing Niccolo — the owner — visibly perk up as it became clear Jon was down for purchasing the whole store if needed.

“The best. I want a diamond. Or a bunch,” Jonah leaned over the display, as Niccolo hurried to get his best stuff out of the safe, as well as his design magazines.

“You want personalized, son?” the man asked and Jon shook his head.

“No time, I want to propose before his birthday,” he explained, “and that’s next month.”

“We could design something in time,” the man shrugged, opening the bunch of magazines, “how’s this boy of yours? Flashy? Shy?”

“Shy,” Luke got up from his crouched down position, “Leo would rather die than walk around with a huge sparkly ring, Jon, you know that.”

Jonah pouted, “but I want it to be a wedding ring,” he stressed, “I want everyone to know he’s married from across the court.”

“Lawyer?” Niccolo raised an eyebrow, shutting his magazine and throwing it to the side, opening a much older one, “is he traditional?”

“More or less…” Jonah shook his head, while Vince interrupted him, nodding.

“Yes,” he flicked at Jon’s ear, “he’s shy and not flashy at all. He also doesn’t wear jewelry, so it has to be comfy.”

“It has to be yellow,” Jon didn’t argue with Vince, despite grimacing.

Luke frowned, “he’s blonde and super pasty, white gold would look prettier-”

“I want yellow gold, I want it to be clear it’s a wedding band.”

“Don’t be silly,” Niccolo shook his head, “it can be white gold or platinum and still look like a wedding band.”

“He’s in a straight dominated field where men wear rings, if he has a silver band people will assume it's just some ring,” Jonah groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, “this is pretty.”

“Absolutely not,” Vince and Luke chorused, looking at the yellow band Jon was pointing at, with three baguette diamonds in the peak.

“Alright, so yellow gold,” Niccolo flipped through the pages, “and not flashy, but flashy enough people know.”

“It has to be something he likes,” Jonah sighed, studying the rings, “he’s gonna wear it until he dies, so.”

Luke let out a snort, “or not,” he mumbled, only to immediately recoil and jump back as Jon turned to face him like a snake, “because he might get a new one!” he exclaimed, hands raised as if his friend was gonna hit him, “relax!”

“Shut up, you don’t know Leo enough. What do you think, Vin?” Jonah turned away from Luke and Vince grinned, noticing the other man pout behind Jon.

“I think I agree with you about the yellow,” he shrugged, “but the diamonds are a bit much, man. Let’s focus on how thick it is, how about?”

Jonah didn’t know it could take so long to pick a ring. He had expected it would take more than a couple of minutes, after all he was a perfectionist and not willing to compromise in this matter, but at every little thing he said, Luke and Vince had twenty different arguments.

Finally, after about two hours of back and forth, they settled on a yellow gold ring, with a brushed finish instead of smooth polish and with a baguette small diamond sitting in the middle of it.

“Now you need to pick the thickness,” Niccolo said, “wait a minute while I get my kit. Sit around, Vincenzo knows where the coffee is. Have a torrone.”

Jonah snorted quietly to himself, he had never been to a jewelry shop that offered a torrone or any type of sticky, sweet food. But then again he had never been in a locally owned shop.

He walked outside, hearing as Vince and Luke bickered over the gem cut — Vince still thought the pear one was prettier, Luke was team no gem and partial to some design fussiness on the band — and then pressed his forehead to the brick wall outside the store and picked out his phone.

There wasn’t a text from Leo, they had last spoken that morning, when Jonah had lied through his teeth that he had a surgery to watch that evening and so they couldn’t have lunch together.

Jonah rolled his shoulders, letting out a breath. He felt stiff all over from stress, the huge weight of picking something that could make or break his proposal making him sweat. He felt nauseous too, but in all truth he had been feeling sick to his stomach with nerves ever since Leo got his promotion and Jon made up his mind about proposing.

That had always been his plan, after all. Wait until his boyfriend got the promotion that would put them on equal pay, so Leo wouldn’t have a breakdown over wedding prices or feeling like he was being given anything when Jackie inevitably tried to hijack the bill…

“You okay?” Luke planted a hand on his elbow.

Lucas was almost levitating with how happy he was. It was like he was the one getting married, the dude simply didn’t seem able to stop smiling, even now looking a little concerned and holding a paper cup of coffee.

“Yeah,” Jonah wiped the sweat off and straightened up, “Niccolo is back?”

“Yep, we’re just waiting for you,” Luke chugged the rest of the coffee that his hyper ass definitely didn’t need and squeezed Jon’s bicep in a cuteness aggression fit, shoving him further inside the store.

The old owner was holding a large hoop, with a bunch of silver rings on it. Upon Jonah arriving, he opened the hoop, so he could remove the rings one by one, “you said he’s traditional and shy, but not so traditional —” the man said, barely looking up, with that certainty of someone who’s been doing their job their entire life, “and you’ll have a diamond on the band, so you need some thickness, especially if you don’t want the bling to stand out that much…”

He carefully pushed two bands towards Jon, “try these on and tell me what you think, son.”

Jonah went to grab it, only for his hand to completely miss it. He blinked a couple times, feeling Vince grab him by the elbow.

“Jon, hey- You wanna sit down?”

“No, I’m fine,” Jon shook his head, swallowing down the heightened nausea and grabbing the ring on the left. It was too large on his hand, he had thinner pianist fingers, but the important part was the width, “looks a bit bulky… What size is the rock again?”

Niccolo grabbed a tiny piece of sticker paper and measured, cutting it out and then planting the paper in the middle of the band, “this size.”

“Yeah, no…” Jon shook his head, “not this one.”

“That’s a 5.5mm, try the 4.5mm one,” Niccolo took the ring back, once again doing the paper trick, “that’s a more old fashioned groom width.”

“I think it looks better,” Luke said, as if someone asked him, poking his head in. Jonah nodded, suddenly feeling too woozy. He darted out a hand to grab on something… Anything… Then landed on Vince’s forearm and squeezed.

“That’s the one,” Jon determined, dead set on getting the bloody ring before vertigo took him out, “uhm- Luke, can you…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can,” Lucas stepped in front of him, smiling to the confused old man, “I’m buying.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Jon overheard Niccolo say, but there was a ringing in his ears starting to drown everything out. He squeezed Vince’s arm, “help me outside…”

Vince helped him the couple of steps it took for them to get to the door, then he wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Jon almost off his feet, dragging him to a bus stop bench.

Jonah crumpled, spreading his legs and grabbing on the plastic of the bench with all his force, breathing through his mouth, “Fuck,” he sighed, cold sweat spreading down his back, “of all days…”

“I’m sorry, man,” Vince squeezed his nape, “help me here, what do I do?”

“No-nothing…” Jonah leaned forward even more, as his stomach rolled, the world turning into a complete blur. He let out a whimper, feeling like he was falling forward, except the ground never met his face, he just kept falling, falling-

“Should he be lying down!?” Vince’s voice broke through the fog, “I don’t know what to do, you’re the one who’s good with sick people!”

“Not sick like this!” Luke’s voice answered and Jonah groaned, blindly trying to grab at Luke and shut him up.

“Ssssstop-” Jonah slurred, realizing his mouth felt super sticky and his pants humid. Oh no. Had he wet himself?

Mortification caused Jon to open his eyes, only to realize the wet spot was just the fact he had puked the McBacon he had had with Luke on their way to Doveport all over the ground and his pants.

The sight of the chunky brown mess caused his stomach to flip again and Jonah heaved once more, the movement ruining the sliver of balance he had regained and sending the world spinning on its axis once more.

“ — My place?” Vince, his voice much closer now, as if he was talking in his ear. Jon let his head roll towards the sound and his cheek met something soft- Vince’s thigh? Stomach?

“I guess!?” Lucas, sounding more than a little nervous, “should we call Leo? Wendy? Hell, your mom?!”

Jon groaned. He wanted none of these people, except maybe Wendy. He desperately wanted Leo’s comfort and the fact his boyfriend wouldn’t be freaking out like the two idiots, but that would mean telling Leo what he was doing in fucking Doveport and-

“Noo,” he slurred, his voice muffled by something, probably Vince’s shirt, “no k- no calling-” his stomach was done with his words and Jonah coughed again, as liquid rushed up his throat and world tilted completely to the left, then right-

“I’m calling Leo,” Lucas, all decisive, “there’s no way this is normal, right? I’m calling him.”

“The fuck will Leo do if this isn’t?” Vince, sounding far away now. Jonah tried to cling to his voice and make himself responsive, but he just… Couldn’t. When he tried to open his eyes again, he realized he was in a completely different place.

A pink room?

The black spots clumped in front of his eyes and Jonah let out a whimper, scared and humiliated, and then darkness swallowed him up.

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

“Where is he?” Leo’s heart was hammering in his ears. He didn’t suppose anything was scarier than hearing the person you loved the most was completely down for the count, hours away.

Luke’s call had come at the very end of his day, just as he was packing up to go home. Leo had never made it home, he picked it up on the elevator and felt his heart plummet down to his stomach.

During the four hours of drive he had plenty of time to think, but had actually done none of that. His head was spinning, nothing made sense, but he didn’t actually give a shit about puzzling things together until he got a look on Jon, because from the way Luke described it, all panicked, it sounded like his worst case yet.

In fucking Doveport.

He hadn’t been to Vince’s new place yet and for a second Leo felt completely out of place, standing outside of the small one bedroom apartment. Then Luke stepped out of the bedroom, the front of his shirt with a huge wet spot on it and looking visibly worried and Leo’s confusion melted straight into worry.

“He’s here, but he’s really out of it,” Luke leaned on the doorway as Leo walked past him, storming into Vince’s bedroom.

Jonah was a sight to behold. His six foot tall boyfriend was curled up on his side, almost in a fetal position and looking terribly tiny.

“God, Jon…” Leo walked closer, sitting on the bed and touching the other man’s naked shoulder. Luke and Vince had stripped him down to just his boxers, but he had no fever, in fact he felt cold and clammy to the touch, “why did you dumbasses remove his clothes?”

“Uhm- He kinda, hurled all over ‘em?” Vince scratched at his cheeks, seeming embarrassed, “we didn’t know what to do, once we got them off every time we tried to move him to get him dressed he just seemed to get worse…”

“Great, that’s just fucking great,” Leo scoffed, scooting closer and stroking Jon’s cheek, pushing his tight curls back, “did you get any water in him? When did-”

“It was around 4 PM,” Luke answered, while Vince shook his head to the previous question.

Leo glanced at his watch. 9:26 PM. Amazing.

“Get me some water, the meds that are in my car, in the glovebox, and a straw. And an empty bowl. And a big sweater, he’s fucking freezing,” he glared at the two, before returning his gaze back to Jon, stroking his head again, “Jonah…” he whispered, leaning in, “angel, I need you to wake up.”

His boyfriend was completely out. His breath smelled sweet, causing Leo’s nose to wrinkle, and he was shivering violently. Leo smoothed a hand down his naked back, moving even closer and feeling Jonah’s steady heartbeat.

“Hey, Jon,” he pressed his hand in, instead of shaking him, “baby, wake up.”

It took another minute of gentle pushing and calling until Jon’s eyes slipped open. He was out of it and his eyes rolled back, taking another thirty seconds to fully focus on Leo.

“Oh no,” he groaned, curling up more, “not you.”

“Yeah, me,” Leo rolled his eyes, pushing the flash of hurt he felt at Jonah’s words away and grabbing the items Luke had planted on Vince’s bedside table, “I need you to drink some water, okay?”

“Won’t stay down…” Jonah whispered, closing his eyes again, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as if he was in pain, “Leo, I don’t feel well…”

“I know, angel, I know,” Leo’s heart squeezed in sympathy and he leaned in, planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s brow, “trust me here, okay?” he squeezed Jon’s arm, before turning slightly around in order to dissolve the little pink pill that was supposed to help with the vertigo episodes in the glass of water.

Technically speaking, Leo was aware he shouldn’t do this. Wendy had scolded him once about it… But so far it worked like a charm every time and Leo was not about to listen to Wendy when the matter was Jon.

“Okay, just a tiny sip,” he held the straw between his fingers, pushing it in Jonah’s mouth and grabbing the man’s pillow in order to tilt his body up just enough he could swallow without choking, “just one, baby.”

It took some prodding, but eventually Jonah took what Leo counted as a fourth of the water. He glanced at his watch again. 09:41 PM.

“Try to keep this down and we’ll try the rest in a bit,” Leo whispered, draping Vince’s older sweater around Jonah’s naked shoulders and continuing to pet his hair.

Luke entered the room, every bit like a dog with his tail between his legs, “is he okay…?”

“He will be,” Leo rolled his tense shoulders, then turned his head until his jaw clicked, holding all the tension on his mouth, “what the fuck is he doing in Doveport?”

Luke and Vince exchanged a look, then they both shrugged.

Leo squinted at them, “well?”

“I called him,” Vince said, his whole face turning red, “I called them both, I’m sorry, I just- I was having a bit of a breakdown over Wendy and Jonah just came over to say I’m stupid and-”

“And he brought Luke?” Leo didn’t buy this for a second, but most importantly, the fact Vince was lying to his face only made him feel more furious, “okay.”

“He did! Because he knows I’m the only one who can get through Vince!” Luke sounded so smug about the lie, Leo stared at him, unimpressed. He let his eyes drift away from the dark haired men, looking around the room.

Jonah’s clothes were folded on top of Vince’s little office table, alongside other papers and all sorts of school items, like stickers and scissors. One of Vin’s bedroom walls was painted dusty pink.

“You called Jonah first?” Leo asked, feeling his blood turn to ice in his veins, as Vince nodded enthusiastically.

“I mean, it was about Wendy,” he said, as if that explained everything. Leo nodded, looking over his shoulder. Outside the window he could see Luke’s green jeep parked all crooked in front of the place.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed through his teeth, turning mechanically and grabbing the glass of water, “Jon, let’s try another sip, baby.”

It took nearly one hour to have Jon fully draining the glass and by then Leo was in full automatic pilot. If he thought too much about the lies, then his thoughts turned a dark, spiraling path that he didn’t enjoy and he didn’t want to indulge.

Because lies or no lies, he knew Jonah would never do any of the things his brain kept sprouting up. Break up with him. Cheat.

“I’m fine,” Leo overheard Luke say across the house, as Vince ordered all of them food from the living couch, “no, Bell, I’m really fine, I promise. I’m with Vin, Leo and Jon.”

Leo gulped down the knot in his throat and glanced down, to Jonah napping near his thigh, still all curled up. At least now he had quit shivering violently and none of the medicine had made it back up, so it was well into his bloodstream.

They were out of the woods, as soon as Jon woke up he’d feed him another round of meds and then-

“Leo?” Jonah whispered, curling up even more and pressing his forehead to the blonde’s knee, “Leo?”

“Hey,” Leo leaned in, folding in half and forcing his voice past the lump in his throat, “I’m here.”

“Uhm,” Jon let out a little pleased noise, then opened his eyes, “I wanna go home.”

“In a little bit,” Leo kissed his cheek, squeezing his arm, “let’s try sitting up first, okay? It’s a long trip, you really don’t wanna be in the car in case you’re not feeling your best-”

“Leo,” Jonah frowned at him, pushing himself up and letting out a moan, getting a gray cast as he paled, “what’s wrong?”

“My boyfriend is sick?” Leo rolled his eyes, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice, “how’s sitting up?”

“It’s fine,” Jonah raised a shaky hand to his face, rubbing the sleep off his eyes, “I wanna go home.”

“We’re leaving in a bit,” Leo said more firmly, pushing back and collecting his dignity. He felt terrible, equal parts worried and furious and intrigued and terrified – “drink some water, will you?”

Jonah obeyed, frowning, but he was right. He really was as fine as he was going to get so soon, even if weak and shaky, clearly nauseous still.

Leo managed to keep him down for another one hour and a half, but by the time midnight rolled on — Vince flipping through the TV channels clearly trying to be a decent host, while Lucas had passed out on the floor next to the couch, his head tipped back as he snored —, Jonah glared at him and said in a firm voice, “I wanna sleep in my bed. Can we please go home?”

Leo nodded, rubbing his eyes and trying to feel a little less sleepy himself. He wasn’t so sure he could drive, but he was feeling too proud to admit to that.

“Are you sure?” Vince yawned, stumbling up as he saw Leo helping Jonah put on his clothes – they had already been washed and dried long before, “you can stay the night, guys, take my bed and I’ll take the couch and-”

“No, we’re leaving,” Jonah shook his head, holding tightly on the wall to stay upright, “thank you, for everything, but no.”

Vin didn’t look one bit pleased, “this is a horrible idea, it's super late... Leo tell him it’s a horrible idea-”

“We’re going,” Leo couldn’t feel a shred of sympathy for Vince. He was trying, but failing miserably. Now that Jonah was up and stubborn as ever, concern was quickly getting replaced with simple, unmitigated fury.

“Please call me when you get there,” Vince hung at the door, “please? I’m gonna be up.”

“We’ll call,” Jonah agreed, stumbling to Leo’s car and bracing against it, breathing through his mouth. For a split second Leo considered staying, ignoring Jon’s stubbornness and his own pride and the anger and fear bubbling at the pit of his stomach and just stay and think all of this through in the morning-

“Goodnight guys,” Vince said in a small voice and Jonah waved, opening a little secret smile to the guy and Leo’s second thoughts burst like a bubble.

They needed to head home and only then he’d be able to think things through clearly.

Leo’s fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as they hit the road, Jon curling up against the window and watching the cars zoom past them. Headlights turning into lines of yellow and white and red.

“Why were you there?” Leo asked, one hour into the trip, when he could no longer hold it in. He turned up the heater, just a bit, noticing Jon was trembling again.

His boyfriend shrugged, but didn’t say anything, and Leo squeezed the steering wheel with a bit more force.

“Jonah,” he said, his voice dropping, “I need you to talk with me, because I’m freaking out-”

“I can’t tell you,” Jonah’s voice was shot, “I can’t, okay? You just have to trust me-”

“You already lied to me today, so cut the crap and tell me what were you doing in Doveport and not in surgery like you said-”

“Vince told you!” Jon exclaimed and Leo looked away from the road, his eyes wide in complete shock and anger.

“You mean the lie he told me!? Do you think I’m stupid?!” Leo forced himself to look ahead, “Vince cannot lie to save his life and you want me-”

“It wasn’t a-”

“He called you first, but it was Luke’s jeep outside, not your car. In his story, you picked up Luke,” Leo hissed, starting to see red, “you lied to my face this morning, Jonah, so this was not some random, panicked call you got in the middle of your day. This was premeditated and-”

“Can’t you just please trust me?” Jonah glared at him, “Leo, what reason do you have not to trust me-”

“The fact that you’re LYING!?” Leo exclaimed, pulling the car to the dust shoulder and causing Jon to let out a whine at the sudden motion. He couldn’t drive like this, barely paying the road any attention.

Jon was breathing through the dizziness when Leo turned to him, panting as he tried to keep his emotions at bay, “Jon, just be honest with me-”

“Please, please just drop it. It’s nothing bad-”

“Are you cheating on me?” Leo said without thinking and felt pathetic as he heard the words said out loud. He knew this wasn’t it, he knew it deep in his bones that whatever Jonah did, it would never be that.

It didn’t stop the intrusive thought from continuously sprouting up.

Jonah’s head snapped and he glared at Leo, all vulnerability slipping away for a second and being replaced with anger, “oh my god, listen to yourself, Leo! You really think, I- God, you’re being fucking- You’re ruining everything,” he pushed the passenger door open and pushed himself out, causing Leo to jump out of the car as well.

“I don’t know what to think! You’ve been acting weird for days and now you’re lying to me and your little buddies are all helping in the lie and I’m here, fucking nursing you-”

“I DIDN’T FUCKING ASK YOU TO COME!” Jon yelled, hitting the car with a hand and Leo jumped at the explosion, his eyes wide and his heart speeding up, only to suddenly stop as Jonah’s shoulders shook and he folded in, grabbing on the top of the car with both hands and letting his head hang.

Leo took a second, trying to make any sense of the scene in front of him, but then his body was moving before his mind caught up. Grabbing Jon by the shoulder, feeling his whole frame shake with sobs.

“Jon- Shit, shit, shit, Jonah I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Leo mumbled frantically, his thoughts clearing up due to the searing certainty he had just messed up severely, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby, shit-” he cupped Jonah’s face and tried to wipe away the tears, only for the other man to shove his hands away.

“Stop- Stop fucking t-touching me-” Jonah groaned, stumbling and falling sit on the passenger side, his legs still out of the car, covering his face with his hands as he continued to cry, “I can’t be-believe you think I- I would never- I-”

“No, I know, I know,” Leo sunk to his knees, mind reeling as he ignored Jon’s plea to stop touching him and grabbed his boyfriend’s wrist, “Jon, I’m so sorry, I’m an ass, I know you wouldn’t-”

Jonah’s whole frame shook with a sob and he angrily shoved Leo back, but in his movement the blonde got a decent look at his face and his heart broke in a billion pieces. Jonah looked genuinely hurt, tears streaming down his face and clinging to his chin, green eyes all red due to the crying-

“I’m so sorry,” Leo leaned in, pressing his forehead to Jonah’s and cupping his face, “baby, please stop crying-”

“I- I was-was,” Jonah pulled back, angrily wiping the tears and Leo let out a whine at the loss of contact.

“I don’t wanna know,” he cut him off, “you’ll tell me later, a- another day,” Leo forced himself to say, “it’s fine, I don’t wanna-”

“I was buying your fucking proposal ring,” Jonah spat, glaring at him, his voice raspy, “and now you ruined it.”

Leo’s ears rang and he fell back on his ass in the humid grass, feeling like suddenly he was the one who had vertigo. He opened and closed his mouth, then felt tears springing up, “my proposal ring?” the question didn’t even sound like his voice.

Jonah scoffed, nodding, “yeah. You jackass, your proposal ring. Happy now? I was gonna propose at your birthday and they were just helping me and now you fucking ruined it and-”

“Yes,” Leo answered, without thinking and causing Jon’s mouth to snap shut, then open again, then shut in a tight line.

“No,” he glared at the blonde, “I’m not-”

“I’ll ask then,” Leo rolled his eyes, moving forward so he was resting on just one knee in front of the car door, “you can’t un-propose, you bought me a ring, I- I’ll ask. Are you gonna say no?”

Jonah frowned, clearly stuck between the rock and the sword, because he really didn’t want to propose on the side of the road, with his head throbbing from crying and puking, still wanting to strangle Leo and feeling wounded as fuck- With the ring on the pocket of his jacket… But there was simply no world or reality where he said no to Leo asking him to marry him.

“You can’t steal my proposal,” Jonah scoffed, grabbing the box in his pocket and grossly sniffling, wiping the tears with the back of his hand, “you’re such a dick,” he opened the box.

“You’re a romantic,” Leo grinned, then chuckled, “I can’t see the ring, it’s too dark.”

“SEE!” Jonah exclaimed, angry, “it’s a horrible proposal and you’re the one who ruined-” he never quite finished the complaint, as Leo leaped and kissed him, pushing Jon flat on his back inside the car.

“I don’t need to see the ring,” Leo groaned, kissing him again and again, "the answer is always yes, Jon. Ring, no ring, it's always yes.”

#mywriting #sickfic #emeto #emetophilia #jonah banks #angst #fluff #crying #this fic is a lot #🍄 anon

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st4rb3rries · 10 months

Text

STAN MARSH and KYLE BROFLOVSKI friendship hc's!! ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

pairings; stan and kyle x fem!reader (all aged up 18+)

summary; goofy friendship head cannons!!

warnings; cussing, underage drinking

a/n; my first time writing so lmk if theres any mistakes

YOUR FRIEND GROUP WITH THEM

you guys try to start a band. stan plays the electric guitar and you play the drums. but kyle.... oh sweet kyle. this orange head plays some type of classical instrument. my boy be playing the cello during a mcr (my chemical romance) song i swear😭😭.

stan: "dude c'mon this ain't the 1700's your piano doesn't belong here."

y/n: "yeah pack it up bethoven"

kyle: "DUDE IM SORWRY YK MY PARENTS MAQDE ME PLAY THIS GAY ASS INSTRUMENT!!!"

you and stan just giggle

there's always sleepovers at your house 24/7. your house is a safe spot for them. like y'all always snuggle and cuddle together in your bed. its so comfy too because you have so many plushies. you guys always watch movies and take naps after for sureee.<33

baking bro. kyle is the best baker out of y'all. one time stan and you tried to bake premade cookies. hell nah the fire department came. kyle was so mad that day becuase it was his oven and his parents were out of town... you and stan had to get summer jobs to pay off his oven. you guys still owe money whoops. you guys really hope kyle forgot about this accident. (he didn't.)

you guys go stargazing!! and it's the best thing to do too. kyle would bring his telescope and. you and stan would bring the snacks, flashlights, and blankets. one time you guys went and there was a mediator shower. all of you guys were in awe as you saw the mediators flash by. lowkey wanna of the best and rememberable moment you guys all have together.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH STAN

sometimes when stan is having a bad day with his parents he sneaks into your room and brings some beer to drink with you. kyle doesn't know you guys do this at all. but you guys drink A LOT whenever he comes over. it's literally a problem but #yolo😜. the conversations are worth it though. you guys talk about the meaning of life and. say some random ass shit. for example you both confessed that you had a crush on each other at some point in your guys life. nothing but laughter after that.

one time stan decided he wanted you to bleach his hair. he only wanted to dye it cause he didn't wanna look like his dad. he was having a mental breakdown about it. he never really shows this side to anyone but you, his bestie. he cries into your chest for a long time after venting. once he looks at your shirt (filled with snot and tears) he says "sorry" so much it's literally so cute. once you were done comforting him it was time to bleach his hair:D. (Y'ALL WERE STILL DRUNK) after bleaching his hair it looked good to y'all at that time... when he got sober he literally said, "y/n what the fuck happened to my hair." clearly you remembered what led to his bleached hair but he didn't. stan dyed it back to black himself ha.

he always plays his guitar to you. if he had a crush on you he'd definitely write a love song for you to listen to. definitely hasn't wrote one before. he play's all these catchy riffs for you and loves to see your face in awe. always tries to teach you to play but you get distracted cause he's so close to you😏. you listen to music with him 24/7 and share headphones!! radiohead, deftones, mcr, my bloody valentine are y'alls go to music artists. music is therapy for y'all.

THIRFTING!!! y'all go thrifting everyday bro i swear. he always finds the best stuff too. he finds all the embroidered jeans, vintage tees, and hella cool jewelry. LIKE HELLOO SHARING IS CARINGG!!! nah but you guys do be sharing clothes and accessories. since you guys have the same style. you guys also be pulling up to them yard sales. that's when your luck happens and. that's when stan gets jealous. you guys are depressed but well dressed.

YOUR FRIENDSHIP WITH KYLE

you always play with his hair. since its so cute and fluffy. he often gets insecure cause of cartman. but it comforts him when you play and style his hair. when you style his hair i'm talking about pigtails, braids, space buns all that cute stuff. to go with that you add clips, headbands and bows. he looks goofy as hell but anything for his best friend. sometimes when he's so stressed he asks if he can come over to your house. you say yes ofc. he only comes just so he can get his hair played by you. once you guys start chatting away and his hair is getting played with he get's so relaxed. this is what heaven feels like to him!!

starbies and studying at the library. ok out of the 3 of y'all you and kyle are the smartest. when you go to the library you guys always go to your go to spot every time. if someone is setting there. kyle asks them to politely leave. if not his short temper comes out. once the person finally leaves you guys set up everything organized. you guys borrow fancy highlighters for notes and. big wordy text books to read to each other. you guys always go over the answers if you have tests at school. kyle usually is the first to one to passout. so you have to carry him out of the library sometimes. he looks so peaceful why would you wanna wake him up😭. stan secretly gets jealous that you guys study at the library without him. like come on guys he's smart too.

PLAYING DREIDEL WITH HIM!!! he adores when you play dreidel with him! you always loose though🙄. no one can out beat him. when he first asked you to play with him and. you asked him what it was. he was so excited to tell you. you fell asleep because he told you the whole ass history of the dreidel. like you just wanted to learn how to play😭. whenever it's getting close to hannukah you make dreidels out of clay for everyone. you decorate them and stuff. sheila is tearing up cause y'all so cute together making dreidel's. she defenitly takes a photo of you two. after you gave everyone their dreidel. the last person to receive one was cartman.... it didn't go so well.

since you guys are nerds. you guys definitely write emo poems and. it always be late at night too. this is when y'all become so sensitive and emotional. trauma, bullying, blood, sweat, and tears. go into these poems omfg. you guys also write books for ike!! he loves them!! especially the ones from you. you and kyle also write dumb ass books for each other too. they even have lil crayon drawings lmaoo. for example: kyle wrote on called, "jew on the boat". it was one page that said, "jew on the boat". with a silly drawing. HELPPP YOU GUYS LAUGHED AT THIS FOR HOURS AND. IT WASN'T EVEN THAT FUNNY.

#south park x reader #south park hcs #south park x you #south park x y/n #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x you #stan marsh x y/n #stan marsh #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski x you #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski #- kye writes!

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kokitschi · 9 months

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AITA for getting two of my classmates killed?

Okay, okay, I know the title sounds bad but hear me out first.

So we're in this (involuntary) death game, right, long story. Basically the goal is to get away with murder but if you get caught, you get horrifically executed. Fun stuff.

Anyway, so this whole situation kinda takes a toll on me, but I keep it lowkey. Well, actually, my strategy was to act like I'm really enjoying this whole game, get chummy with the game master and stuff like that. I was apparently very convincing, even though I kept dropping hints that I'm not having a good time. So everyone was convinced pretty early on that I'm some psycho who gets pleasure out of watching people suffer, which admittedly I can't fully blame them for. But they were literally convinced I was satan incarnated before I ever did some heinous stuff just because I wasn't very nice and friendly and didn't want to pretend like we can just friendship-is-magic our way out of this. They literally got upset at me for freely speaking about the death of our classmates and trying to warn this sweet naive fucking idiot about being too trusting and the consequences of cooperating under these circumstances. No, I was not nice about it. But like, get real. They just didn't want to face the reality of the situation and that's fucking dangerous.

Anywayyyy, time passes, people get killed, everyones on edge and depressed and shit. Despite what I just said, I didn't actually believe that we all shouldn't cooperate under any circumstances. I just thought we shouldn't do it so openly. So there were two people I mainly cooperated with, let's call them G and M.

G is the aforementioned sweet naive idiot, he also happens to be an absolute mountain of a man. I saw potential in him, I knew he wasn't actually that dumb, he was just, naive and trusting and he really really wanted to protect people. I thought that was a dangerous combination. So I took him under my wing and we did spend a lot of time together.

M is... well, she's a dumb fucking bitch. Obnoxious as hell. But she's also pretty brilliant in making stuff. Like, inventions I mean. VERY USEFUL. We didn't get along much, but I knew how to handle her and we ended up collaborating on several creations and gadgets.

It was really powerful stuff, y'know? I was sure we could use these to take down the game master. I said as much to her. But she... was unsure. Actually, I guess it would be more accurate to say that she was scared, if not terrified. She didn't believe that we could win this way because she thought our classmates would definitely betray us! Can't blame her for thinking that, I guess. It was still pretty discouraging. It would've been fine if the issue had ended here, probably.

But then... long story short, I found out that she was trying to kill me. :')

I would've laughed but it really wasn't that funny, was it. I thought we had at least a truce, you backstabbing fucking bitch. Haha.

I couldn't let this happen. Of course I didn't want to die, but I did also think that if I die here, everyone else will also die. Even if she didn't get away with it, which is debatable because there would've only been about 1.5 competent people left alive to figure it out, I had plans to properly end this game. I couldn't die here.

I had to eliminate her first. She was simply too big of a threat. Not only was she actively planning to murder me, after we've literally created another possibility, she was also emotionally very unstable. It was too risky to solve this another way. Even if we had managed to pacify her now, she was still the biggest risk factor.

I had probably squeezed out all the valuable uses out of her anyway at that point, hah.

So yeah, I decided to strike her down before she could strike me down. But I didn't want to risk either getting everyone killed (because obviously I could've planned a murder I could get away with, duh) or getting executed myself. That would kinda be against the point of ending this game with more than 2 people left alive.

G had grown very depressed over the course of the game. He's always had a tendency to self deprecate and he's been offering himself as a meat shild since the very beginning but especially lately. So I thought I would be so kind and take him up on his offer :)

You guys don't know just how much he's been begging to be used, be useful, protect someone. Literally.

I planned the murder. I manipulated G, convincing him that this was the way to save everyone and he executed my orders. He killed her. I didn't have to get my own hands dirty. He even bought in his own ideas to cover up the murder scene!

The only information I hid from him was that I never planned to let him get away with this. He still chose to kill her, yknow? I didn't force him to do it. I did push his buttons. I knew he would do it if I just said the right words. But if I hadn't manipulated him like this, someone else eventually would've. And he would've done it for them too. Maybe it was always gonna happen!

Anyway, G got executed. Despite some hiccups during the trials, we unraveled the murder and well. He's dead now. My classmates are very upset with me hahahaha :')

But I didn't have a choice. What was supposed to do? Is it wrong of me for wanting to live? For thinking about the situation realistically? For thinking I was more necessary to end this game than either of them?

Edit: I've usurped the game master. Surely me officially ending this game will prevent people from murdering any more. :)

#kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #ouma kokichi #kitschpolls #drv3 spoilers #drv3 #danganronpa v3 #gonta gokuhara #miu iruma #lol this was not supposed to get this long but. oh well #obviously this is my interpretation of his actions mixed with my interpretation of him trying to cope with his actions #so yes this is unreliable narration #if u respond to this with a comment or reblog or tag pls play along #pretend ur seeing this as a reddit post and this is all the context u have for the situation #i just thought this would be fun

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yukidragon · 1 year

Note

So... I always had this question in my head, How do you think Shaun and Ian would react if MC and Jack had a baby? Well, in the sense that they can't see Jack they don't even know he exists, so I think it would be weird (especially Ian who would be (devastated)) that the MC would come with a baby. I also think if MC had a child with Jack, what would her pregnancy be like?

Shock would be an understatement if no one else but MC knows Jack even exists. Shaun and Ian would want to know who the father is, that’s for sure.

You know, this ask gives me a good excuse to do a few happy baby headcanons to counteract the sad and depressing ones that came from the previous ask about the topic. Mind if I use my specific version of the MC, Alice, for this? Awesome.

Before we begin, let’s throw in the obligatory tags for @channydraw, @earthgirlaesthetic, & @sai-of-the-7-stars. If you want to be tagged in my next headcanon/theory post, please let me know!

Just as a gentle reminder, Something’s Wrong with Sunny Day Jack is an Adults Only game, so there’s most likely going to be some 18+ only content sprinkled into the headcanon. Also, I might use some art Jambeebot/Sauce posted on their public twitter before it went down, so I’ll once again remind everyone to please not repost the pictures posted privately for patrons on the SnaccPop Studios Patreon.

First of all, the pregnancy is entirely planned. With Jack’s very existence being heavily dependent on Alice(/MC) wanting him there, it’s doubtful that he can accidentally get his sunshine pregnant. He can’t do anything she doesn’t want him to do, after all. It’s impossible even touch her if she doesn’t want it, so I doubt any eggs are getting fertilized unless she is 100% on board with the two of them making a baby together.

Since Alice wouldn’t want to have a baby until she is more financially stable and lives in a bigger place, this would probably be a few years down the line from when she first meets Jack. Let’s just ignore all goals he might have for his state of reality and presence in the world, and just assume that even at this point, only his sunshine can see/hear/touch him.

This might be a bit of a spoiler for the future of Sunshine in Hell, but I’ve mentioned it in a previous post anyway, so whatever. Alice is going to tell Shaun about Jack, both about the situation with the tape and such, and about them being in a relationship. Shaun has been cautiously supportive of their relationship and seen proof Jack exists. I mean, it’s hard to claim Jack is just Alice’s imaginary friend when said “imaginary” friend can lift her up off the ground.

As heartbroken as Shaun was that Alice got in another relationship that’s not with him, the idea of having a ghost(?) lover is exciting, and he’s kind of lowkey jealous.

Shaun is the first to hear of Alice’s pregnancy, outside of family. To say that it fills him with conflicting emotions is an understatement. On the one hand, he’s happy that his friend is happy, but on the other hand there’s this sense of sadness from missed opportunities and what might have been. He’s a big enough man to not let the latter influence him, but it still stings.

However, the bigger thing is the fact that the baby’s daddy is a ghost(?) That is both incredibly cool, and concerning. There’s plenty of horror movies where making babies with a supernatural entity ends very, very badly. I mean, Shaun would actually consider doing it if he had a supernatural lover and he could because, shit, that’s so cool, but he’d also be worried about how it might end... and doubly so when it’s a close friend of his going through this.

Shaun loves Alice, he’s just trying his best at this point to keep all that love platonic rather than romantic. He doesn’t want anything to happen to her, and he’ll do what he can to help take care of her... even if Jack gets a bit territorial.

This sort of exchange may or may not happen between them.

...

“Hey, back off with the spooOoOopy ghost crap, man. I know you gotta rub it in my face that Alice is with you now whenever we hang out ‘too much’ for your jealous yandere ass to handle, but pregnancy is no joke. I’m helping Alice as long as she needs it.”

“The only person Alice needs is me.”

“Oh get over yourself. You ever heard about what people go through to make a baby? That shit takes a lot out of you, and those are just normal babies. Who knows what a half-ghost baby is going to put her body through.”

...

Well, something like that at least.

Yes, Shaun and Jack are going to have conversations. Jack can move objects around, so why not a pencil on paper? I already have a few fun ideas for some interesting messages Jack might send to Shaun. :o)

Also, I want them to become friends despite their friction. Because I think it’s possible if things fall into place the right way with their interactions, and if Jack is able to feel secure enough for Alice to have other friends besides him. Plus I just think it would be a really fun dynamic. :3

Shaun does help a lot with driving Alice places like doctors appointments during the later stage of her pregnancy. While Jack can technically drive a car, it’s going to cause a lot of issues if people see a car moving without a driver behind the wheel.

Jack is totally not going to sulk in the back seat the first time Alice needs a ride from Shaun, definitely not.

So while overall Shaun isn’t exactly totally thrilled about the pregnancy, he is supportive for Alice, and is happy for her. She does sincerely want this baby and is both excited and scared to be a mother, and what sort of friend would he be if he couldn’t take some pleasure in her happiness?

Ian, however, is a totally different story.

I’m going to go with the idea that Jack didn’t actually do anything supernaturally madness-inducing to make Ian go away that involves horrific nightmares. Ian got to keep his sanity because Alice finally blocked him and moved on completely from that chapter of her life.

Ian, despite everything, still holds onto the hope that he and Alice will get back together someday, that they are meant to be together. Hearing the news that she’s pregnant - second-hand no less - would be devastating. He heard some rumors that she had a new boyfriend, but there’s no photos of this “Jack” person, and none of their mutual friends have seen Jack personally.

In fact, a friend of his wondered if Alice was making up having a boyfriend to keep Ian from going after her. It would certainly explain why Jack never appears on any social media photos Alice posts. If that’s the case that “Jack” is just made up, then Alice got knocked up by some random guy and is going to be raising the baby alone while lying to the world... or deluding herself that she has a new relationship.

Either possibility does make Ian afraid for her. Despite Alice cutting him off, he would feel the strong need to reach out. Hell, he’ll be willing to raise the child as his own if she’ll just give him a second chance!

Needless to say, Ian wouldn’t do anything to endear himself to either Alice or Jack by doing this. Hopefully he’ll take another rejection from her alright. If he won’t listen to her, then hopefully he’ll listen to Shaun’s advice that it’s over and he needs to move on.

If not, then Jack will certainly make sure Ian won’t trouble his sunshine further. Stress is bad for Alice and the baby after all.

Speaking of the pregnancy, Alice would likely be more exhausted than from a normal pregnancy. Bodies work on overdrive when building a baby, and given she seems to be what’s allowing Jack to be around in the first place, no doubt she’s already being taxed pretty hard. She’s probably going to be eating a lot more than the usual pregnancy and sleeping a lot longer. Luckily for her, Jack is actually going to let her sleep in whenever she needs it.

Jack would insist on carrying Alice around as much as possible during the pregnancy, even in the early stages. By this point, she’s gotten used to being carried by her big sappy tree of a boyfriend, and it’s sweet how eager he is to take care of her. It’ll be especially appreciated when she’s feeling the ill effects of pregnancy, such as morning sickness.

As mentioned earlier, Alice would make sure to be in a good financial situation before getting pregnant. She has a better job at this point, one that allows her to work remotely from home, which is very helpful when she finds herself with less energy to do much or go places. She also finds herself with a lot of cravings when it comes to food. Fortunately, Jack is there to help make sure she eats well, takes her medicine on time, and exercises moderately.

Naturally, a fair amount of that exercise involves sexy times.

Okay, maybe most of the exercise is sexy times. Pregnancy hormones can make a pregnant person very horny, and that’s the case for Alice.

Speaking of which, Jack’s connection with Alice is very heavily emotion-driven. Since pregnancy wreaks havoc on emotions due to hormones, that supernatural link between them is going to be affected.

Remember this picture where Jack got drunk because MC was drunk too?

Now imagine Jack getting a nice little cocktail of pregnancy hormones affecting his mind.

The result is Jack being even clingier and hornier than ever. Hard to believe, I know. Fortunately, when Alice isn’t feeling crappy and exhausted from her body building a baby, she will be trying to climb him like the big sappy tree he is.

Jack will certainly not complain about that side-effect of the pregnancy. It would be a fun change, since Alice is the more timid one of the two of them when it comes to sex, so it would be quite arousing to see her get a little demanding in that regard. He’ll even encourage her to top him and lavish her with praise for how well she rides him. Reverse-cowgirl is a good position when pregnant after all, and it allows him to play with her breasts while she bounces up and down in his lap. He’ll be sure to point out just how much her breasts have grown during the pregnancy as well.

Speaking of, as soon as Alice starts lactating, Jack is going to want a taste. He won’t steal from the baby when they arrive, but he’s going to enjoy the special treat while he can. He’ll also make sure to let her know that it’s the best milk he’s ever tasted, much to her embarrassment.

It’ll be pretty arousing as well as heartwarming for Jack to watch her belly slowly get bigger, knowing that it’s their child growing inside her. Alice loves him so much that she’s having a baby with him, and soon their little sundrop is going to come and join their family.

There will be plenty of intimate and not necessarily sexual moments where Alice will snuggle up to Jack while he rubs lotion on her pregnant belly, just quietly marveling at the little life growing inside of her. There’s a little person made up of parts of both of them, proving that he’s real without a shadow of a doubt. He won’t be forgotten because a part of him will always live on in their baby... and all the other children they’ll be having.

Alice would be feeling self-conscious about her body being changed by pregnancy, but Jack would reassure her the second he senses her thoughts going in that direction. She is beautiful, absolutely glowing with life. She appreciates those moments where he’s just quietly admiring her body, sighing in contentedly as he rubs her soothingly and cooing gentle words of love and praise as he takes good care of her.

Of course, Alice will be sure to let Jack know how much she appreciates him, and how glad she is that he’s there. Hearing her tell him how much she loves him is going to make the man just melt into a puddle of happy goo.

Love, consent, and their emotional connection is so important to the bond between them, and it’s even more true when Alice is pregnant. She would feel more inclined to just spend time with Jack to the point that she would wake up early of her own accord just because his isn’t in bed with her when he snuck out to surprise her with breakfast in bed.

In fact, I’m inspired to write out a little scene:

...

Jack hummed a quiet but cheerful tune as he cooked breakfast, wearing nothing but an apron and a smile. He just finished flipping over the second pancake when a warm body suddenly pressed into him from behind. He quickly realized Alice had snuck up behind him while he was distracted and latched onto him like a koala clinging to a tree.

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle fondly as he looked back over his shoulder at his sleepy lover. “Good morning, sunshine.”

“Mmmfgh,” Alice responded as she buried her face into his back, wearing nothing but his big fluffy robe. It was so large compared to her that it dragged on the floor behind her, but she was too tired to care.

Jack set aside the spatula and turned around to pull Alice into his arms, hugging her close before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You can go back to bed and sleep in a little longer if you want. You need plenty of rest for the baby.”

Although Alice sighed in pleasure at the kiss, she grumbled at the suggestion, and buried her face in Jack’s chest, muffling her next words. “Don’ wanna... Too cold without you.”

“Awww...,” Jack cooed, his heart melting, and he swept Alice up into his arms, carrying her easily despite how far she was into the pregnancy. “Sunshine...” He gave her a soft peck, his lips curling into a smile as she sleepily returned the kiss. “I wanted to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but I’d love it if you keep me company while I finish cooking. I won’t be long, I promise.”

Alice merely mumbled a sleepy affirmative as she snuggled in closer to Jack, basking in his warmth of his love.

...

Yes, this is the first thing I imagined when I thought of the scenario of Alice getting pregnant. I am a sucker for sweet little moments of intimacy like these.

While the pregnancy is going to be taxing on Alice, I’m definitely not going to headcanon a sad result like in the previous ask. The pregnancy is going to be complicated by her chronic health issues, but Jack will move heaven and earth to make sure his sunshine and their baby are happy and healthy. At the end of it all, the two proud parents will welcome their baby, a son whose name I haven’t decided on, who looks a lot like daddy dearest.

Yes, I couldn’t resist headcanoning this adorable bean as Jack and Alice’s oldest child. I mean look at that face! So cute! Just wanna fluff that hair.

As for younger siblings to follow... there’s going to be quite a number of them, since Alice wants a large family, and Jack is only too happy to help her make as many babies as she wants. I guess I’d have to design them myself sometime. At least one of them is going to inherit their mama’s albinism, of course.

Of course, how things go down in Sunshine in Hell will be a little different than this scenario, but this is still fun to imagine the challenges Jack will have taking care of a pregnant partner and then their children while the world doesn’t realize he actually exists.

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #swwsdj #sdj #Ask #Headcanon Ramblings #My Writing #Sauce-y Art

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causticcauses · 2 years

Text

this gravity can’t forget

cross-posted on Ao3

Pairing: Druig x Eternal! Female Reader

Summary: You don’t know if you can get through this, but that look promises a time when you’re not broken, but whole.

And his touch, too, promises fullness, as if the emptiness inside you is just a dream to be forgotten on the morrow.

Genre: Angst, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, AU - Canon Divergence

Warnings: Depression, vaginal sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, lowkey body worship, a bit of cock warming

A/N: All the events after Tenochtitlan don't happen; the group splits, but everyone is still alive and the betrayal/Emergence hasn't happened. Hundreds of years after splitting up they find that the Deviants are still kicking, and have to periodically regroup to eradicate them. Reader has to deal with the fact that there may not be an end to this fight. Druig tries to help her.

Your whole body is aching. Hell, at this point you feel like more like a bruise than a body. The hot water beats down on your head and shoulders, but it isn’t quite enough to relieve the tense pain scrawled in sloppy handwriting across your muscles. Eventually you acknowledge that your sorry state isn’t going to change any time soon and you drag yourself out of the shower.

Staring at yourself critically in the foggy mirror, even through the haze you can see the splotch of plum purple across your ribs, the torn skin of your left shoulder. A stupid mistake. The Deviant shouldn't have been able to touch you, let alone do this.

There was a reason you hadn’t asked Ajak to heal you. Such a dumb misstep didn’t really deserve a reward. Besides, if you’d asked her Druig would have noticed. They all would have. Standing amidst the scraggily trees, the Deviant corpses nearby, with the rain pouring down from a sky that seemed too grey and tired to manage it, you just hadn’t felt like dealing with the swell of emotion that would come if they knew you were hurt. You didn’t want to worry them, or feel their pity, or disapproval. You didn’t want to deal with any of it, actually.

The thought has your power kicking up, a thin current of electricity scouring across your skin like it could wipe away the anxiety. It’s a reassuring sensation, the energy skittering over your aching flesh, a feeling instead of the numbness that’s engulfed you. But it’s also childish. Immature to need to reach out for reassurance, and at your age. Several thousand years and you still haven’t really grown up.

You scowl, abruptly cutting off the electric current, and turn away from your battered reflection, snagging a towel off the rack as you do.

It's one of those crappy hotel towels that might be repelling the water instead of absorbing it, but you wrap it around yourself anyways in the vague hopes it'll do the job at a later date. Exiting the small bathroom leads you to an equally small room, with the usual – and by now familiar – assortment of mildly ugly brownish-gold duvets, a mismatched chair or two, chipped paint and several insistently bland paintings on the walls.

The bed isn't comfortable, but you still collapse on it with a blissful sigh, too tempted to resist the chance to lie down. Just for a second. It isn’t like anyone is in the room, anyway.

You lie there, towel wrapped around your torso, staring up at the ceiling, and try not to exist. A futile experiment for an Eternal. There's a horrendous headache imploding behind your eyes, and you think it's kinda unfair Eternals have to deal with those at all, on top of everything else. At least lying down feels (mostly) good on your strained muscles.

Your wounds are still throbbing, but a rest and a day or two will see them healed well enough. The shower has gone some of the way and your supernatural powers will do the rest. Headache proof, no, but at least you recover quickly.

Another sigh, and you tilt your head back, eyes closing. This has been one hell of a road trip. Sprite said it'd be fun – and it has been, sometimes – but getting your ass handed to you this morning by a Deviant that sort of looked like a Yeti crossed with a T-Rex had soured that. You’re just so fucking tired. Tired of strangers, of fighting, of moving, of all of it. You've always been the type to get homesick, which is funny given that you've never had a home. Not a permanent one. The whole never-aging thing tended to get HOAs foaming at the mouth.

Druig's joke, said with a wry smile as you'd packed up the apartment you shared several months ago, ready to chase down the hint of Deviants that Makkari had found in the north. Druig had said it to make you feel better about leaving, and even now you smile wearily, picturing his invitingly ironic expression.

Not a home, that man, but a place to find comfort all the same. At least if you had to travel to the ass-end of nowhere, he could be by your side the whole way.

You're in some place called Dawson City now. Druig snorted when you drove into the small town that was assuredly not a city, and you concurred. Seemed like the only people who lived here – or would live here, ever – were as far from city-slickers as a bear was from a Deviant.

Was that why the nest of Deviants you'd wiped out this morning had been so fierce? They needed to be that tough to even have a hope of snacking on the folks up here in the Yukon?

A laugh bubbles in your throat but doesn't escape the fatigue sinking thick and languorous through your body. Today has just been – a lot. So much. Just like so many of your days, these last couple of... how long has this been plaguing you? Just years? Decades, now?

In a couple of seconds, you're gonna have to get up, update the maps, figure out where to head next. You and the other Eternals are doing a sweep of the entire Yukon, seeing where you’d missed a monster or five. Druig and the rest will be back soon from their supply run. It'll be good to have a few suggestions ready when they return to the hotel. It’s just Druig and you in this room, but you’ll all gather in Ajak’s room and talk shop around slices of pizza, or maybe a fancy assortment of frozen microwave dinners.

Gil is a great cook, but even he hadn't felt like trying to make meal magic in the grubby hotel. It's fine. You're all used to quick food, anyways. Of course, Kingo is gonna moan and groan like it's poison, but that's fine. You're all used to that, too.

Having some possible places and routes marked out ahead of time will be helpful to get everyone on track. It's the least you can do, after skipping out on the supply run. Druig had looked at you closely when you'd dipped, claiming a headache, and you'd just focused on projecting your tired vibes. It wasn't that hard. You were almost exhausted enough to drown out the guilt, the dejection, without even trying.

Druig probably didn't pick up anything. Or at least not much. Otherwise, he would have stayed. He'd offered to, but you'd squashed that with a brusqueness that might have offended someone who hadn't known you for millennia. Actually, it had slid off him, and he’d pressed you more about it, but eventually you’d managed to convince him to go.

His concern is just another thing to feel guilty about, but you're just so tired. Too tired to let it cling to you for long. This isn’t new, not by a long shot, but it’s gotten so much worse since leaving for this latest trip. Some days it’s all you can do to get up, let alone plan, or help, or fight. You need to do something about it, but you’re so goddamn exhausted. Besides, you’re an Eternal. None of the others need – anything, to keep going. Not rest, or meds, or to talk. You shouldn’t either.

You don’t want to think about this anymore. Besides, you need to look at the maps. Plan a route. Do something useful.

It’s the least you can do.

You'll do it soon, too. In a couple minutes. The bed is miraculously getting more comfortable, though, sucking you into sleep. A long day. A hard day. You’ll just rest for a bit and then get up. In a couple of minutes...

---

Some time later, there’s a soft whir at the door as it unlocks. When Druig pushes his way into the hotel room, hands loaded down with bags, he only takes a few shuffling steps inside and then pauses, brow furrowing. Almost unwilling, a smile curls the corner of his mouth, and he shakes his head.

You were pretty fucking cute for someone passed out cold in a raggedy towel and nothin’ else.

He takes a few minutes to put the supplies they’d grabbed into some semblance of order, ready to be crammed into the backpacks they’ve got stowed away in their two rental trucks. There’re a few advantages to not taking the Domo – like feeling less like alien interloper overlords, for one – but convenient space isn’t really one of them.

Or more comfortable beds. Druig is surprised you managed to knock out like that, given this hotel’s got mattresses like concrete blocks. You must be really tired. Given the day everyone’s had, he supposes he doesn’t blame you. Besides, maybe the headache really took it out of you.

Once everything is in a semblance of order, he moves closer to you, not quite aware of how much his face has softened. His eyes are settled on your quiet if somewhat dopey expression, good to see after the days (months, years, decades) of stress that've built up in drawn lines over your forehead, a tight smile across your lips.

He knows you want to quit. Throw in the towel – or maybe just sleep in it. Hell, he'd half expected you to refuse when Ajak contacted you both months ago, ordering everyone together again. Another mission. Another group of Deviants to destroy. Another apartment you had just made perfect, with a second-hand couch you were ridiculously proud of and some blinds that almost complemented the wall paint. Another job you loved.

Another goodbye.

It's good you're sleeping. Druig's not even sure if you slept last night, or the night before. Certainly you'd still been sitting up and reading when he'd fallen asleep both nights.

After a moment of hesitation, he reaches out with his power. Carefully – tenderly – he feels along your consciousness, not even fully certain what he's looking for. Not details – he can't get those from other Eternals, can't get through the walls. It's more like standing outside a room with light spilling through the cracks in the door.

It's a light he loves, all the same. Reveres, almost. Maybe it's because he can't see through the door. It's not something Druig thinks about much, anymore. What he does think about is the colour, the vibrancy, the warmth of that light.

Your presence, ever since getting that call from Ajak, has... dimmed. You drag yourself through the motions, and there are flashes of brilliance, amusement, affection – hell, annoyance, even anger. But mostly, you've just been so flat. That’s something you’ve dealt with before, but now it seems to be... He didn’t know. Overwhelming you. Worse than it’s ever been. He doesn’t know why, or how, but it’s there. Impossible to deny.

It pains him to see you like this, aches in a way he didn't expect. A heart-hurt lodged in his chest that he can't get rid of.

It's not destined to leave tonight. There's not much for him to pick up from your aura. It's just – You're still so tired, he can tell that even from his outside vantage. Even asleep, you're so tired.

His eyes had fluttered closed while he focused, but they slide open now, an aggravated sigh slipping from his lips. How can he help you? Ajak said it isn't something she can heal when he grudgingly approached her about it. (At the risk of his life, given you would have killed him if you found out.) If the healer can't do anything, what can he do? His power isn't – it's not for healing.

With a grimace, Druig shakes his head. Maybe this really is the last of the Deviants. Maybe this time – unlike in Tenochtitlan, unlike in Nagano, unlike in Oymyakon – they'll really be done. The gods know that you and him could use a break. A permanent one, to give you time to recover, whatever that means.

He doesn't want to think about what that means. It's too complicated a question. Besides, they've all been through this too many times. He doesn't know if he'll ever actually believe the Deviants are truly gone. Given the look on your face when you'd heard what Makkari had found in her world travels, nearly seven decades after the last "eradication," Druig's pretty sure you won't ever believe it. Not fully. You're probably gonna live the rest of eternity waiting for another call to arms.

The thought disturbs him more deeply than he knows what to do with, a jagged lance of unease burrowing into his brain. Another shake of his head, more impatient this time, and Druig shoves the idea away. Almost defiant.

You'll get better. He'll make sure of it.

To that end... There are a couple of hangers and an extra blanket in the otherwise bare closet, and he takes the thick material out. Getting you under the covers without waking you up is impossible, so this'll have to do.

The blanket bundled in his arms, Druig hesitates again, though this time it's from affection and not worry. You really do look fucking adorable with your face pressed into the pillow, damp hair straggling across your face, the towel perilously close to falling off completely. In another mood, the sight would have set something burning in his stomach and lower, but as it is, it just tightens his throat. Protectiveness, regret... love.

Except... as he settles the blanket gently over your sleeping form, you shift, turn to your other side, and the cover slips slightly off. His eyes reluctantly move from the amusing picture of your face scrunched into the pillow, and Druig’s gaze catches something he didn’t notice at first. Something on your shoulder. He studies it for a moment, his mouth thinning.

Anger and hurt and fear laps at him, a low tide. Why wouldn't you tell him about this? By now the wound – it looks like a bite that mangled a nice chunk of flesh – is sealed over, but it's still an ugly, enflamed patch in your otherwise smooth shoulder, blood-curdling in how close it is to your neck. The armour helps, but it’s not perfect, and the Deviant must have got a real good grip. It looks painful, even now, and he doesn't like to imagine how much it had hurt when it happened. A stupid pain. A useless pain, when Ajak could have healed it so easily.

So why hadn't you told him?

Druig already knows the answer, even as he soundlessly mouths the question.

You'd been slow today. Blunt, but true. He'd only half seen it, his attention bent on corralling the hunters the Deviants had been trying to eat to a safer area. One Deviant had approached you from the side as you directed your lightning into crackling spears that drove back another monster threatening Kingo. Druig thought you'd turned, seen the Deviant approaching, and yet when it leaped at you, you – didn't move. Not fast enough.

That’s been a theme, these past few months. A theme he finds so hard to swallow, when you’ve always been the most agile of the Eternals, with the obvious exception of their speedster.

Maybe that's why, when Makkari blew it off you with one of her sonic booms, and you'd sprung to your feet quick enough, Druig accepted you were fine. That you'd channeled enough electricity into its jaws to seize them up and stop it from snapping at you. Because your slip up couldn’t have lasted long enough to really let it get it’s teeth in you.

Or maybe he's just trying to give himself an excuse, like a fucking coward. He should have asked, pressed, refused to lay off when he could feel how off you were. Are. Of course you wouldn't tell him, or anyone. When have you ever been able to admit a mistake without it all but killing you? And it's only gotten worse with the weight that’s been dragging you down.

Something... something has to change. Truth be told, Druig isn’t used to dealing with one of his fellows sinking. That’s usually him, with all the shit with the humans and right and wrong hanging around like a sign that points in every direction but straight. But you’re – If Druig believed in gods, believed in them in a way that made them worth worshipping, he’d be praying for help now. For a way to hold you up, or show you how to stand on your own. Anything, anything. Because something has to change.

In your sleep you murmur and twist, pressing your face harder into the pillow as a shadow of something he can’t name crosses your expression. The tightness moves from his throat into his chest, a painful squeeze. His hand hovers for a moment, indecision a paralyzing poison locking his muscles in place. He’s scared to touch you. Scared of waking you up, yeah, but scared that – that he’s the reason for all of this. That he’s an infection, spreading his own cynical view of the world to you, and maybe that’s why you’re so low now. Thousands of years together would rub off on anyone, right?

He can’t reach into your mind to find out what’s hurting you, and maybe that’s the worst part of it all. There isn’t a simple answer in front of him – or any answer – and it’s killing him.

Something has to change.

---

Waking up is all fog and aching. You’re wrapped in blurriness and warmth, a muddle that has you longing to just drift away again. But there’s a nagging feeling stirring in the nest of lethargy, a pricking at the back of your brain that increases as your eyes slowly open. It’s not quite dark, in the... the hotel room. Where you and the rest of the Eternals are staying. Your mind gropes for each fact, finding them only tentatively.

With a low groan, you start to stretch, only to cut yourself short as your body remembers what it takes your memory several more seconds to recall. Right. The whole getting bitten and tossed around by a nightmare monster thing. Your breath catches, and you try again, testing out the pain level. Not so bad. Worse in your shoulder than your ribs.

“A little sore?”

The unexpected (though not unfamiliar) voice has you gasping, and you jolt up into a seated position, electricity automatically sparking along your skin before you snap it off. Your motion makes the blanket covering you fall off and you realize three things simultaneously as it does. One, you’re naked. More concerning, you must have fallen asleep and totally failed to do... hell, anything productive for your family. And maybe worst of all, Druig is on the bed next to you, almost at the very edge of the mattress, but with the low, orange and pink-tinted light slipping through the window, you can tell his eyes are on you. On your broken body.

Instinctively you grab at the blanket, heave it up to hide what he probably already saw. Definitely saw, as your brain keeps catching up with reality and you realize the blanket you’re clutching must have been put on after you fell asleep. “What time is it?” you ask to avoid his question, your voice a croak. Clogged with a sudden surge of emotion at the thought of the tender gesture.

“Around 5 in the morning,” he replies.

You suck in a breath in shock, feeling like the information punched the air out of your lungs. It was – the light was – You’d thought it was the sunset, not the sunrise! How could you have slept so long? The panicked guilt surges, and you move to get to your feet as if there’s anything useful you can do now, the rough towel that had fallen off you rubbing uncomfortably underneath your body

“Stall a sec,” Druig says, and there’s something strange about his voice. It’s too soft, without the sardonic bite you’re used to. As he continues, the note doesn't change. "You don't have to get ready or nothing like that. We're not headin’ out today."

Still you're poised to get up, sick with a shame mired in the sleep-addled fog that's wrapped like cotton around your head. "Not heading out?" you repeat stupidly, which would normally provoke some kind of teasing, but Druig just shakes his head in confirmation. "Why...?"

"Gil found out they've got somethin' called the Sourtoe cocktail at the saloon. Whiskey and a toe. You drink it and get to be part of some club or somethin'. Saloon doesn't open until the Friday, though, so he begged Ajak to stay for today."

You stare at him, trying to find a trace of joking on his face. He seems to be totally serious. Part of you wondering if this is still a dream, you say, "A toe? We're staying for a toe?"

"A toe drink," Druig corrects. "Besides, Makkari mentioned she'd like to visit that Jack London cabin or museum or whatever." His expression turns contemplative. "'Tween you and me, I think she wants to nab one of his journals. Like she's not got enough crap cluttering up her room on the Domo as is."

"And Ajak is okay with this? And Ikaris?" It's the only objection your brain can put forward, although it's a valid one. Those two aren't entirely the types to allow distractions.

"Sersi persuaded Ike. She wants to talk to some of the people here, maybe fix some of their houses when they aren't looking. You know how she is. And Ajak..." He looks away from you. "Ajak agreed we could all use some R&R. Not like those Deviants went down easy yesterday."

Your shoulder twinges when you shift uncomfortably, and he looks up at the motion. Druig hesitates, and then asks, "How are you, anyways?"

Pasting on a flaky smile is easier than speaking the lie, but you manage both. "I'm good. After sleeping for like 12 hours, I'd better be, hey?" You don't feel like you slept that long. Or maybe you do. Maybe that's the reason for the lassitude weighing down your limbs and everything else, too.

You don't like lying to Druig. To any of your family, but him especially. Not least because he sees through it so often. After several millennia together, he seems to know when you're talking bullshit, even if he can't read your mind.

His head tilts as he considers that. If he knows you, you know him, too, and you can tell by the way his mouth is pulling down at the corner that he doesn't believe you. That knowledge has your stomach tightening, more shame and frustration. You’ve talked to him about how you’re feeling before. Or more specifically, he’s pried admissions from you, from time to time. It’s just that neither of you know what to do with the information. It’s not like there’s an Eternals therapy hotline.

Besides, you don't want to worry him, or disappoint him, and you're fine. You're fine. There's no reason for him to be worrying.

And even if you're not fine, there's nothing he can do about it, so what's the point of getting him involved?

"Really," you insist into the long pause, hoping he'll just leave it alone. "Guess my headache just took me out. If it's not Deviants it's something else, right?" Your laugh is a weak thing that trails off quickly.

That irritates him; his eyebrows draw down, lips thinning even further. His voice isn't harsh when he replies, though. Just strained. "I saw your shoulder last night. Your headache grow teeth when you weren't looking?"

Of course he saw. Of course he won't leave it alone. "It was nothing. Just a scrape."

"Yeah? Then it must be gone by now, huh?"

You glare and don't drop the blanket, a mixture of annoyance and guilt surging in your gut. And something deeper. Heavier. Something like despair, but with less of a name.

When you don't respond, the blanket clutched protectively around your shoulders, he exhales. "Love..." Druig starts softly, wavers. "I know y'won't let Ajak look at it. I guess there's no point in asking?"

Biting your lip makes pain bloom across your mouth, which is better to focus on than the pain laced through his voice. A quick shake of your head because you can't think of anything to say.

Druig leans towards you, reaches out. You stiffen, half expecting him to try to snag the blanket away, but he just puts his hand on your leg like he can't stand not having the contact. "What about begging?" he asks, low and fervent as his fingers stroke lightly along your leg, over the covers. "Would that do it?"

"I’m fi–" The words catch in your throat, and you have to force them out. “It's fine, Druig. I don't wanna bother Ajak for something so small."

"She wouldn't mind."

You know that's true, and yet... It's pathetic, but you can't face Ajak. What if she knows there's something wrong with you? What if it's something she can sense? How can you tell your leader, the woman you look up to in so many ways, that after thousands of years you want an end? That you're too weak to go on forever?

She'll understand. Of course she will; she's Ajak. But that understanding, that acceptance of your weakness, that's almost worse than contempt.

"No, Druig." Your voice comes as a brittle snap, almost cracking, and you force yourself to smile and lighten the tone. "It's ugly as hell but it'll heal quickly." Please leave it alone.

In the washed out lighting, it's hard for even your enhanced eyesight to be sure, but his eyes seem red when they meet yours. It occurs to you to wonder if he's been awake all this time, watching over you... agonizing over you, wearing himself thin for something he shouldn’t have to care about. Please, Druig, you find yourself thinking, so violently it's almost desperation, just leave it alone.

And you ignore the smaller, shakier voice whimpering something along the lines of help.

Maybe you think it hard enough, maybe it really does emanate from you – or maybe Druig just knows. Either way, after a moment, his hand tightens on your leg, and he nods once. Nods again, confirming it to himself. "Okay," he murmurs. "If you're sure."

A quick, jerky bob of your head, and his grip relaxes, once again back to soothing as he smooths over the cover. "Mmkay. You wanna try to go back to sleep for a couple hours? I can grab your sleeping stuff."

Getting changed means letting him see your shoulder – or asking him to look away, which, given how long you've been fucking, would just be weird – so you say quickly, "No, that's okay. I'm – this is comfortable." By this time you're not really tired, not in the way that calls for more sleep, but you don't want to say no yet again. Worst come to worst you'll just lie there until 7 or something.

For the first time, a hint of the familiar sardonic note enters his voice. "You wanna sleep in the towel? Comfy."

Responding to the provoking tone, you reply archly, "Who said I was gonna put on the towel?"

He laughs, a low sound that burns away some of the fog in your stomach. "Fair enough. Who'm I to argue with the likes of that?"

When Druig leans over, you close your eyes and let him kiss you. In this, at least, in the taste and touch of him, there's a little relief. A little life where everything else feels so dead. You're so drained you don't feel up to deepening the kiss, to threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him closer, but you savour the comfort and connection that this brings. If only for a moment.

He makes to pull away, pauses, and then returns like he can't quite bear to break off. Hand moving up to find your waist under the blanket, Druig holds you as he murmurs against your lips, "I love you. Y'know that?"

"I know," you respond unevenly, fighting back the leaden tears prickling in your eyes. "I love you so goddamn much, too."

It's so true.

So why isn't it enough to fill the hollow emptiness?

Finally you draw back from him, and slowly, reluctantly, he lets you go. "Get some more sleep, love. You'll feel better."

"Mmhm."

Going a little against your word, you wrap the towel back around yourself as you lie down under the blanket, and Druig joins you. Under the same blanket, in his boxers, but keeping his hands to himself. It's not like sleeping in the nude is unheard of for either of you, but today – today you need a little shield. Even if it's damp and, now that you're not on the verge of passing out, pretty damn uncomfortable.

Maybe a sad, wet towel is exactly what you deserve.

There’s a part of you that knows how silly and pitiful your wallowing is, but it’s not a strong enough presence to knock you out of it. You just curl up, your back to Druig, eyes closed but sleep far from your mind. He’s so close, but he’s so far away from you. How can you build that bridge when everything is splintering inside you?

Your thoughts keep circling from one bleak thing to another. Your failure with the Deviant, falling asleep when you shouldn’t have, the fact that Deviants still exist, the fact that Deviants will always exist and there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them or stop this incessant cycle of fight and kill and rest and fight again. There’s nothing you can do. Everything is so fucking miserable and you don’t want to be here anymore...

You couldn’t have said how long you lay in the semi-dark, sleepless and hopeless. It went on unending, just like your life. On and on and–

His hand is a heavy weight on your hip that anchors your spiralling thoughts. “Can’t sleep?” Druig whispers, and of course he knew you were awake. The gratitude swells and meets the dull despair darkening your insides and it's impossible to say which one is stronger. Maybe your reply is the answer, as you desperately try to keep a tight hold on the gratitude amidst an impulse to brush him off. "I guess. Sorry if I'm keeping you up."

"It's fine. I couldn't fall asleep, anyways."

That sends a sharp pang through your chest, knowing well enough why he can't sleep, and your eyes open. "Sorry," you repeat softly.

He slips his hand over your hip and further, lightly shoving up the towel until his palm is spread wide against your stomach and the touch makes your breath spill out. "S'okay," he murmurs as he hugs you one-handed, and the warmth of his bare chest against your back is another spark filling up the emptiness.

Arm wrapped around you, he asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

You stiffen in his embrace automatically, accidentally. This has been a conversation between the two of you before, one you've fought and twisted and even snapped too hard to get out of. You can't explain it – you can hardly bear to acknowledge it – and having another Eternal, a man with far more reason than you to crumble, trying to be understanding and find a solution when there isn't one is something you can't accept. "No," you say, your voice hoarse with the weight of that answer.

There's a moment of silence as Druig struggles to find a response, a way forward. There's tension in the arms holding you. You cringe internally, fighting resentment that he feels the need to press, an anger that clashes with the piteous gratitude that he's still asking.

Eventually Druig's arms tighten, drawing you closer to him, and you can feel how deliberately he lightens his tone. "Okay." He kisses your ear, a gentle press. "If you can't sleep, how about we do somethin’ else?" is his quiet but oh-so-blatant suggestion.

You stir in his embrace, emotions clashing in the pit of your gut. A flare of affection and something hotter, but over it all the suffocating mantle of your fatigue. And guilt. Always, always the guilt.

You're not enough for yourself, so how can you possibly be enough for anyone else?

"Druig, I'm sorry but I'm not sure..." Before you can find words to express the bewildering, pathetic lack of energy, your companion eases away the stagnant pause.

"Not about me today, love. I'm not asking you for anythin'. Just wanna help."

Even as he speaks, Druig draws his hand up your stomach, under the towel, a tingling trail as his fingers barely skim your skin. The touch remains a graze of contact that he doesn't deepen, just traces delicate, aimless patterns over your ribs, your sternum, your breasts. Waiting for you.

Your eyes have screwed shut, and you're so torn. You feel stretched tight between two desires, so painfully thin that his fingers might pass through you at any moment. Your depression, heavy as a black hole, dragging you to the center of exhaustion. And then your longing – aching – for a reason, a moment, a second in eternity to feel good.

Druig ducks his head and kisses your neck where it meets your shoulder. "Come back to me, yeah?" he whispers, and the plea is so imploring and so, so lost. As lost as you feel.

Your voice is broken when you reply. "I don't know how."

You can feel his breath, gently expelled against your skin in a sigh. Then his fingers are moving, finding one of your nipples and caressing it, just hard enough to send a prickle of pleasure through your chest, through everything else.

"Focus on this," he instructs, a low command that swirls through your head, for all the world like telepathy. "Just this, love."

"I–"

"Shh. Just this." Druig kisses your neck again, higher, right below your ear this time, and he rolls the sensitive bud of your nipple between his adept fingers as you exhale shakily.

He knows you so well. Even when everything else is adrift and there's nothing you can find in the sea of black, his touch is an island in the midst of drowning. Something to cling to as the world washes away. You open your eyes against the darkness inside, letting in the bare morning light, trying to make yourself relax, to just – be. Just this.

Cupping your breast now, gently massaging, inspiring a soft bloom of enjoyment that makes you exhale again. "There's a good girl,” Druig hums. “Remember this?”

A line of kisses down your neck, across your shoulder, brushing over the tattoo on your shoulder blade. You do remember, vividly, like each sweet press is a breadcrumb in the forest, leading you through the dark trees to a place that’s almost home. Instinctively you tilt your head back, letting yourself rest against his strong chest, and Druig knows it for the encouragement it is. He pauses, takes his hand away from your breast to tug at the towel still wrapped around your torso. "Mind if I take this off?"

Rather than replying, you scrabble at the towel yourself, yanking it off and then writhing to get it out from under you. It's thrown into a heap on the floor, and Druig is quick to throw back the blanket, leaving it rumpled at the end of the mattress as he pulls you back against his chest.

Part of you doesn't know what you're doing. You're well enough aware that this isn't going to solve anything. It's pointless. The fact that Druig wants to help you – desperately, you can tell, from the pressure of his hands, the timbre of his voice – is an ache that's too complicated to put a name to, settled at the base of your throat and making it harder to breathe.

At the same time... it feels so good when he drags his fingers over your stomach and then lower, dipping down to caress the insides of your thighs with languid focus. It's not a blaze, some all-encompassing desire made of sweat and heat and urgency. You've had that with Druig, so many times, but this is softer, not as demanding. It's less of a chase and more of a stroll in the sun, no destination in mind. Warm and safe and comforting.

And somehow still not enough.

That's a wrenching thought that has frustration lancing through your muscles, tightening them into bundles of aggravation. Druig feels it; he must, because he's suddenly pulling away from your back.

Regret cascades down your cold spine, regret that you always have to make it more difficult than it should be. Why can't you just take what you’re given? Just accept it? Why does this have to be so hard?

Before those questions can turn into something with teeth, Druig is leaning over you, and you shift to lie flat on your back and look up at his shadowed face. Natural as breathing, he moves so that he’s on his knees at your side, all the while watching you. He takes his time, searching your expression with eyes that are almost too intense in their passion. Those same beautiful blues aren't slicked over with gold, so he's not trying to read you, at least not deeply. But all the same, you shift uncomfortably, suddenly afraid. Druig doesn't really need his telepathy to decipher people, sometimes, and he certainly doesn’t need it just to feel someone’s general mood.

One side of you hopes he can pick something up, some way out that you can't find in yourself. An answer, you're praying for an answer, but what if all he sees is – nothing? What if you're really as empty as you feel?

Druig reaches out, cups your jaw with almost unbearable gentleness. As his thumb strokes along your cheek, his intent look doesn't ease. "You gotta let go of it," he says finally. When your jaw tenses, ready with a retort, he smiles, just a bare twist of his lips. "I know, I know. Easier said, huh? But love... Trust me on this. Just now, right now, let go."

The tears are back, stinging in your eyes. “Help me?” you ask, hating how weak you are but knowing all the same that if there’s anyone on the planet you can turn to without fear, it’s Druig.

And you’re right. Druig’s smile warms, his grip on your face becomes just a little firmer, and he urges your chin up, ducking to press a long, slow kiss into your neck. "I can feel you, love," he whispers, and you shiver at that prospect. With the sheer intimacy of it. “I know you’re tired. And that’s okay. You can be tired today, tomorrow. S’okay. We’ll get through it.”

You don’t know if you believe that, but there’s the whisper of his mouth ghosting along your jaw, just skimming your lips before he pulls up, and you can drown your disbelief in that feeling. If his touch wasn’t here to ground you right now, you’d – you’d be falling to fucking pieces. Or at least smaller pieces than you’ve already broken in to. But he is here, so soothing as he feels down your side, too gentle to provoke pain even in your bruised flesh. His fingers once again slip between your thighs, other hand still caressing your face, and the reverent look in his eyes...

You don’t know if you can get through this, but that look promises a time when you’re not broken, but whole.

And his touch, too, promises fullness, as if the emptiness inside you is just a dream to be forgotten on the morrow. His fingers brush your folds, and your legs fall open wider, welcoming the sensation. “Beautiful,” Druig all but sings, and his fingers are a counterpart to his lilting accent as they ease inside your cunt and inspire a breathy gasp.

He dips down, mouths along your collarbone, to the crook of your neck. Slower now, tenderly pressing kisses to the outside of your wound, not enough to inspire pain, only fondness. Then he goes lower still, finding one nipple and swirling his tongue around it in a heady wash of warmth. And all the while his hand is a fervent disciple to your need, thumb circling your clit, fingers working with languid concentration to draw out more gasps. Over it all, a steady stream of murmurs breathed against your skin, the words oxygen to your suffocating heart. “You feel so good, my love. That’s a good girl. Just relax... Christ, fuck, you’re so lovely.”

The build of pleasure is slow, your depressed body and mind resistant to the call of buoyant oblivion, but Druig is patient. He has all the time in the world, after all. Steadily, then, he works you over, touching you in the ways you like best, heedless of anything so mortal as the clock ticking on. His patience is rewarded with the wetness between your legs, by your moans, by the way your hips begin to buck in slow, indolent rolls into his hand. Heat builds in your core, in that cold void, not hot enough to burn, but secure as a hearth fire all the same.

Your power becomes restless, like a muscle aching to be stretched, and gingerly you let it loose, just a low trickle. Druig sucks in a breath when it arcs between him and you, but there’s no pain on his face, and you know from past experience that the sensation is a pleasant one as long as you keep it muted. That’s not a challenge anymore, and the buzz of electricity along your skin is an added sensation, putting more into a vessel that’s nearing capacity.

“Druig,” you whimper when he slips three fingers inside, the stretch an ache that sets your already humming pulse to a higher pace. “I want – I want–” The pleasure is a cloud you’re grateful to sink into, but it’s stealing your words, leaving you to meet his piercing blue gaze with pleading need.

His touch relaxes, but only for a moment. “I know,” Druig murmurs, and the pressure he’s applying to your clit increases, making your whole body tense with the edge you’re hovering over. He pumps into you a little deeper, a little faster, and the waves tingle over your body, your eyes heavy with the need to close. You keep them open, though, fixed on Druig. You know he loves watching you come undone under his hands, and today his expression is even more attentive than usual, adjusting his tempo and depth to every spasm across your face and every cry you make.

“Just a little more, love,” is his appeasing response to your increasingly urgent whines, and he isn’t wrong. Just a little more, of his fingers curling in the wet warmth of your cunt, of his thumb against your clit, of his other hand twisting the sensitive bud of your breast. Just a little more, floating over the verge in weightless bliss, and with Druig against you, the loneliness and heaviness retreating to somewhere far away. Just a little more...

Another crook of the fingers that know you so well, and you gasp, your core tightening, thighs clamping around his hand. Your orgasm dances over your skin, a series of tingling, light waves that are just as gentle as his touch. The center of you is filled to the brim, and it’s like the pleasure is overfilling, sending little ripples outwards. Druig slows but doesn’t stop, prolonging the swells of warm electricity, making you writhe and pant, and you’re not too far gone to deliberately bask in the realization of his promise, to revel in a moment when your lungs are full and the tiredness is translated into contentment.

He hasn’t stopped watching you, and as the orgasm fades and you sag, your legs falling open, eyelids fluttering, Druig sighs. “So fuckin’ beautiful.” It’s impossible to doubt those words when they’re said in such an awed voice, and the reverential, reluctant way he draws his fingers from your cunt just reinforces that.

Breathless with the airy pleasure in your chest, you say, “Tangled hair and all, huh?” Easy to make that joke; your appearance isn’t one of the things that Druig has let you have any insecurity about over the years.

With a snort, he cleans his hand off on the bedding before running it through the truly frightening snarl your unbrushed hair has become. “Gives you a certain je ne sais quoi, sure.” He butchers the French purposefully, making you laugh, and then his eyes become more serious as they scan over you. You can see the question on the tip of his tongue, and you don’t want to answer it.

Instead you reach up with both hands, catch him with arms around his shoulders, and bring him to you. Your tongue parts his lips, and he hums against your mouth, even that vibration sending a warm spark of pleasure through your nerves.

But though the invitation is there in your embrace, Druig doesn't collapse against you. He breaks the kiss after a moment, stays hovering above you, that same intense consideration in his eyes. Even with all the relaxed gratification spread through your muscles, you go rigid, waiting to brush away the concern, smile away the questions.

He surprises you, though you shouldn't be surprised that your lover can pivot around your prickles after so long together. "Still so tense," Druig comments, dragging a thumb down your hard jaw.

You flush, taken aback when you'd been expecting a question. When you start to look away, he clicks his tongue reprovingly. "Not on you, love. Just means I gotta do a better job, huh?"

Your mouth draws up, but the smile you're trying to put on misses the latch and falls away. "Might be too much for you." A joke, but a warning, too. No matter how good Druig can make you feel in a moment, you're starting to believe it doesn't matter. That you're always going to go back to that dark place. It's happening already.

"Ye of little faith," drawls the man leaned over you, and though he smirks as he says it, you can see a mix of sorrow and determination in the heavy furrow of his eyebrows.

You know Druig, and once the other Eternal decides to walk a road, he doesn’t alter his path easily. Not with the decision to leave Tenochtitlan and you for the humans. Not with rejoining the group, when that nest of Deviants was found more than two hundred years ago. And not now. You’ve learned of Druig’s relentlessness, but you’ve yet to find a way to change his mind once he’s made it.

With his usual lithe poise, still smirking, Druig moves to kneel between your legs, hands resting on the jut of your hips. "Ready to become a believer?" he asks. Challenges, chin high and gaze evaluating.

"Druig..."

When his fingers move to trace along your stomach and then drop lower with silky grace, you're still sensitive from before, and your head falls back, breath halting in your lungs. Fighting to get your oxygen back, you repeat more firmly, "Druig."

His hand stills, and Druig looks at you earnestly. "Say you've had enough today and I'll stop. You know that."

That makes your breath explode out, and you couldn’t have said if it was from frustration or affection. "I know. And I – fuck, I don't want you to stop." The gods knew that to be true, but– "I just..." It's almost physically painful to confess, but his hands are on your skin, drawing you out. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Ah, love," he says, and your heart almost breaks with the sheer adoration in the words. "You could never disappoint me."

Then he's bending to press kisses against your hips, the inside of your thighs, just a touch of teeth in the contact, just enough to make your muscles tremble, your toes curling with anticipation for what's to come. He's decided to do this, no matter if it works or not – and you can't keep resisting.

Your fingers curl in his hair, more for the grounding than for control. But as Druig keeps his lips everywhere but the pulsing of your cunt, you tighten your grip, feeling the scrape of his scalp beneath your demanding fingers. His laugh slides out, just the right shade of taunting to have your heart slamming into your ribs, a new wave of desire pitching over the rim of your control. A moan rips out of you, and he laughs again, huskier this time.

Thankfully, he also takes your cue. Mouth finding your cunt, Druig tongues your dripping folds, his arms wrapping around your legs and holding them open when the sharp stimulation makes them tighten, threatening to close. "Christ," Druig rasps, the vibration of his voice another pleasure added to the mix. "You taste so good, love." The way he sucks on your clit makes you believe him, if the work his tongue is doing didn't already.

"So good," he groans into your pussy, and your breath is somewhere outside your body, certainly not in your lungs. Druig pulls away for a moment to press a few more kisses into your thighs, and the sight is almost enough to make you come right there. Hair messy and sweat-darkened against his forehead, face flushed, and lips stained with your pre-cum, he looks so fucking good that you can't control another moan that rises out of you.

And you're glad you didn't control it, as Druig ruts into the bed at the sound, an eager bid for friction against his groin.

He curses roughly, returns to your cunt, tongue thick and greedy as it shoves into you. One of his hands abandons your leg, slips inside his boxers, and it's your turn to laugh, a breathless exhale.

The laugh turns into a grunt, because Druig's thumb is rubbing your clit while his mouth works elsewhere. He's still touching himself with his other hand, groaning at the taste and sound of you, and the sight combined with his expert tongue turns your nerves into livewires.

It's a broad, sizzling pleasure, deeper in your core than the first time, so deep it feels it might actually be reaching somewhere that matters.

"Druig," you gasp, falter, fighting for the words. "I want you now, now – inside me, please. Please!"

That wasn't the plan, not his plan, anyways, but you don't care, your cunt throbbing to be filled with him. And he's flexible in more ways than one, as he shoves down his boxers at your pleading, kisses your cunt one last time with a tenderness that only sets the aching to a heavier level. Then he's moved himself over you, eyes on your face, drinking in your glazed expression before crushing your mouths together.

A moment later, Druig is entering you, not quite so gentle now, his cock thick and exactly right in how it stretches your cunt out. You arch up into him, relishing the contact, the way his sweat and scent and presence washes over you. He kisses your strangled moans out of your mouth, his tongue swiping across your teeth and stealing the sounds.

In his slow, deep thrusts, in the way he slides so easily into your center, in the way your bodies fit together, there’s another promise fulfilled. Because – with Druig inside you, with his head dropped and lips pressed against your collarbone, with the horrible hollowness filled – you find yourself believing. Only for this moment, this fraction of eternity, but you believe. That this is enough. That with Druig, you can find an answer to the emptiness. That gravity can’t lay a claim to you forever.

Only for this moment, and this moment is enough.

"More," you huff, hands on the small of his back, urging him on. "More, Druig, I want you, I want you!" All of him, filling up the space inside of you, and he does exactly as you ask, strokes going to the hilt of his cock, stretching you out until it feels like the filaments of your body are about to shatter.

You come before him, a combustion in your core that's denser, hotter than your first orgasm. It spills across your muscles like fire over oil, greedily consuming every piece of you. Nails digging into his back, hard enough to leave marks, you cry out, hips rolling to keep the sparks jolting through your body. Sparks literal and figurative, as your power flickers across your skin in volatile lines of light and heat that fuel rather than dispel your pleasure.

The electricity leaps into Druig and amps him up, too, his panting becoming harsher, pupils blown, hands grinding into the bed sheets and all but ripping them off the mattress as he balances himself.

His thrusts become erratic, jarring your hips as you rise up to meet him, welcoming the impact. "Christ, Christ, you're just–"

With a choked groan, Druig comes, spilling himself into you in a gush of warmth and liquid. He bucks several more times, amplifying the thrill in your belly, and you're both so wet there's almost no friction, just the slick slide of his cock against your walls.

When at last his arms spasm and he collapses on top of you, you're both quivering, breath and bodies spent. The current you're generating fizzes and dies, the sudden absence of the lightning more than made up for by the feel of his flushed skin against your own. As is his tendency, he buries his face into the crook of your neck, panting, one hand resting on your chest, feeling your heartbeat under his palm. In turn you run your hand through his hair, stroking the messy strands away from his forehead as you try to catch your breath.

Eventually, as the trembling subsides, he makes to pull out, and you grab his shoulders to keep him still. His questioning eyes find yours, and there's been too much emotion today, early as it is, for you to be embarrassed. "Stay inside me?" you ask quietly. "Just for a bit?"

The cool blue of his gaze softens, and he nods. "I could manage that."

You both twist so that you're lying a little more easily, legs intertwined, heat sultry between you where your bodies are touching - which is almost everywhere. It's not all that comfortable, except it is, because even with Druig soft, barely inside you, there's a sense of presence in the void of your chest, a shade of peace in the silence. With him so close, his limbs draped over you, it's like something besides gravity is weighing you down. Something more solid than your overwhelming sadness.

Holding his hand, you trace the familiar terrain of his knuckles, your thumb brushing over their rough peaks and valleys. After a moment, Druig changes the grip, brings up your clasped hands and kisses your fingers, one at a time.

The morning light spills like honey across his face, and Druig doesn't say anything. He knows you too well. You've known each other for so long, now.

"Druig?" Your lover hums a reply, eyes fixed on you. "I can't talk about it now. But maybe..." Maybe when this trip is finished. Maybe when all the Deviants are dead. Maybe when this is all over and the years have passed and you can find your courage.

Druig fills in your blanks, like he's done for a millennia. "Whenever you're ready," he says, softly, fervently. Another promise. "I'll be here."

And you don't really know what you believe at this point, but you do believe that Druig's promise will last at least as long as gravity does.

#druig #druig x reader #druig x eternal!reader #eternals #mine

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