#thank you for reading and sticking with me!!
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The Alchemy I
jason todd x fem!reader
aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood
warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence
Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.
You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.
Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all.
Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.
You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”
“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative.
You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”
He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.
Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”
His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.
He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”
“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water.
When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.
“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury.
He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.
You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.
You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.
He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.
You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”
He grunts.
You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.
You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.
And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.
You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.
You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.
You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
There’s a short beat.
“Do I seem like someone that worries often?”
You peek your head out of the bathroom door.
You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”
He snorts. “You’re not far off.”
You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”
“I do.”
“I can go in the other room if you—”
He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Okay then.
You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.
You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close.
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.
This guy kills people, right?
You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.
“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes.
The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”
He gives a short hum, thoughtful.
“What?���
“You’re good.” Hardly.
“I didn’t really do anything.”
“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.
He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.
He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.
“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.
You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.
That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.
Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.
You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.
Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.
You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand.
“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”
“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”
“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his.
You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”
“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.
He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.
You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.
He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on.
“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”
“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”
“Right.”
“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”
You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.”
He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not.
“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”
He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.”
“Rest from what?”
A series of gunshots echo from down the street.
“Next question.”
Concise.
You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.
“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.
“Does it matter how I answer?”
“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”
He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”
You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”
“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”
You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”
You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”
“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.
You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.”
You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”
He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”
“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.
He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”
You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”
He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”
“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”
“No.”
You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”
“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”
You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”
“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”
You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”
He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.
Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”
“You could lock your window.”
“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”
“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.
“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.
You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”
You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.
Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse.
The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.
But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.
You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.
“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.
He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”
“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.
“No, I—why are you on the floor?”
You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”
“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot.
You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”
He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”
You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?”
“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.
You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over.
It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.
You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.
It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.
He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”
You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”
“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.
“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”
His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”
You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”
“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.
You wave him off, “It’s fine.”
He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”
You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”
About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.
You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly.
You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.
His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles.
You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”
He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.
“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”
Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.
He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”
You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”
He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.
When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.
So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no.
Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.
Hard yes.
You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.
Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”
“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.
“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”
He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”
You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”
He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.”
You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”
“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch.
You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”
“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated.
You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”
He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.
You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”
You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.
You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.
And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar.
You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.
He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.
You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.
“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”
“I am.” He says shortly.
You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.”
He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”
“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.
“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.”
He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”
You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.
You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”
“What?”
“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”
He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second.
You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.
It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.
You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over.
You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”
He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”
“Wrong line of work.”
He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”
You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?”
He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.”
“Someone does.”
He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.”
Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.
“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing.
Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”
“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”
“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.
“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”
He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”
You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”
His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”
You grin back, pleased with yourself.
There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces.
You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.
You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.
“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”
You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”
“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.
He nods.
“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.”
You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.
“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”
You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”
It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.
You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.
“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.
You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.”
He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”
You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”
He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it.
Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.
“Come on, put your weight behind it.”
You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”
He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.
You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.”
He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”
You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”
“Well, we’ll work on that too.”
You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.
“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”
You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”
“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.
“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.
He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.
You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”
He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at.
You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.
You perk up, “We’re done?”
“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”
Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”
You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”
He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”
You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.
You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down.
“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut.
In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.
He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”
You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”
He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”
You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?”
You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.
He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position.
Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.
You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.
Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.
He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.
He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly.
You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.
“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”
You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.
Alright, one step at a time.
#jason todd loves this stranger#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd x you#red hood imagine#red hood x reader#red hood x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd x y/n#jason todd/you#jason todd/reader#jason todd fanfiction#red hood fanfic#red hood fanfiction#dc x you#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction#jason todd loves his gf
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For the 2k event I would love to see football player!taehyun x cheerleader! Y/N and idc what the scenario is I would just love to see some spicy smut 🥵🥵 thank you!
[2K Masterlist]
"How not to scare off the stupid flirt that won’t leave you alone."
football player!Taehyun x fem!cheerleader!reader // wc: 5.7K // genre: college au, one-sided enemies to lovers, smut, MDNI.
warnings: i glanced over it does that count as a proof read, slight himbo tyun, (?!) mans a munch, switchy/kinda sub leaning service top! tyun (!!!?), switchy/dom leaning! mc, strength kink, degrading, praise, oral (f. rec.), dry humping, hair pulling, begging, bondage, creampies, overstimulation, lmk if i should add anything!
notes: went just a bit overboard rawr
Taehyun— star player of the football team, a total womanizer and flirt— has taken an interest in you.
It was only a matter of time before he set his sights on you, wasn’t it? The cute cheerleader who was nothing short of energetic and endearing, waving your pom poms excitedly and sporting a bright smile on your face that never ceased at every game— you were easily the smartest person there, given a full-ride scholarship and spending your weekdays cooped up in the library studying, a complete switch from the preppy persona you put on display for the students and families in the bleachers, never giving anyone the time of day and focusing solely on your studies— in short, you were entirely unattainable.
Which only served to entice Taehyun more.
You never gave in to any of Taehyun’s advances— every wave, greeting, or call of your name was strictly ignored; any attempts to be friendly with you were thrown straight into the gutter by a single glare of yours, and Taehyun found himself lucky on the days you would even look at him willingly.
Of course, your withering glares and upturned nose as you walked away from every approach would have any sane person tucking their tail and giving up immediately— but Taehyun wasn’t just anyone, and he found that it was quite fun to try and rile you up whenever he saw you— in and out of uniform— and it made his friends wonder if he was simply a masochist.
“Dude, she looks like she’s ready to blow you up with her mind every time she sees you,” Yeonjun told him once, recounting the way you sneered at Taehyun the moment he tried to interact with you after the game, yet another successful win under their belts, “you mean to tell me you’re into that?”
Taehyun never bothered to deny such accusations; why would he, when he felt himself smile a little wider every time you told him to get lost, or would feel himself eager to chase after you when you would simply turn on your heel and walk the opposite direction whenever you made eye-contact with him? And if he spent nights staying up and thinking about the way your bright smile lit up the stadium and the bow on your head would bounce cutely with each stunt you performed, that was no one else’s business but his own.
To Taehyun, you were the most refreshing part of every game; to you, Kang Taehyun was a stupid tick you just couldn’t get rid of.
All charming smiles and smooth flirty lines— you were warned of him by your team, you knew that he was nothing but trouble the moment the rumors of his reputation started swimming around from ear to ear— a cocky D1 athlete that couldn’t stick to a single girl for more than a few days.
So how is it possible that he’s still bothering you? He’s been after you since the season started, following you around dumbly and trying to get you to cave with even dumber lines you know he’s used on other girls. You never even bothered to bat an eye at him— you’ve never spoken to him past a snide remark telling him to get lost; you’ve shown negative interest in him, but even so, you still catch him staring at you with stars in his eyes.
“Hey,” Taehyun says, managing to catch you after the home game has ended; still in your full face of makeup, so tired that you haven’t even bothered to change out of your uniform yet— you sneer on instinct, turning on your heel and walking the opposite way you were heading, even if it meant taking the farther exit— but Taehyun simply runs after you, not fazed in the slightest at your behavior, “Great game today, right? You guys were awesome. Your routines were super cool.”
“They’re the same ones we’ve been doing for a while now.” you comment dryly, tugging your duffle bag’s strap over your shoulder more; Oh, you can hear Taehyun mumble softly— you wonder if this is the moment he decides it's no longer worth it to pursue you. But again— things are never that simple for you.
“Still, I just never get tired of watching you.”
You falter; Taehyun senses it, just like you sense his searing gaze on your face.
“You’re not supposed to be watching me,” is all you’re able to say, albeit softly, a lot weaker than your usual dismissive tone.
“I know,” Taehyun hums softly, tilting his head as he continues to watch you, analyzing your expression acutely, “it’s just hard not to.”
Alright, you find yourself thinking, coming to a complete halt the moment you feel your heart fluttering hopelessly, this has to stop.
“Wow. Smooth,” you say apathetically, pursing your lips in distaste and observing the man before you— his relaxed, cocky demeanor, the lazy smile that pulls at his lips, his head that tilts curiously, grown out hair covering his eyes and hiding what he might be thinking— and you scoff, voice dripping with distaste as you continue, “how many girls has that line worked on already?”
“None. One, maybe,” Taehyun quickly says, taking a step closer to you, until you’re able to smell him, the natural musk mixed with the fading scent of his cologne, “if she decides to give me a chance.”
Your lips press together, your face unimpressed; he raises a brow at you, as though asking for an answer— swiftly, you roll your eyes and ignore his silent queues.
“Not happening.” you’re turning around again, your pace must faster now, “go bother someone else who’s willing to be part of your roster.”
“I don’t want someone else,” Taehyun groans, jogging after you and placing himself in front of you, just so you’ll actually give him the time of day, “I just want you.”
“Oh really?” you laugh mockingly, entirely unconvinced by this act he seems to be putting up, “So if I fuck you, will you finally stop throwing a tantrum over something you can’t have?”
He’s stunned; with hands on your hips, you step closer to him, getting up in his face as you continue to taunt him.
“Are you gonna get bored and dump me after? Hmm?” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and taking a step back— Taehyun remains bewildered. “You’re probably not even worth it, actually.”
Just like he did earlier, you raise a brow; mocking him, waiting for him to respond as you tap your foot impatiently— instead, he remains silent, eyes scanning your face, as though waiting for you to say something else— you roll your eyes and shake your head, more than ready to push past him and finally go shower in the comfort of your own apartment.
Your shoulder almost pushes against Taehyun’s body as you go to leave— but you’re stopped in your tracks before you can get the last say, a strong grip on your bicep keeping you still and turning your body around roughly— your duffle bag swings and the strap falls down your arm at the action.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Taehyun says, leering down at you with dark eyes— he’s irritated, teeth gritted and brows knitted together as he speaks.
“Awh, is your ego wounded now?” you ask, pouting and batting your eyes at him, feeling his fingers dig into your skin as a result, “does it hurt your big macho pride to get rejected?”
Taehyun doesn’t say anything to that— his eyes seem to do the talking for him, narrowed dangerously at you, but even so, you still don’t care to take the hint.
“Or— don’t tell me,” you make a point to lower your voice to a whisper, looking around skeptically for anyone else that could hear— but, the stadium was empty at this point, “did I hit too close to home? Oh no, are you that bad of a fuck?”
Taehyun’s jaw is clenched; he takes one look at your pouting, pitied face, at his fingertips that dig into the muscle of your bicep, and inhales slowly— and with one last glance around the area, he turns away and begins to roughly tug you along.
“Woah— hey– hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing—?!”
You’re yelling and bitching at him, slapping at his shoulder and calling him names he could never come up with himself— and yet, you stumble along, refusing to take your arm out of his loosening grip— your actions speak louder than your (abrasive yet creative, Taehyun will admit) words; you’re curious, and Taehyun can already picture the look on your face the moment he finally brings the two of you into the empty locker room he previously raced out of just to look for you.
“What the hell man?” you yell, allowing yourself to be tugged further into the room, straight to a secluded corner that you immediately get backed up in; his hands are on your shoulders as he presses you firmly against the metal lockers, your back arching to get away from the uncomfortable feeling— he’s got you caged in with his body, unable to do anything more than press your hands against his chest in an attempt to keep your distance. You reluctantly take note of how firm his muscles feel.
“What’s your deal?” you roll your eyes, noticing that he has yet to explain himself, resorting to glaring down at you with his stupid, big brown eyes, “Is this all you can do? Don’t know how to use your big boy words so you resort to force instead?”
“I should be asking you the same thing,” he suddenly says, his voice quiet and restrained as he eyes you carefully; your eyes widen, as though you weren’t actually expecting him to say anything, “all that talk for someone that doesn’t wanna be here.”
Your body heats up instantly at his words; you feel like a fish out of water with the way your mouth opens and closes, trying to find your rebuttal yet faltering under the heat of his gaze— he looks pissed, as though he’ll pounce on you the moment you say something wrong.
“I don’t,” you finally say, the words not as confident as you wish they were, “you were the one that dragged me here.”
“Really?” he asks, raising a brow at the way you scoff and glare at him, standing your ground even if you both know you’re lying; his hands fall from your shoulders and he takes a step back, watching as you simply remain there, shocked.
“Then leave.”
The look on his face is much too smug for your liking. He crosses his arms and smirks, taking another step back and nodding to the other side of the room, telling you that “the exit’s over there.”
You take a step forward, only to hesitate. Your eyes narrow at the sight of him, deep in thought before you finally kiss your teeth in distaste.
“God, you’re so fucking insufferable.”
Taehyun doesn’t get a chance to say anything to that because you’re all but leaping onto him after— you’re taking hastes steps to him and your hand reaches out for his nape, digging into his hair before pulling him in towards you for a kiss; to say he was expecting this would be a lie, but he’s more than prepared to melt into you anyway.
You’re nothing like the sweet and innocent persona you put up for the stadium; you’re insatiable, kissing Taehyun like you were starving, a hand reaching up to place itself on his chest, the feeling welcomed until he realizes something— you’re pushing him back, and before he knows it, he’s the one slamming back into the lockers.
His hand falls onto your hip, the other coming up to cup your jaw; his fingers wander endlessly, going from the pleats of your skirt to the elastic waistband, sly fingertips sneaking beneath before he’s pulling away and reaching down to cup your ass— he’s groaning into your mouth at the feeling, your teeth sinking in retaliation to him groping you like a bitch in heat.
Taehyun’s mind is racing a million miles a minute; he never actually thought he’d get here, but now that he did, he’s found himself to be feeling ridiculously antsy— he wants to feel you, take his time to memorize every detail of you, but he also wants to perform ever fantasy he’s ever had about you, bad.
And if he thinks he’s good at masking his desperation from you, he’s wrong. Very, very wrong. You could feel it from the way he kissed you back to the way his dick hardened in what you think is record time, his motions growing hasty as he couldn’t stop feeling you up, as though he’d die if he didn’t go from venturing up your shirt to grabbing at your ass, going back and forth and fucking up your balance completely— at this point, Taehyun was only left against the lockers because you were full on leaning on him.
When you pull away from the kiss, lips swollen and entirely out of breath, Taehyun chases after you; his eyes are low lidded and dazed as he looks at you, confused on why you look at him as though you’ll start laughing any second now.
“Where’s that smooth guy from earlier?” you taunt, punctuating your words by pressing yourself firmly against him, listening to the quiet hiss you get in return, “you almost made me think that your reputation was actually true.”
God, he’s so predictable. You can barely hold back the smile that tugs at your lips, watching Taehyun’s reaction intently; it was like a light finally turned on in his head, glassed over eyes finally becoming conscious as he blinks at you, words registering in his head and grip slowly become harsher; his hand falls from your face and down to the small of your back, pulling you close and raising a confused brow at you.
“What reputation?” he asks, the faux innocence making you roll your eyes.
“Oh y’know, just some girls saying shit. That you fuck the living daylights out of them, or whatever,” your hand that was braced against his chest trails up, fingertips going to the underside of his chin to flick his head up playfully— his eyes are pinned on you the entire time, and you giggle mockingly. “But all I see here is a horny teen that gets hard over a little bit of kissing.”
You’re baiting him— it’s so obvious and you both know it, but that doesn’t stop Taehyun from biting the said bait shamelessly, dark eyes glaring daggers at you challengingly as stares you down.
It all happens too quickly for you to process; your positions are being flipped around yet again and your back is slamming into the lockers, letting out a small yelp at the feeling— but it’s all washed out by the sight of Taehyun falling to his knees, pushing your legs open before he’s settling himself between them comfortably— his eyes sparkle under the lights as he looks up at you, the crude contrasting bringing a wave of heat throughout your body.
“You have no idea how long I wanted to do this,” Taehyun rasps, grabbing your leg before he’s lifting it up, feeling your hand on his shoulder at the unexpected action; he merely chuckles, placing slow, wet kisses from your inner knee before he begins to trail in— once he’s at your inner thighs, he slings your leg over his shoulder leisurely, sucking and biting at the skin before mumbling against it, “fucking dreamed about this.”
His words are pathetically effective— your panties feel uncomfortably stuck to your cunt, and the anticipation of feeling Taehyun’s mouth there definitely isn’t helping.
“Bullshit,” you grit, your free hand reaching down to lace into his hair; your nails scratch along his scalp and pull at his roots, and Taehyun shivers at the feeling, “god, do your other hookups like it when you say this shit?”
Beneath your skirt, he shakes his head, fingertips digging into your thighs at the thought. You’re trying to provoke him, it’s obvious, yet Taehyun can’t help but get irritated at the fact that you seem to be focusing on everything but him.
“You’re the only one I’ve ever talked to like this,” he says, pulling out from under your skirt to bring your panties down, dragging them slowly until they’re finally off— you note with wide eyes that he immediately pockets them. “I’m usually not much of a talker.”
“But if you hate it that much, I can be quiet,” he murmurs, beginning to go back to your cunt again, bunching your skirt at your hips so you can get a good view of him— his doe eyes flicker up at you, and you swear he must know what that does to you as he continues. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”
The dry laugh you let out comes out shaky and breathy; his affect on you is so obvious, yet you still seem to want to hide it all under this persona of yours, digging your heel in his back and tilting your hips closer to his face— he oggles at how visibly wet you are, a soft hiss leaving his lips as you pull at his hair, not giving him a chance to react before you’re pushing him in to where you need him the most.
If you’re finally gonna give in to this stupid student athlete, it’s going to be on your terms. At least that’s what you tell yourself, a shaky moan escaping you and your grip tightening on Taehyun’s hair— he really doesn’t want to waste any time, you note.
His mouth feels like heaven; he’s quick to lick a stripe across your cunt, tongue digging at your needy hole before he comes up to your clit, licking at it teasingly until he finally hears you whine. His lips are soft and plump as he places messy kisses at your clit, his hands digging into your thighs in an attempt to stop you from shifting around so much— if anything, his bruising grip only serves to rip out another moan from you.
“S-shit, Taehyun— just like that, ah,” your moans are just as pretty as you— Taehyun feels like he’s in a daze as he presses closer against you, sucking your clit harshly and listening to the sweet whine you let out— he can feel his cock twitching pathetically in his pants, hips bucking at the air as his mouth moves down to your entrance.
“Fuck!” your eyes screw shut as you feel Taehyun’s tongue enter you, the tip of his nose pressing against your clit as he nuzzles into your cunt, as though he could get further inside your pussy. The sighs and grunts he lets out aren’t lost on your ears either, cunt clenching desperately against him as you begin to wriggle out of his grip without realizing.
“Mmmh, pretty face was meant to get fucked,” you groan out, the words slipping out of you without control. Your hips rock and grind against him, dazed eyes watching as his hold on you loosens and his tongue lolls out; watery eyes flicker back up to look at you, glowing from your compliment.
Taehyun thinks that he could die happily like this. Your cunt is so sweet, so wet, the glide of it against his face enough to have him throbbing painfully in his pants. His jaw aches and it’s getting hard for him to breathe, but even then he refuses to stop— the sight of you is like a dream come true for him to pull away now.
You’re so close— it’s evident by the way your hips start bucking against his face harshly, nails digging into his scalp as you push him closer, impossibly close— your mouth is left open, soft moans turning into curses as your leg tries to hook him in further, pressing against the firm muscles of his back— Taehyun’s eyes flutter shut, and before he can really second guess himself, he pulls away.
The wet sound of his mouth leaving your dripping cunt should have you curling away and cringing in embarrassment. Instead, the only thing you can muster is a cry of his name, the sound venomous and disappointed as you glare down at the boy.
“Sorry,” he says, voice broken and raspy, a panting and blushing mess, “I just— fuck, I need you.”
You’re left speechless at his desperation— but Taehyun doesn’t seem to mind, getting back up to his feet before he’s grabbing at your waist and leaning in to kiss you; you can feel how hard he is against you, and it allows you to snap into your senses as you go up to place your hands against his chest once more; pulling away, you push against him in order to get him to walk— he obeys immediately.
“Geez, you give a guy a chance and he starts acting like a little virgin,” you sneer, noting with a flip of your stomach that Taehyun only grins, unaffected by your jab. You’ve led him to the edge of the bench set in the middle of this small area, pressing down on his shoulders and getting him to sit down; he watches with stars in his eyes as you straddle his lap, sitting your dripping cunt over his bulge firmly. “Am I gonna have to put in all the work here?”
“I mean,” Taehyun trails off, his hands finding purchase on your ass and beginning to guide you to rock against him; his teeth sink into his lip and his eyes darken as he takes in the sight, drawing a gasp out of you as he bucks his hips up. Looking back up at you, his face is happy and sweet. “You really don’t have to. But it’s kinda hot to get bossed around by you though— just thought you were more into that.”
Your jaw ticks. Without warning, you push him down against the bench, hovering over him and placing your hands on his waistband as you begin to undo his jeans.
“Quite a weird way to try and play off that you’re my bitch,” you grit out, tugging at his boxers and watching his cock spring out— he groans, hips bucking up at the feeling, his tip a pretty pink that throbs and leaks pathetically.
Taehyun laughs softly, watching with awe as you spit in your palm and slowly begin to stroke him; his head falls back and his eyes screw shut, noting with coy satisfaction that your hand doesn’t fully wrap around him.
“Yeah, I’m your bitch,” he sighs out, his hands flying to your waist and getting him to sit on his thighs, “fuck, you’re too good at this.”
God, he’s so stupid; giving in to all your taunts without much of a fight, sucked in entirely by the feeling of your hand that pumps his length so slowly, tightening your hold on him and twisting, squeezing his tip teasingly— his hands reach up to cover his face before he can stop himself, pretty hands obscuring his heated face and parted lips that let out soft sighs of pleasure.
“Don’t hide from me now,” you say, reaching up to pry his hands away, his eyes fluttering open before locking with yours, “you look so good like this.”
His eyes widen, the tips of his ears reddening with a cute blush; your praise is so unfamiliar, yet it renders him weak and needy for more, reaching out to grab your waist to scoot you up more— your cunt is touching his length by the time you scold him to stop, though he doesn’t seem to care much for your orders as he begins to fuck his hips against you.
“C’mon, just fuck me already,” he groans, your eyes as big as saucers as he continues to whine and beg. “Aren’t you supposed to like, use me and stuff?”
This… is not what you were expecting from him.
You’re sure the words are written across your face too, the incredulous look you give him making him shrink slightly, as though he was just now realizing what he was saying.
But before he can backtrack and say something monumentally stupid to cancel it out, you grin, hovering over his lap and grabbing at his cock, lining it up with your entrance and taking in the way he visibly shudders.
“You sound so cute when you’re begging,” you say, running his tip along your slit, allowing it to collect your growing arousal, the sound loud to both of you, “y’know, I would’ve given you a chance much earlier if you acted all nice and cute like this from the start.
“That player persona of yours wasn’t really my thing.”
The head of his cock finally breaches your entrance; Taehyun moans at the feeling of you finally sinking on him, able to feel the way he stretches you out the further you take him in, wet and warm walls fluttering with each gentle push.
“Mmh,” your brows are furrowing at the feeling, not expecting him to be so damn thick— but you took him in regardless, putting on an apathetic front even if you were on the verge of melting on top of him— you can feel him twitch inside you, a weak whimper escaping you as his hands dig into your thighs, digging into the flesh cruelly once he finally bottoms out.
“God, you’re fucking perfect,” Taehyun breathes out, hissing through his teeth once you finally start moving; your hips are methodical, your movements cruelly calculated as you rise slowly, leaving him waiting for a second before you slam back down— his legs jump, your body bouncing from the motion.
You can’t help but laugh at the sight of him; he’s the definition of fucked out, sweat that beaded at his hairline causing strands of hair to stick to his skin, chest heaving and teeth digging into his lips with every bounce on his cock— when you start to set a pace, you note with annoyance that Taehyun just can’t stop trying to take over, his hands traveling to your waist to try and guide you, his hips fucking up to meet your pace. It’s endearing, for a moment, but then you find that he begins to get too handsy, his hands now lost underneath your shirt and trailing over your breasts curiously.
“Okay now, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” you chide condescendingly, stopping your pace and sinking onto him, your weight fully on him as you swat his hands off. Taehyun begins to protest immediately, groaning about how mean and unfair you’re being. His hands attempt to go back to your waist, but you slap them off again, giving him a glare that makes him pout at you.
Thoughts on how to get him to listen to you course through your mind, unsure of what to do until one hits you like a freight train.
Taehyun watches in confusion as you reach for your hair, unsure of what to make of the sly smile on your face— it’s only once he sees the pretty bow unravel from your head that his eyes widen in understanding.
“Oh no,” he mutters, your smile only growing wider as you reach for his hands— he retaliates, bringing his wrists together and just outside your reach, “oh hell no, c’mon!”
“Give me your hands,” you huff, lips pressing together in annoyance as he shakes his head and puts them over his head instead, just out of your reach, “give me your hands or I walk out right now.”
Taehyun knows how you are. You’re completely serious about that.
“C’monnnn,” he groans, reluctantly offering his hands out for you to take. He watches with a petulant look as you wrap the ribbon around his wrists, tying them together so quickly he’s barely able to process what you’re doing, “please, I just wanna touch you.”
You ignore him, adding the final touch with careful hands; the bow on his wrists is just as pretty as the proud smile on your face, he notes bitterly.
“Perfect,” you murmur to yourself, pushing his bound hands against his chest, holding onto them for leverage as you begin to move again; you can practically see all the thoughts leave his mind as he feels you around him, sucking him in and clenching with each prod against your sweet spot, hips angling so you’re hitting it perfectly.
With a cruel curiosity, you shift on top of him, a hand holding his wrists down while the other drags his shirt up— though expected, you can’t help but whistle at the sight, running a hand over his abs, watching eagerly as he flinches from the contact. Without much of a thought, you bend down to place a kiss on his stomach, laughing at the soft whine you get in return. Sitting back up, you go back to the pace you set before, satisfied by the flustered man you see beneath you.
Your nails are digging into his wrists; the orgasm he took from you is quickly building back up, your lips swollen and shining from how bitten they are— your cunt gushes around him, a ring beginning to form at the base of his length; Taehyun’s eyes roll back at the sight.
The pretty moans you’re letting out and the tight grip your pussy has on him is making it impossible for him to last— he’s only a bit behind you as you feel your knees begin to become weak, your pace inconsistent as you grind on him in search of more.
“M���close… fuck…” you breathe out, hovering over Taehyun and caging him in— the roles have been reversed now, your elbows on each side of his head holding you up as you press yourself against him, your pace agonizingly slow as you lean down to kiss him— it’s sloppy and neither of you are entirely in your right minds, pathetically moaning into each other’s mouths the closer to your peak you get.
It’s nice to feel the heat of your body against his, but what you’re doing now simply isn’t enough for Taehyun. And though he knows you strictly forbade him, he can’t help himself from reaching down to grab your side, startling you and forcing you to sit up in confusion.
“Sorry, I just— I’m so close, I need more,” he says, fingers digging into your side and thighs flexing beneath you— his brows furrow in concentration and next thing you know, he’s fucking up into you.
The yelp you let out only makes Taehyun’s cock twitch inside you— you sound so good like this, overwhelmed and ruined, unable to stop or control the way he bucks his hips up into you, his hands on your side forcing you to come down on him with every thrust— you’re falling forward and pressing down on his chest in an attempt to not lay on him entirely, and Taehyun thinks that he might’ve just gotten the sight of you bouncing on top of him ingrained into his mind now.
“Oh fuck, you keep fucking squeezing me— are you close? Yeah? I am too,” he moans, watching as you hang your head and dig your nails into his skin— you’re both soooo close, Taehyun can feel it— and before he can second guess himself, words spill from his mouth in a desperate haste.
“Can I cum inside you?” he asks, your eyes snapping open at the question— they meet his stupid, shiny round eyes, turned completely glassy as he tilts his head, his pace never ceasing for a second. “Can I, can I please? You’re so pretty, feel so good, c’mon, just wanna fill you up like you deserve—”
“Shit, yeah,” you whine, not needing much convincing in the first place to agree. “Fill me up, c’mon tyunnie, wanna be full—!”
The sound of the cute nickname coming from you sets Taehyun off instantly; his cock bottoms out and his hand slams your body down, your faint gasp barely registering in his mind as he finally cums— and it’s so much, spurts and spurts of warm cum filling you up and setting you off seconds after.
When Taehyun feels your cunt fluttering around him, he helps you ride it out; even if it means his eyes get watery and his cock hurts with every thrust into you. He still does it, the overstimulation a small price to pay for being able to watch you fall apart on top of him, moaning out his name so nicely that he never wants it to be said by anyone that’s not you from now on.
You’re an out of breath, sweaty mess by the time you finally come to your senses— well, kind of. You’d still rather not accept that womanizing student athlete Taehyun finally succeeded in getting in your pants. Maybe now he’ll finally leave you alone; you try to ignore the disappointed pang you get in your stomach from the thought.
Beneath you, Taehyun simply pants, eyes closed in a sweet bliss; when they open back up, he looks at you with such fondness you can’t help but startle.
“Can I take you out on a date?”
Your eyes widen, and you try to pretend as though the question doesn’t immediately lift up your mood. (Though the way your lips quirk up in an amused smile is definitely a giveaway.)
“You ask this now?” you say, crossing your arms and letting out a soft tsk, “I feel like it’s supposed to go the other way around.”
Taehyun smiles, and you can’t resist the contagious sight.
“I know. Sorry for being so irresistible.”
Your smile drops.
“Just for that, I’m saying no.”
“Waitwaitwait—” You make a move to get off Taehyun, but are stopped immediately with his hands on your side, forcing you to stay put the best you can— he tugs you back into him, cradling your face and ignoring your protests to let go.
“I lied, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he coos, smiling at the way you continue to glare at him; so cute, he thinks, unable to stop himself from craning his neck up and placing a peck on your lips— you melt instantly, giggling softly and placing a peck of your own on the tip of his nose.
“I’ll see you after practice then.”
#txt fanfic#txt fanfiction#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt ff#txt x reader#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#taehyun smut#taehyun ff#taehyun imagines#taehyun oneshot#taehyun x reader#taehyun fanfic#taehyun fanfiction#[2K event!]#[the mic is yours]#[nsfw]
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Hii, i love your fics smm <3
Can you write about jj or jude eating you out and you get a call trying to keep quiet?
Thank youuu<3
yess anon thank you !! its jj thoo, and btw rafe is the readers brother so you dont get confused
"holy fuck!” you cried out, jj moved his tongue around your clit, teasing you as his tongue dipped in and out.
“you like that?” he asked, all you could do was whimper out as both his hands were pre occupied with rubbing your clit and pushing slighting on your lower stomach.
he slows when you dont answer, “use your words sweetheart,"
“i-i, oh fuck, shit, yes- yes i fucking like it!” right as the words left your mouth, a vibrating ringtone along with a bright screen fills the room, “jj, i- i have to answer it!" trying to musk up all your strength looking at the phone that read 'rafe'.
“so answer it?” jj chuckles, he slightly slows his movements, his hand is swept away from your stomach. “i won’t be able to, feels good jj!” you cry. the phone rings twice more before jj answers it in annoyance, then handing it to you,
“h-hello?” you manages to get out while jj resumes his past actions, now dipping three large, long fingers into your hole,
“when are you coming home?.” rafe asked through the phone. jj sped up his motions and you bit your lip, worried that your brother on the other line might hear.
“umm.. fuck! ummm, in an hour or t-two!" jj smirks against your cunt now speeding up the three fingers and using his tongue,
“a’ight, just asking. bye."
“oh-oh okay, see you then, bye-” the line clicks and you grind against jjs face trying to catch up to your long delayed orgasm.
“cum for me baby, doing so good for me," jj praises,
just at those words you release all over jjs face & fingers. keeping eye contact, jj eases out his fingers and sticks them in your mouth,
“jayj! you couldve got me caught! thats rafe!” you whine around his fingers, jj shrugs it off nonchalantly.
after everything jj will just clean you up and give you a little bath with bath bombs :(((
#::anon::#obx#outer banks#jj maybank#rudy pankow#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#rudy pankow x reader#rudy pankow x y/n#jj maybank imagine#jj mayback x reader#jj mayback imagine#rudyswhore#rudy pankow smut#rambles
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The List ~Pt. 10 - Convergence~
Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader
Summary: The fight with Vox triggers memories of your life on Earth, but a familiar voice calls to you. When you wake, you find an unexpected hand has helped you but of course their aid comes with a catch. More secrets are brought to light and you must choose whose side you're truly on.
Themes: Huge warning for depictions of war/ bombings/ injuries/ death. With everything going on in the world I understand if it is hard to read so feel free to skip the ~8 ish paragraphs.
The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, actual plot, mentions of blood/bodily harm, slow burn, Lucifer can't take a hint, Alastor is full of surprises, eventual smut, and of course 18+
3k Words
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 (You're on it!)
**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader
Like a movie, you watch different places around the world flash before your eyes. Each scene, you’re surrounded by the same small group of people. A feeling of pride filled your body when you looked at them. Are these people my family? They feel like it. You knew you’d do anything to protect them.
~~I’m here love…
A final flash puts you at an eerily familiar scene. You sit at the end of a small table, watching everyone laughing, eating, singing - just enjoying the down time together. The sound of an air siren puts an immediate silence over the tent. All eyes snap to you, waiting for your guidance. You stand from your chair, “Alright just like training guys, take your assigned positions around the camp and keep a clear - “, ringing pierces your ears as everything goes black.
~~You’re stronger than this…
In what feels like a second, you are lying face down on the warm ground. How long was I down for? Pushing yourself to your knees, you watch blood from your face make little droplets in the dirt below you. Dust and smoke fill the air, burning your lungs when you try to take a breath. Fuck…Where is everyone? You look at what remains of the camp around you. Piles of brick, wood, and rock litter the area. The night around you is hauntingly silent, interrupted only by the occasional pop of electricity from what remained of the generators. As the dust begins to settle, you’re able to make out multiple sets of boots under rubble nearby. No…no...no…no please...
You attempt to run towards them but stumble back to the ground. A mix of dirt and blood coat the front of your uniform. Other than the pain in your side, you have no way of knowing the true extent of your injuries as a numbness washes over you.
~~Fight…please my dear…
Sounds of tumbling brick and coughing distract you from your self-evaluation. You crawl towards the sound and find a man trying to sit up, pushing away the rubble that buried his lower body. “Thank God, you have no idea how relieved I am to - “, an involuntary gasp leaves your mouth when you see the piece of metal sticking right through him.
He half-heartedly laughs, “I was going to make some smartass comment like - How bad is it doc? Think I’ll be home for dinner? - but uh…I think that answered my question.” Fucker always had to make jokes, even the face of death.
“No it’s not..It’s not that bad. I just need to find my bag, I can stop the bleeding….just…k-keep talking to me.” Your hands fumble across his chest. You try to apply pressure while your eyes frantically scan the area for your medical bag, but Lord only knows where it ended up after the explosion.
~~Please…we need you…
Warmth continues to spread under you, his blood now staining your hands and arms. He grabs your hands, stopping your efforts and gently setting them on his face, “Don’t do this - ya know how it’s going to end.” A single tear slips past your lashes and down your cheek. His breathing begins to labor, “Hey now boss lady, no cryin’. We all knew what we signed up for. This ain’t your fault.”
~~I need you…
A deafening sound fills the air followed by a blinding flash of white light.
Your eyes bolt open as you sit up gasping for air. Alastor nearly jumps out of his chair, hastily sitting himself behind you in bed to wrap his body around yours, “I’m here, dear. Breathe. You’re safe.” You try to relax in his arms while your mind reels. Was that a dream? A memory? Is that…how I died?
You look down remembering the fight with Vox. Other than a few blood stained cotton bandages, you appear to be mostly healed. “How -?” you begin to ask. Alastor tightens his grip on you, making you wince from the pressure on your still healing wounds. “Please…just…give me a moment.” he begs quietly into your neck. You feel his chest rise and fall against you with ragged breaths. If it was anyone other than Alastor, you would think he was crying.
Gentle sounds from the wooded bayou fill the room. After a few moments, he breaks the peaceful silence, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” he breathes through a raspy voice. You lean your head back to look up at the demon. He looked just as rough as he did that night in the tower.
You bring your hand to his cheek and pull him into a tender embrace against your lips. He sighs into your mouth as his body relaxes. He needed to feel you, to know you weren’t gone. The corners of your mouth curl into a smile, “I don’t know how but I heard your voice…through the darkness you were calling to me. Even as I dreamt of my life on Earth.” Alastor huffs amusingly, “My dear, I never left your side. Charlie said talking to you might help. I thought it was silly really but I was willing to try anything. Good to know my efforts weren’t in vain.”
Alastor delicately brushes his fingers through your hair, “I didn’t think it was possible to feel something worse than the initial fall into Hell, but you seem to enjoy keeping me on my toes. As much as I hate to say it, you might not have made it if Lucifer hadn’t -”
“Lucifer!?” you yell in surprise at how casually Alastor mentions him, “Why would he bother saving me?” A few taps on the door interrupt before you can get an answer. Without waiting for a response, Lucifer walks into the room, “Ah good you’re awake.” he chirps casually.
You swing yourself to the edge of the bed in an attempt to stand but Alastor keeps a firm hold on your hips, slotting you between his legs to keep you sitting. He scolds quietly in your ear “Easy love, let’s not move too quickly. You’re still healing.”
Lucifer makes his way across the room, puffing his chest out arrogantly as he leans against his cane, “There were only a few wounds I couldn’t get completely healed but you seem to be a strong one! Of course someone had their doubts.” he glares at Alastor, lip nearing a snarl.
He did help when he didn’t need to, ulterior motives or not I should be grateful. You muster a smile and cool tone, “Well you did wonderful, sir. I am feeling pretty good to be honest. Thank you. I suppose I owe you.” What the fuck did I just say?
Alastor exhales against your neck and digs his fingertips into your sides, making you curse at him under your breath. It didn’t help how smug Lucifer suddenly looked. He nonchalantly fiddles with his suit, “Well we do have some private matters to discuss. If you’re feeling up to it of course.” No but do I have a choice?
“Sure! What’s going on?”
“I uh - would prefer there to not be an audience, if you don’t mind.” Lucifer shuffles his cane to his other hand. Your chest hitches at the request. I rather not be alone with this man right now. Alastor notices your apprehension, “Anything you have to discuss can be said in my company. You have quite a nasty habit of putting your hands - amongst other things - where they don’t belong.” his tone cut with such sharpness even the well collected King looked visibly uncomfortable. You feel him disappear from behind you only to reappear in a chair by the fire behind Lucifer, “You may continue sir.”
Lucifer scoffs but doesn’t speak right away. You fumble nervously with your hands as his eyes burn into you. Chills creep across your skin from the tension filling the room.
“Soooooo - what did you need to speak about, sir?” you ask wearily, wanting to get this conversation over with. “I told you to call me Lucifer,” he takes a seat next to you on the bed, “And I think you know damn well what we need to talk about.” his once sickeningly sweet voice now harsh with ire.
Cool, nothing like pissing off the King of Hell. You try to hide the anxiety building in your chest, “Lucifer, I appreciate your offer from the other day however I am staying here. With the sinners and with Alastor. I am capable of -”
“Yes, yes - you looked quite capable as you were dying in my arms just a few nights ago!” he bites, “Do you think you’re of any use to the people you claim to want to help if you’re dead? Do you think he will actually support you in your efforts?” his eyes dart to the demon across the room.
“Oh and you will!? You want to keep me like a pet in your little castle! Remind me, how did wanting such things from Lilith turn out for you?”
An unsettling smile crosses his face, making a pit form in your stomach, “You tread on thin ice my dear. If you wish to take low blows, fine. You’re naive to think he actually loves you. You said yourself, he just wants to use you -”
“I was wrong. I was only naive to think you did not want to use me.” you interrupt plainly. R̷͈̈u̸̦͌l̸͍̍e̴͔̅ ̷͉͛#̸̗͒1̶͍͂ ̵̮̐B̵̬̊e̷͖͐ ̵̡́o̵̡̿p̵͎͂e̴̢̋n̷̡̆ ̵͚̋t̵͕͠o̵͔̽ ̵̺̉t̶̰͗ȓ̴̠ů̷̹s̶̩̄t̴̙̅,̸̈́͜ ̶͉̓b̶̘͗ǔ̵̮t̶̯̂ ̸̝̿n̴̳̍ȅ̷͔ṿ̵̀e̴̗̾r̸̨̔ ̵̻͒ḑ̶̾ǫ̴̉ ̴͎̉ś̴̤ō̴̩ ̴̣̒b̶͉͠ḻ̸͗i̶̳̽ṋ̷̀d̶͉͒ĺ̵̘y̸̙̕
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, “I - I don’t know what you mean. I - I saved you. I protected you when - when he couldn’t. Of course I would have never allowed you to get hurt in the first place.” Alastor clears his throat and shifts in his chair, using every ounce of restraint to not lose his tongue. His eyes pinpoint to Lucifer through a sharp grin.
I’m not the only one on thin ice here. “I appreciate you helping me, truly. But I think we both know deep down…you’re scared. You’re weaker than you let on. Locking yourself away, ignoring your duties. Without Lilith you’ve become just a shell of the ruler you once were. And, not to sound arrogant, but I get the feeling you think I can somehow change that.”
Lucifer’s look softens and he takes your hand, eyes glued to his thumb tracing across your palm, “I’ll admit there’s some truth to your words. She was my strength. She knew how to lead better than I ever could. The city has gone to shit without her. But…” his other hand cups your cheek as he meets your gaze, “...you can change all of that. Standing by me, you can do so much good for our people. Isn’t that what you want?” his words seem to plead with you. You hear a crack from Alastor’s grip tightening on the arms of his chair.
You shoot a glance at him, silently asking him to calm down. With a gentle touch, you take Lucifer’s wrist to remove his hand from your face, “I want to save souls, Lucifer. Charlie’s dream is incredible and I plan on helping her see it through. I do not wish to assist in the rule of Hell.” You say soft but stern, trying to make him understand. He stands abruptly to look down at you, “Does this demon share these same sentiments?”
Fuck he does NOT let up. “I don’t understand. Why are you so against him!?” you raise your voice making the Radio Demon’s ears twitch.
Lucifer kneels in front of you, tightly gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me…” Alastor stands to say something but you raise a hand to stop him. You wince as slender fingers dig deeper into your skin and the King’s voice darkens to a whisper, “He will never stop trying to gain more power. You want to save souls yet you stand by someone who would sacrifice anyone and anything to get what he wants. You help bring him to power…and he will destroy everything. You, me, Charlie…He - won’t - stop.”
Your heart pounds against your chest, fighting against the thoughts racing through your mind, “How are you so sure about his intentions?” you squeak out. He gently brushes some hair away from your face, “My sweet girl, there are darker secrets to him than you know. Secrets, I fear, that will destroy you.”
“That is enough.” Alastor’s voice warns with a heavy static.
Lucifer angrily stands back up, bringing you to your feet with him, “Why can’t you just trust me? Have I not proven myself enough? He will take away everything.” Your hands press against his chest in an attempt to keep him from getting any closer, “Please, stop! He -”
The lights of the room begin to flicker. Alastor grabs Lucifer away from you by his jacket collar and pins him against the wall, “I said that was enough.” he spits. The two men snarl nose to nose before Lucifer lets out a jarring laugh, “Oh-ho - so she really doesn’t know? How far are you going to try and bury the truth?” he peeks over Alastor’s shoulder to you, “See my dear this is what I mean. If he truly loved you, he would have been honest about his - situation.”
Alastor pulls back and slams Lucifer’s smaller body against the wall again, seething through gritted teeth, “You have no right to -”
“W-what is he talking about?” You brace yourself against the bedpost and take a step towards them. Lucifer shoves Alastor off, sending the pissed off demon half way across the room. His body hits the wooden floor hard enough for the planks to creak beneath him. He half-heartedly struggles to pull himself up onto one knee, panting like a dog about to attack.
Lucifer saunters over to you. You hear a low growl from Alastor as he watches the small King move his hands over your waist and his lips to your ear, “His soul is bound to another. He only needs you because your power combined can break him free. And what do you think he’ll do the moment he is unchained?” he breathes through a wicked smile. Your entire body tenses, both from shock and how intimately his hands run against you.
He gives a coy chuckle, raising his voice to ensure Alastor hears him, “Come see me tomorrow. Alone. We can speak further on how you can repay me for helping you.” with a flick of his wrist his cane flies into his hand. You flinch as he presses a kiss to your cheek before disappearing behind his red ribbons.
Alastor remains frozen, kneeling in the middle of the room. His eyes stare into you while flickering between red and black dials. You can’t tell if he’s about to explode or break down. Although a hundred questions are running through your mind, you know better than to poke an already agitated bear or in this case, deer.
In a moment where you should be angry or confused, where you should yell and scream, you instead do something that takes both yourself and Alastor by surprise. Ignoring the pain and soreness in your body, you drop to your knees in front of him and throw your arms around his neck in a tight hug. He moves his hands up but hesitates before touching you. “Wha-what are you doing?” he asks with a mixture of confusion and intrigue.
Within an instant, a plan forms in your head. This is going to get messy. But it’s the only way to protect me…and protect us. R̶͚̀u̷͍̿l̷̦͛ȅ̸̥ ̸͔̀#̷͇̿4̶̫͝ ̴̧̌Ț̶̈ù̷̫r̸͓̃ǹ̷̩ ̸̘̚y̴͔͊ò̵͜u̸͙͝r̸͜͠ ̶́͜w̸̮̉ẻ̴͚á̵͚k̶͎͌n̵̘͛e̶̪͐s̵̜͝s̵̛̤ ̸̼̋ĩ̸̭n̴̘̈t̷͙̎o̴̡̓ ̵̩͌ŝ̷͉t̴̺̊r̴͈̍e̶̡̔n̷̝̓g̶̭̚t̴̺̓h̸̩̓
You pull him closer and run a hand up into his hair, caressing the back of his head, “You already know the questions I have and I fully expect answers. However, at this moment, I only need to know one thing…” you move away to rest his head in your hands, forcing his crimson stare to you, “...if I help you to break your deal, are you willing to keep your chains and bind your soul to me?” Your tone is serious but affectionate. He needs to know I’m not asking from a place of selfishness. Ȓ̸̤u̷̞͗l̶̫͂e̸̛̩ ̴̬͝#̴̼̒3̶̙͝ ̷̣͂K̵̜̓e̴̘̽ë̶̤́p̸̳͑ ̷̣͘t̷̥͆ẖ̸͐o̶͉̐s̷͗͜e̷̛̻ ̵̪̍y̴͎͗ǒ̴͎u̵͘ͅ ̸͇́ĺ̵̮ö̴̧v̴̩̏ę̷̀ ̷̝̋c̸͠ͅl̶̫͑o̸͈͆s̴̟͠ë̵̢́
“Yes.” he says without hesitation. His immediate response takes you aback. The last thing you expected was the ‘all powerful’ Radio Demon to give into your request without a second thought. For a moment you are left completely speechless.
Unassured by your lack of response, Alastor places his hands over yours, “You’ve already managed to obtain my heart and my mind. The second my deal is broken, I will give you my soul. I will give you everything.” Your heart flutters at his words.
There isn’t a single hint of anger or regret in his voice. His eyes lock to yours as he peppers kisses into your palm and down your wrist. The image takes you back to the first night you spent with him just months prior. That night he looked hungry and desperate but now there’s nothing but devotion, a silent plea for your trust.
You can’t fight the heat rising in your face from his affection. He always has a way of clearing your mind yet clouding it all at once. You’d be surprised if he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart from his willingness to give everything to you. Well phase one of this plan is already going swimmingly. He cocks an eyebrow at how smug you suddenly look, reading you like an open book, “What schemes are you concocting behind those eyes?”
You lightly peck his forehead, then his nose, stopping just above his lips. A sly grin spreads across your face, “I have a plan but you’re not going to like it.” He rolls his eyes and groans, “It involves Lucifer, doesn’t it?”
He helps you to your feet and pulls you into him. Your hands rest perfectly against his broad chest as you smile up at him without an answer. His eyes close with a deep sigh, “My dear, I already do not like where I think this is going.” he mumbles, knowing you’ve already made up your mind.
You stand on your toes to give him a quick playful kiss, “I believe it’s time for me to go make a deal with the Devil.” R̸̢̉u̷͙̔l̷̺̇e̴̡͌ ̷̢̿#̶̠̍2̷͊͜ ̵̤̕D̷̦̐o̴̞̒n̷̠̈́’̷͔̆t̵̪̀ ̴̬̊b̸̺͋ẽ̶͈ ̴̣͘a̴͚͋f̶͔͗ṙ̶͔a̵̻̕i̸̪̾d̵̲̂ ̸̙͗t̷̛̥o̸͕̐ ̸̟͊s̵̖̒h̸͔̊ö̷͇́ẃ̶ͅ ̷̯̓y̸̭̔o̸̮͆u̴̠͐r̷͙͝ ̶͚͝p̵͔͌ǫ̷̛w̵͔͝ė̶̝r̴͎̂
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#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor smut#hazbin#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#slow burn#female reader#fem reader#x reader#reader insert#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox the tv demon#fanfic#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer morningstar#radio demon#lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer x reader#hazbin lucifer#lucifer morningstar x reader
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hey, how are you doing ?? hope you’re doing well !! 🎀🩷
i just wanted to ask if you can write a comfort fic with Jiung from p1h 🥺 everything is up to you i’ve been having hard times for the last few months and i’m just keep reading your works so i wanna say thank you, you really helped me get through this time ❤️🩹
just sleeping
# author's note ... sorry for such a long wait but actually we were twinning and i was going through some stuff too 😭 i hope you enjoy this tho <3 i hope you’re doing better now and i’m happy my silly little writing could help you cheer up, even a bit 🫂❤️🩹
# summary ... jiung enjoys every moment with you, even if it’s just a nap
# warnings ... mention of throwing up (but in a joking way), might seem a little suggestive but only if u squint ++ whole p1h cameo because i love them so much:(
# word count ... 1085
entering the dorm with keeho and intak, jiung is surprised at how quiet the place is.
“now that’s suspicious…” keeho giggled and three boys took off their shoes and put away their jackets.
bags rustling in their hands, they walked up to the living room. the soft sound of mario kart music echoed in the room but… the game seemed far forgotten.
“is anyone there?” intak asked quietly and jiung stepped closer, heart swelling in his chest upon the sight in front of his eyes.
you were sitting in the middle of the couch, shota and jongseob resting their heads on your lap. taeyang was awkwardly resting his head against the youngests’, hands wrapped around your legs… and his bottom part of the body uncomfortably on the floor.
keeho cooed and whipped out his phone, capturing this cute moment.
“what is that supposed to mean!” jiung grunted dramatically, noticing three gaming controllers messily thrown on the ground and a book of yours.
“they fell asleep, you should be grateful” your sleepy murmur caught their attention.
your tired gaze met your boyfriend’s curious eyes and you sent him a lopsided smile.
“what even happened here?” keeho laughed softly and started to pick up the controllers from the ground.
“well shota and seob were playing games, suddenly seob leaned against me so i started scratching his head. and then shota wanted too… and then tae came and protested that he wants too but welp, he didn’t fit on the couch so…” you chuckled, careful not to wake them up.
“idiots” jiung crossed his arms and noticed the sleepiness lingering in your gaze.
he knew that for the past few weeks (if not longer!) you’ve been struggling with work and academic stuff. on top of that, you were exhausted mentally, struggling with socializing and finding happiness in even your favorite hobbies.
and yet… here you are, hanging out with his friends… scratching their heads and letting them asleep on you.
“okay, enough of this. y/nnie, i bought something for you” your boyfriend hummed and poked theo’s arm.
“yeah, you must be pretty cramped up” intak sighed and shook the youngest’s shoulders.
you gently tucked shota’s hair behind his ear and woke him up with a soft tap on his back.
“what is it?” he yawned, sitting up. his hair was sticking in every direction, causing you all to laugh. the vibrations of your body stirred jongseob awake completely.
“my body…” theo groaned, massaging his neck. his eyes widened upon seeing the rest of the members being back “hi there”
“oh she has you all in a chokehold” keeho grinned and nudged jiung.
“did you even sleep?” seob asked you quietly, smacking away intak’s hands. you nodded, even though it wasn’t fully true. you were sleepy, sure, but you didn’t nap like them.
“okay, let’s make some food” intak clapped his hands, the youngests’ ears perking up.
once they were off you, you stretched your arms with a pleasant hum.
“how was the shopping, baby?” you asked jiung, who walked up behind you. then, you felt his warm hands on your neck and arms. massaging your sore muscles gently, you let your hands drop (and your neck too) “that’s nice…”
“we bought some clothes, intak bought some lego. i saw a cute hoodie and thought you’d like it so…” he wanted to go and show it to you but he noticed the way your arms relaxed. his thumb pressing in the middle of your neck. a groan ripped out of your throat, causing the boys in the kitchen to laugh.
“ew, disgusting!”
“i’ll show you the hoodie later, okay? and how was your day?” jiung ignored them, fingers working their way to the side of your neck. the pressure was a bit tough but in a pleasant way.
“fine… boring… missed you. so, nothing new… oh, right here, please” you hummed, letting out a small sigh when he stumbled upon a certain spot. he smiled and continued on.
“i’m literally gonna throw up, can you take this somewhere private?” theo snickered.
“ugh, intak, we’ll have to stay out of the dorm for a while” keeho sighed dramatically and you shot your head up, glaring at him “joking! joking…”
“c’mere, ji. they are just haters…” you mumbled and turned around, kneeling on the couch. wrapping your hands around his neck, you pecked his lips in a playful manner.
“ew! okay, sorry! just go!” keeho laughed, amused by the situation. the truth was, he just wanted you two to have some privacy – especially considering that you haven’t seen each other for the whole day.
you leaned away from jiung and stood up, grabbing your long forgotten book. after leaving it on the coffee table, he grabbed your hand gently and the bag in other.
entering his shared room, you looked around. the window was open, a nice breeze sneaking in.
“here, try it on” jiung leaned down and handed you the cloth. the hoodie was really cute – exactly how you liked it. it fit perfectly too.
you spun dramatically and posed.
“and?” you asked. jiung was observing you, smitten. a cocky smile was blooming on his lips.
“it’s perfect. what do you think, though?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
“it doesn’t smell like you yet. other than that, i love it. thank you, baby” you hummed and placed a kiss on his cheek.
jiung melted upon the sweet gesture. everything you did caused his heart rate to speed up, even after almost two years of dating.
“how was your day?” jiung asked and you fought a yawn, nodding.
“as usual… do you wanna take a nap? those rascals didn’t really let me sleep… taeyang talks awfully a lot of things in his sleep, did you know that?” you giggled and before he answered, you already hopped into his bed, burying yourself in the blankets.
spotting the plushie you bought for him ages ago, you grabbed it and pressed to your chest.
“i’m no fun, am i? just sleeping all day” you giggled, a spark of guilt in your eyes. jiung shook his head and in a blink of an eye was next to you, arms wrapping around you securely.
“i was tired too. besides, i don’t mind if i sleep or go bungee jumping. as long as you’re with me, i’ll enjoy everything” he hummed and pressed a tender kiss on your cheek bone. melting into the gesture (and because of his words), your eyes began to close.
masterlist <3
taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @planetkiimchi ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @mon2sunjinsuver ,, @litepowee
#blue jisungs's requests#jiung#choi jiung#p1h jiung#p1harmony x reader#p1harmony fanfic#p1harmony imagines#jiung x reader#jiung fanfic#jiung imagines#jiung fluff#p1harmony fluff#piwon x reader#piwon fluff#piwon imagines#piwon fanfic#piwon jiung#p1h choi jiung#p1harmony jiung#jiung x reader fluff#kpop fanfic#kpop fluff#kpop imagines#piwon comfort#jiung comfort#piwon boyfriend
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Followed you a while back for one fandom and decided "im gonna stick around even when the artist moves on to other stuff because the art is that baller"
Instead you're taking W after W after W with fandoms because your taste is impeccable so I'm STILL enjoying fandom stuff alongside you Ive been so happy you're posting about One Piece
This made me so happy to read! 🥹 Thank you so much for sticking around for my art style! I switch fandoms often so it makes me very happy to hear that you're enjoying the same rollercoasters I'm on!!
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[for the @calaisreno May Promptadoodledoo; land o Goshen, this was a tough one, so thanks for sticking with me]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) 12: family (13)
Breach imminent
MH
Sherlock groans, shoving his phone between couch cushions and drawing a sleeping Rosie closer to him.
'Bad news?' John asks from his chair. He looks over his reading glasses at where Sherlock is curled around his daughter, and feels affection sting so hard in his chest that he absently rubs at it.
'The worst,' Sherlock answers sullenly
John runs through the likely options in his head, then goes with his gut. 'Your parents are coming to town?'
Sherlock opens his eyes and stares at John, his expression full of surprise, then affection, then shammy casualness. 'I have been a good influence on your deduction skills, clearly.'
John chuckles. 'That, or your brother advised me to clear my calendar and clean the flat.'
'Meddling queen,' Sherlock mutters into Rosie's hair. Then his phone pings again.
I haven't told them.
MH
John doubles down. 'He knows, I take it? About our… development?'
'You are doing very well today.'
'Feelings, Sherlock. I'm good at people and their feelings.'
'Yes, yes, that's why I keep you around. Of course he knows; I let him keep the surveillance up in the stairwell in exchange for having none in here.'
'Ah.' John had suspected as much, though admittedly he had not considered it at the time of the first (very unplanned) tryst. 'Has he told your parents?'
'Apparently not.'
Silence stretches. They've come a long way, but John feels too keenly the risk/reward scenario here, and is undecided.
This time it's John's phone that pings.
It's up to you, of course, but rest assured: they would be inordinately pleased.
MH
John's eyebrow quirks. 'Your parents like me?' he finally says, going for casual but missing, and he knows it.
'You're very likeable.'
'You know, from anyone else that would be a compliment.'
Sherlock doesn't answer beyond a grunt. It's somehow safe to have this conversation in this arrangement, with the comforting stretch of the room and the gorgeous sleeping toddler between them. They're connected, but not so much as to overwhelm.
'How much time have we got, do you reckon?' John asks, almost to the air.
'Far too little,' Sherlock grumbles.
'Right, but from you that could mean three months.'
'Yes, well, seeing as your birthday is in two weeks, but tis the season of primroses so they have to schedule us in between, I'm surmising it to be about three hours, in actuality.'
John snorts. 'That's a bit harsh.'
'No, no, they're beautiful primroses.'
'Hang on,' John says suddenly, running back through what Sherlock has said. 'They know when my birthday is?'
'Of course.'
'They care when my birthday is?'
'Don't be daft.'
'I'm trying, but they hardly know me. And what they know of me is not altogether flattering.'
'I said don't be daft.'
John can't stop a frustrated noise. 'Then explain it better.'
Sherlock opens his eyes, considers him for a moment, then he breaks eye contact and buries his nose in Rosie's hairline. 'They know of my affections for you. And that's enough for them.'
John's breath deserts him for a moment. 'Sherlock…'
'Don't let's make a big thing out of it, please.'
John wants to laugh. It's already literally the biggest thing in his life. 'Alright,' he says instead. 'But... let me be the one to tell them, yeah?'
Sherlock goes very still, not lifting his gaze. 'You'd be amenable to that?'
Sod this, it's been long enough. John shunts his reading glasses aside and stands, listening to his bones crick as he crosses and crouches in front of the two most important people in his orbit. 'Yeah, course.' He presses his lips against Rosie's forehead, then Sherlock's, without hesitation. 'Try and get rid of me.'
Sherlock finally, finally meets his eyes, and John feels so much he wants to tackle both of them and just cocoon for a little while. Tell the world to bugger off.
So, of course, there's a knock at the door. Sherlock groans, and Rosie's face scrunches up in the universal expression of, "How dare you wake me up, you rude creature."
'Three hours?' John says while scooping his daughter out of Sherlock's embrace. She needs a change. Maybe he should use that baby magic and let Sherlock's parents do it, he thinks with a grin.
'I am not in control of all variables, unfortunately,' Sherlock mutters into the sofa, where he's pressed his face.
John's mouth curves into a smirk as he heaves up (bloody hell, getting older is not for the weak) and turns towards the door. He wishes fleetingly that Sherlock was behind him, in solidarity if nothing else.
Then, suddenly, he is, his mouth pressing against Rosie's sleep-rumpled cheek over John's shoulder. He doesn't turn to John, but he doesn't have to. 'Into battle?'
John nods, then reaches for the door.
[❤️]
#May Prompts 2024#MayPrompts2024#BBC Sherlock#I had planned on writing something funny based on my quirky family#but we're uh not super quirky right now#It's gonna be MAY 2024
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new update - 'Thank You for the Venom', chapter 6 🎸 🗡️
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter 6 Summary
Lute bites off more than she can chew; Adam remembers he's not just Lute's punching bag... he's her boss.
Author's note:
Thanks to everybody who has read/engaged so far! I hope you like this one - it was great fun to write. Feel free to comment and inbox away, doesn't have to be about this fic. Happy to chat anything and everything guitarspear!
Cheers to @branded-rose for beta-ing once again; there's a snippit in here that I didn't send you, by the way. You'll know it when you see it ;)
***
Adam and Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven
It had been a month since the Great Bathroom Incident, and the Exorcists were beginning to feel the effects of burnout.
Layla collapsed from exhaustion during a gruelling combat tournament that Lute had sprung on the girls one training session. It turned out she had been hitting the gym twice daily to ensure her physical fitness could keep up with the increasingly difficult drills that Lute had been implementing.
Adam also knew for a fact that the gym wasn’t the only thingLayla had been hitting lately, but he was trying this new tactic with women where he didn’t kiss and tell.
Layla was one of many Exorcists who were suffering the effects of extreme fatigue due to their intense training regime. Over the course of a fortnight, there was at least two new injuries or incidents daily that arose, which meant one thing: More. Fucking. Paperwork.
As if he didn’t have enough shit on his plate already, he now had to spend more time in the office with the she-devil herself, who was still a raging bitch to him on the daily.
She was even worse than usual – not that Adam thought it was possible - now that their increased workload meant they had to stay back late each night to ensure the incident reports were completed in a timely manner. If there was one thing Sera got her panties in a twist about, it was overdue incident reports. Which, unfortunately for Adam, meant that Lute was also on the warpath about them.
The moment he stepped into their office on Monday morning, he knew he was in for it.
“Think you could fucking manage to be on time for once?” Lute snapped, eyes not leaving the paperwork she was frantically filling out.
“Think you could manage not to be a raging cunt for once?” Adam retorted, slamming a take-away cup down on her desk. Not that she fucking deserved it. He hoped the coffee was so hot that it would burn her mouth.
Without acknowledging the insult, Lute grabbed the cup and started drinking desperately from it, disgust clearly written all over her face as she chugged the beverage.
“Don’t get me that milky shit again,” she snarled, tossing the cup into the bin. “In fact, stop buying me coffee every morning, would you?”
“You seemed to enjoy it enough,” Adam retorted. “A ‘thank-you’ would be nice though, you rude bitch.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Lute looked up at him for the first time that morning, despite insulting him at least twice since his arrival. Adam couldn’t hold back his wince – she looked awful. Dark bags lined the underneath of her eyes, which were red rimmed with exhaustion, her hair looked like a brush hadn’t been taken to it in weeks and even from where he stood, he could see how physically tense she was.
“You look like hell.”
For once, Lute resisted the urge to retort back, though her eyes narrowed into slits as she glared at him.
“I’m serious. You look like you need a good dicking.” Adam dropped into his seat and started sorting through his own pile of paperwork. “Not that I’m offering. My cock would probably shrivel up and fall off once I stick it in because –”
“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Lute shouted, standing and gripping the edge of her desk so tightly Adam could see the whites of her already pale knuckles. She looked positively rattled, and he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but her eyes seemed to be glistening. “C-c…” She took a shuddering breath to steady herself and looked around the room, avoiding eye contact, running her hand through her cropped hair. “Can you just…go?”
Adam studied her, frowning. In all the years they’d worked together, he’d never seen Lute lose her cool like this. Sure, she was in a perpetual foul mood, and often directed said foul moods at him, so he was used to her sharp tongue and venomous insults.
But…emotional Lute?
He didn’t know how to deal with an emotional Lute. He didn’t deal well with normal women who were emotional. He’d hate to think of how he’d handle his unhinged second-in-command who hated his guts on any regular day.
And yet… there was a nagging voice, somewhere deep in the back of his brain, that was urging him to cut her some slack. Give her a break.
Adam couldn’t quite place his finger on what caused him to listen to that voice, and there was every chance he’d live to regret it, but instead of kicking Lute while she was down – tempting as it was, given she’d been such a bitch lately - he decided to do the opposite.
He was going to grant her a reprieve.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said simply, staring at her. “You on the other hand, are dismissed for the day, Lieutenant.”
Lute’s head whipped towards Adam, her mouth agape.
“What?” she hissed.
“You heard me. Go home.”
“I’m not going home!” she shrieked. The glisten Adam thought he caught in her eyes earlier were now full-blown tears, threatening to spill down her cheeks. “Who’s going to do all the paperwork? Who will take training today?”
“Nice to know you hold so much faith in me.” Adam said dryly. “You’re a fucking mess, Lute. I need you to get your shit together. I can’t have you taking it out on the rest of the girls, not when they’re already dropping like flies every day.”
Lute gaped at him wordlessly.
“Close your mouth. You’re going to pack your stuff and go home. Now. If I catch you putting a single piece of paper in your bag so you can continue working from home, I’m adding another day to your dismissal.”
“What will Sera say?” she whispered, fear evident in her voice.
“Don’t worry about Sare-bear, she probably won’t notice. If she does, I’ll say you’re unwell. Women’s problems, or some shit.”
Lute let out a shaky laugh. “Great. Just what I wanted her to know.”
“One more thing,” Adam added, leaning back in his chair. “We’re having dinner tonight. You and me.” He pointed back and forth between the two of them. “After you’ve taken the day to wash the sand out of your vagina, and you’re a nicer person because of it, we’re going to go out to dinner and talk through some shit. Finish our conversation from where we left off a month ago.”
“I –” Lute started, but Adam held his hand up for her to stop.
“Shut up. It’s not negotiable, Lute. I’ll meet you at seven. For once, wear something that isn’t workout gear or your uniform. Got it?”
For what seemed like minutes, but really would have only been the matter of seconds, Lute stared at Adam, frowning like she wanted to argue but something was holding her back.
“Fine,” she answered. “See you then.”
Lute’s Apartment, Apartment Block, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven
Lute sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a towel, staring into her wardrobe.
She had no fucking idea what to wear.
This wasn’t a predicament she usually found herself in; the beauty of being as unsociable as she was meant that she didn’t need an array of outfits stashed in her closet for impromptu events such as dinners with her boss.
In fact, her wardrobe mostly consisted of workout gear, her exorcist uniform and a few other select items of clothing. All of it was black. None of it was fancy. Or particularly feminine.
Sighing, she tousled her damp hair. This was stupid. Going to dinner with Adam was stupid. Adam was stupid. She could be using this time to catch up on the paperwork she missed out on doing while she’d been stood down for the day.
Lute would never admit it to Adam, but she had managed to relax for most of the day. And by relax, she completed a two-hour home workout, scrubbed her apartment from top to bottom, rearranged her pantry and finished all her laundry. This was all after she spent a good hour sulking about being sent home and wishing nothing less than a slow and painful death on her boss. Her version of sulking happened to consist of throwing things around her apartment until they broke.
She reached for her phone and tapped out a quick text message, hating herself for initiating conversation with Adam outside of work hours, but what other choice did she have?
Lute: Where are we going?
She tossed her phone aside and flopped backwards onto the bed. Knowing her luck, she’d make somewhat of an effort with her appearance, and he’d take her to a damn fast-food restaurant. Or she’d dress casually, and he’d humiliate her by taking her to a fancy restaurant, which she wouldn’t put past him.
It wasn’t the instantaneous reply that took her by surprise, but more the response itself.
Adam: Do you like BBQ?
Unsure how to answer, her fingers hovered over the screen of her phone before she replied.
Lute: Don’t know. Never had it.
Adam: Didn’t think so.
Lute hissed at her phone and threw it across her bed. Fuck it, she wasn’t going. It’d be a waste of time anyway – no doubt they’d start arguing and she’d probably get so irritated that she’d throw her drink on him and storm out of the restaurant.
Only for the next morning to come and it’d all repeat again. The childish jibes, the insults, the threats of murder…
Her phone buzzed again, unexpectedly interrupting her thoughts. Probably Vaggie asking where she was today. She reached across her bed and tapped the screen.
Adam: It’s not fancy. Hellfire Bar & Grill. See you at 7.
Well. That at least gave her something to work with. Sighing, she got up and started sifting through the clothing in her wardrobe for what seemed like the four hundredth time, wishing she was doing anything but going out for dinner with Adam that night.
Hellfire Bar & Grill, Heaven
For once, Adam had arrived somewhere earlier than Lute. She wasn’t surprised; considering he was highly food motivated she was willing to bet that had something to do with it.
What she was surprised at, however, was the fact that he was dressed entirely in casual clothing. She’d only ever seen him in three outfits before, and they were all different variations of the same robe. It was jarring, seeing him dressed in civilian clothing but still donning his usual helmet and mask.
“Hey,” he greeted her, looking up from his phone as he saw her approach.
“Hi.”
“Have you calmed the fuck down?”
Lute narrowed her eyes. “If you’ve asked me to come here so you can insult me, I’m turning around and going back home.”
“I would have thought,” he sighed, pocketing his phone and opening the door to the restaurant. “That some time off would have put you in a better mood.”
Ignoring him, Lute entered the restaurant and waited while he requested a table. Luckily for them - or unluckily, Lute thought – it wasn’t very busy, so they were seated swiftly.
“What can I get you two lovebirds to drink?” Their waitress chirped, beaming at them both.
“He’s not my fuckin-”
“We’re not dating, babe.” Adam grinned up at the waitress, who at his words, seemed to suddenly be very taken by him. “You and me, though? That could work. Two glasses of your best red wine, thanks.”
Lute shot him a disgusted look, wrinkling her nose at his blatant flirting. Sleazebag.
The waitress was clearly infatuated with Adam, because she giggled incessantly as she flounced away with their drink order.
“How do you know what I drink?” Lute demanded.
“The night I came to your apartment –”
“Broke into my apartment.” Lute corrected him, folding her arms.
Adam waved a hand carelessly in the air. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You had an open bottle of red wine on the bench, so I figured you drank it.”
“The things you learn when you break and enter.”
Before he could retort, the waitress returned with their drinks. She also held a piece of paper which she slipped not-so discreetly across the table to Adam. Winking at her, he pocketed the paper and Lute had to force herself to look away, lest she start gagging as the woman practically melted on the spot in excitement.
What all those women saw in him, she’d never fucking know.
“So,” Adam cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as the waitress practically skipped away. “Did you, uh, relax today?”
“I did.”
Silence. Lute, not really wanting to divulge any further information to Adam, fiddled with the sleeve of her jacket, staring around the restaurant. To their right was a couple who showed all the signs of being on their first date. Hands entwined atop the table, the angels were staring into each other’s eyes, not talking. Just… staring. With stupid smiles on their faces.
Lute rolled her eyes and shifted her focus to the table on their left, the couple occupying that space arguing in hushed voices, though one of the two women looked like they were dangerously close to tears.
Wonderful.
She lifted her wine glass to her lips and sipped, trying to fill the silence with something.
‘What did you do?” Adam pressed, drumming his fingers on the table.
“I worked out. I cleaned. I did laundry.”
“Didn’t I tell you to relax?”
“I don’t really do relaxing.” Another sip of wine. The way this meeting was going, she’d polish off the entire bottle before she got the chance to even eat.
“You were relaxing the night I came around to talk.”
Lute stiffened at the mention of that night. She set her glass down on the table, frowning as she ran her thumb and index finger up and down the stem. She was unsure how to answer – it would be easiest to tell Adam where to go, but the reality was that she was tired, and wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep up the back and forth between them.
“I haven’t done it since.”
“Because of me?”
Lute felt her stomach knot, her hands growing warm and clammy. She removed them from her glass and wiped them down on her jeans. The last thing she wanted to do was get into a back-and-forth about that incident. Again.
“Why are we here?” Lute asked, her eyes snapping up and glaring at Adam. “What’s even the point of meeting here tonight? For you to -”
“Hey! Are you guys ready to order?” Another overly chirpy waitress was back, her smile almost blinding Lute. Her teeth were so white, it was alarming.
Lute stared at her menu, not registering anything that was on it.
“Usual for me, thanks babe,” Adam said, handing his menu back to the waitress. They both looked expectantly at Lute. Shit. She scanned the menu again, but nothing jumped out at her as particularly enticing. Truthfully, she didn’t particularly care for food – to her, it was just fuel to keep herself going.
“Uh, I’ll just have what he’s having. Thanks.”
Adam stared at her incredulously as the waitress took her menu and sauntered off, her small wings flapping happily.
“I’m not sure that was the best choice,” he said, eyeing her wearily. “I ordered –”
“I didn’t know what to pick, okay? I don’t really eat this stuff.”
“What do you eat, then?”
“What is this, twenty-fucking-questions?” Lute snapped. “I don’t have the time, or the patience to play bullshit games with you. What do you want?”
They both glared at each other from across the table, Lute’s golden eyes boring into the screen of Adam’s mask. For what felt like minutes, neither of them spoke.
The loved-up couple next to them were now tangled together atop a single dining chair, making out sloppily, the noisy smack of their lips filling the awkward silence. Lute’s eye twitched in annoyance, and she had to turn her head so she couldn’t see their tongues being shoved down each other’s throats.
“Shit, that’s annoying,” Adam scowled, taking a sip of his wine.
“If they keep going, they’re going to end up fucking on the table in front of us. Gross.” Lute muttered, also drinking. Their eyes met again, though this time there was the slightest hint of a smirk behind Adam’s mask.
He sighed and looked away, frowning.
“Lute. I’m going to level with you,” he said, leaning his forearms onto the table. “We need to make this work. The stakes for Extermination Day are fucking high this year.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sera – ” Adam cut himself off, frowning. Lute studied him with mild curiosity as he paused, collecting his thoughts, his hand rubbing his chin. “Sera… she’s put a lot of faith in your proposal. And I won’t bullshit you – I thought it was a load of crap when I first read it. Too much math involved. If I can’t do the sum using my fingers, it’s too fucking hard.”
“Good thing calculators have been invented.”
“Wouldn’t know, I’ve never used one. Smartass. Anyway, after you left today, I took the time to read it again. I’ll admit, there’s…potential for it to work. But speaking from experience babe, a few adjustments need to be made.” Adam reached for his glass and swirled his wine, taking a sip once he was satisfied the burgundy liquid had been aerated enough. “Wanna hear them?”
Lute crossed her arms. “What are you getting out of this? I’ve worked with you for many years. I know you don’t offer anything up unless you’re getting something out of it.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“Spit it out, then.”
“Fine. Stop being such a fucking bitch all the time.”
“Excuse me?” Lute spat, her eyes automatically wandering to the steak knife set in front of her.
“You heard me, Lute. Statistically, you might be my top girl, but you rank dead last on my list when it comes to personality. Maybe if you loosened up and had a little fun –”
“Dinner’s here!” Two very large, very meaty plates were set down on the table in front of each of them. Lute wrinkled her nose, immediately regretting her decision to blindly order her dinner.
She should have known Adam would have ordered ribs, considering he waxed lyrical about them on an almost-daily basis. There had to be at least two dozen on each plate, all covered in a sticky glaze. Just lookingat the plate was giving her the sweats. She glanced over at Adam, who was watching her reaction intently.
“You know,” he began uncertainly, eyeing the sheer volume of food between the two of them. “You don’t have to eat that. You can always order someth-”
“I’ll eat them.”
“Sure? There’s a lo-”
“I’ll be fine. I bet,” Lute added, folding her arms across her chest, an unknown bravado washing over her, “I can keep up for you, rib-for-rib.”
Adam choked on the sip of wine he’d been taking.
“You’re not fucking serious!” he spluttered, wiping his screen with the back of his hand.
“Did I stutter?” She picked up one of the ribs, instantly regretting her declaration that she’d eat what looked to be her entire bodyweight in meat. Why couldn’t she have picked a normal meal, like a steak? Steak would have been safe. Steak would have been easy. Steak wouldn’t have ignited her competitive streak and didn’t come with potential digestion issues.
But no. She just had to open her mouth. And if there was one thing that Lute did not do, it was back out of a challenge. Especially one that she initiated.
“Ready?”
“Lute, this isn’t a good idea, I mean it, the ribs are –”
Staring Adam down, she held the ends of the rib in each hand and tore a chunk off meat off with her teeth. She grimaced – the glaze was sickly sweet, and they were…
“– spicy.” Adam said, wincing.
She maintained eye contact as she chewed, hating herself for not thinking before speaking. The meat burned her throat as she swallowed, the spice hitting her nose and tears prickling at her eyes.
Lute closed her eyes and bit into the rib again, stripping the meat from the bone completely.
“You,” Adam started, picking up a rib of his own and shaking his head, “are the craziest bitch I’ve ever met, you know that, right?”
Lute wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and tossed the bone onto the spare plate on the table. “Try and keep up, Sir.” She reached for another piece of meat and noticed Adam staring at her, an unusual expression depicted on his mask. “What?”
“You called me ‘Sir’.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “It wasn’t sarcastic.”
Lute grabbed her napkin, wiping her nose which has started to run. “Must have slipped out. I can assure you it won’t happen again.”
She watched with vague interest as Adam started eating. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him consume food – in fact, he regularly ate at his desk in their shared office. It was the first time though, that she focused on the food disappearing into the void of his mask.
Because it did exactly that. It just… disappeared. Almost like there was nothing underneath.
Maybe…maybe that was actually his face, and she’d been wrong about it being a mask all along.
“How does that thing work, anyway?” She managed to swallow rib number three considerably easier than the first two.
“Holy magic, babe.”
“Care to elaborate?” Four down, twenty to go. Her stomach churned at the thought.
“Who’s playing twenty questions now?” he snapped suddenly, glaring at her. “Drop it.”
“So you’re allowed to interrogate me, but I can’t ask you anything?” Another rib done. She was getting hotter, and Lute could feel the sweats starting to kick in. Wiping her glaze-covered hands on her napkin, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the back of her chair. The cool air was welcomed on her skin, and she silently thanked herself for choosing a top with thin straps.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t ask me anything. For example, if you were to ask me if I’m surprised that you own feminine clothing,” Adam waved a hand at her, “I’d say yes.”
Lute scowled. “I’m feminine.” She ripped the meat off rib number six with her front teeth, holding the bone expertly now with one hand. Wiping her mouth with her hand again, she reached for her wine and sipped steadily, using the liquid to help wash the food down.
“You’re the least feminine Exorcist in the fucking army.”
“That’s because I’m the only one you haven’t slept with.”
“Not true. I haven’t slept with the ones that are into chicks.” Adam counted the rib bones on his plate. “I’m at nine, by the way, what about you?”
“How are you at nine? I started before you, and I’m only on seven. And that’s just great. Wonderful. I’m the only straight one you haven’t touched. That makes me feel amazing.” Lute gnawed at her rib, her face flushing in embarrassment.
It wasn’t like she considered herself attractive or anything like that. Truthfully, she’d never thought about it because her appearance had never been of high importance to her. Sure, she liked her hair cropped a certain way, and she’d very rarely wear a small amount of makeup on special occasions, but that was the extent of it.
Moodily, she threw the bone down, not caring where it landed, and reached for another piece of meat.
“Shit – I, uh, didn’t realise you were into dick.” Adam at least had the gall to look somewhat embarrassed. “I just assumed you and Vaggie –”
“You assumed Vaggie and I what?” she growled.
“I’m not judging, babe!” Adam held his glaze-covered hands up in defence. “Love is love, right? And, between you and me, there’s nothing hotter than watching a woman eat pu -”
Lute chucked her eighth bone at him in disgust, cutting him off and hitting him square in the chest. The couple to their left, who had been arguing all night, stopped their bickering and glared at her.
“The fuck are you looking at?” Lute snarled at them, fingers wrapping around the steak knife that still lay atop the table. “You bitches have been going back and forth all night, but me throwing food somehow offends you?” She pointed the blade of the knife at them. “Turn around and shut the fuck up before I –”
The women stood hastily from their table and scurried towards the exit, one of them tossing Lute a scared look over her shoulder. She sighed, satisfied, and grabbed another rib, hand still on the knife’s handle.
“You,” Adam began wearily, shaking his head, “are a fucking nutcase. You know that, right?”
Lute shrugged and kept eating. “I don’t suffer fools.”
“I can see that.”
“Which is why you irritate me so much.”
“I’m no fool,” Adam declared, counting his rib bones out with his finger, starting over once as he accidentally confused himself. “I’m more than halfway done, by the way.”
“Me too. And yes, you are a fool.”
Adam crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. “Before our dinner came, I was trying to explain how, if we tweak your proposal slightly, you’ll have more success with your training plan.”
Exhaling, Lute closed her eyes. She was starting to feel nauseous and if she kept going, she was going to be sick. Maybe she was the fool. “I’m pretty sure you were in the middle of calling me an uptight bitch with a shitty personality, actually.”
He clicked his fingers. “That’s it! Thanks for reminding me.”
Lute opened her eyes and narrowed them at him.
“What? You’ve just jogged my memory. Anyway, you’ve been riding the girls too hard,” he stopped to snigger at his choice of words, and Lute rolled her eyes at his immaturity as she grabbed more ribs. “You need to give them some time off.”
“They already get weekends and evenings off, what more do they need?”
“A night out on the town.”
“You’re telling me,” Lute said, pointing her bone at him accusingly, “that the reason you dragged me out to this stupid restaurant is so that you can propose some kind of night of fucked-up debauchery with your harem of women? And I’m meant to be okay with that?”
“Settle down, Dangertits. As hot as a harem would be, I’m thinking more a night at a bar with a few drinks. Let the girls have a good time.”
“And by a ‘good time’ you mean get them drunk enough so they’ll sleep with you?” Lute snorted, starting on a fresh rib. She noted that there were only a few remaining on her plate. She couldn’t wait to get home and take her pants off, because she felt like she was going to burst from the sheet volume of food she had consumed that night. She was so uncomfortable.
“Hey,” Adam said, sounding slightly wounded. “I’ll have you know I don’t fuck drunk chicks. I might be an animal, but I’m not a predator.”
“Congratulations, you have one redeeming personality trait.”
“That’s rich, coming from you.”
“Oh that’s right, I forgot. I’m the unfuckable, unfeminine, uptight bitch, right?” Lute gulped down the rest of her wine before reaching for her second-last rib.
Adam cocked his head. “I never said you were unfuckable. I said I’d slept with all the Exorcists that I thought were straight. Which, up until about half an hour ago, I was not aware included you.”
Desperately wanting to end this conversation – and the night, Lute held up her final large, juicy rib. “Last one.”
She was sweating, bloated and her throat felt like it had been ripped apart and set on fire, but she’d done it. She’d kept up. Rib-for-rib, like she’d challenged.
Adam raised his eyebrows and downed the rest of his wine. “Fuck me dead, Lute. I thought you’d struggle to get through six with the way you started out.”
Lute shrugged. “Yeah well, I proved you wrong, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, and you also managed to scare the fuck out of the couple next to us. I’ve seen you slaughter thousands of sinners over the years, but honestly, I think it’s your tongue that’s the most terrifying thing about you.”
Lute smirked. “I guess it is.”
And with that, she took the rib whole in her mouth, closing her eyes as she sucked the meat clean off the bone. Once she’d finished, she opened her eyes and set it down on her plate atop the others. Adam was eyeing her with a pained expression.
“I don’t know if I should be turned on or disgusted by that,” he muttered, avoiding eye contact. “But I was definitely wrong about thinking you weren’t into dick after watching you deep throat that massive piece of meat.”
Lute rolled her eyes. “It’s always one step forward and two steps back with you, isn’t it, Sir?”
“You know it, Dangertits. So what do you say? Can the girls have a night of fun?” He extended his hand over the table.
Lute considered it for a moment before reaching forward and shaking it. His handshake was incredibly firm, and she was surprised to discover that the span of her entire hand was almost the same size as the width of his palm. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed how massive his hands were before now.
“Fine. One night out, and then back to regular training.” She quickly let go and exhaled, wishing the remainder of the meeting would come to an end soon so she could go home and unbutton her pants.
After all, how bad could one night at a bar be?
***
Next time: Lute reflects on the positive effects of a night off. Adam finds it hard not to chant 'I told you so'.
#hazbin hotel#adam x lute#guardrock#guitarspear#guitarspear fic#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lute#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin lute
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Even though it only has two episodes so far, watching "The Amazing Digital Circus" has been an experience. You can tell right away that there's something deeper going on with the story and characters. When watching something new, I know I'll be sticking around when I find myself attaching to a character.
For me, this happened first with Ragatha, because of her immediate kindness to a terrified newcomer.
(And of course, because I had a childhood rag doll very much like her. My "little rag dolly" was a good friend and guardian against the dark, back in the day.)
I also liked Pomni. I could feel her character's fear and confusion. And while these are often shown as her primary traits, I think there's more to her than that.
She did try to help Ragatha when she was glitching after encountering the abstracted Kaufmo. I know that she did abandon her search for help to pursue an exit, but I see this more as an act of confusion and desperation to escape what she still thought was a terrible nightmare, rather than an act of cowardice. Ragatha even forgives her in the following episode.
Potential spoilers from here
In-universe, only a day has passed between episodes. But I think Pomni is already showing character growth, as shown in her interactions with Gummigoo.
As an "enemy" in this Candy Kingdom adventure, she could fear him. As an NPC, she could ignore him entirely. But she doesn't. When she sees him hurting, she reaches out.
And this is the scene that made me love Pomni. Chaos hasn't destroyed her good heart. These lines really resonated with me. I often feel like I am nothing. On my worst days, I even believe it.
It means the world when a kind person reaches out to say, "you are not nothing."
By now, most of us know what happens in the episode from here. (Still angry about that Thanos-snap.) I know it's foolish to wish for a happy ending in an existential horror story, but I do think that Pomni could eventually bring renewed hope to the others trapped in the Circus. Maybe, just maybe, she'll even be the one to find the way out.
Thank you if you've read this far. This is just me rambling about a couple of new favorite characters in a story I'm still trying to understand. I do like the other characters, too, and maybe will write about them soon.
I'll also add this, because Ragatha's dainty little princess-run is just too cute
#the amazing digital circus#tadc#ragatha#pomni#fandom thoughts#you are not alone#you are not nothing
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No One Can Know...(15/?)
Word Count: 2,135 Words
Rating = Explicit (SMUT)
Chapter 15
"Don't you ever tame your demons
But always keep em' on a leash..."
- Hozier
Curiosity got the best of Alastor and days later he and Lucifer were naked together again, in his room. Lucifer theorized that if Alastor wanted to chase his subspace; find out what brought it on and explore its depths - it might benefit them to re-visit what they were doing in the place they had been doing it in.
All of this…exploration…they were considering doing together - of course - was very out of character for Alastor. He might have waged internal battles with himself heavily over it if not for Lucifer…Lucifer assured him that whatever Alastor discovered in these sessions; it didn’t have to be something that contributed directly to his identity.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong.” Lucifer had explained. “Many people do like that part of it. They like being the dominant or the submissive and that’s something that they stick to but…it doesn’t have to be one way or the other. I doubt you’ll find enough interest in it for me to delve deeper into all of the terminology and whatnot that’s associated with it but, what I’m really trying to get at is this: do what feels good to you and don’t worry about what anyone else might think or like to call it. Just – don’t worry about that part of it.”
Just like before, Lucifer sat at the edge of the bed and Alastor knelt on the floor, facing him. It felt different – somehow more awkward – with the planning that was involved with this whole scenario now.
Alastor placed a clawed hand to each of Lucifer’s thighs and paused, hesitating.
This just feels so strange… His ears leant back, wondering if this ever really was something worth pursuing to begin with.
Seeing Alastor’s sudden reservation – anticipating it – Lucifer asked him, “Would you mind…very much if I suggested we try something?”
It was a risk. Alastor very easily could be feeling too overwhelmed with what they were already trying to do here and adding something to the mix could make him balk from it further…or, it might just occupy his mind enough that he could push past it.
Lucifer adjusted form and his long devil’s tail slid beside him.
“Give me your hands.” He instructed, holding his own out; palms up.
Alastor placed his hands in his and Lucifer slowly and purposefully folded Alastor’s together; his tail coiling and wrapping itself firmly around Alastor’s wrists.
Something in Alastor rebelled against this minor restraint and his body tensed; ears standing straight.
Lucifer immediately loosened his tail; but didn’t take it away.
“I can remove it.” Lucifer told him – waiting for him to decide.
“No, I’m-“ Alastor breathed, releasing his tension. “I’m good. I just wasn’t ready for it.”
Lucifer’s tail moved, winding itself so that it added more coils to Alastor’s bound hands without ever tightening the hold.
“Aren’t we supposed to have a ‘safe word’ or something if we’re going to be doing this?” Alastor asked, trying to distract himself as he relaxed his arms and let his hands hang limply bound in front of him.
Lucifer smiled. “If you’d like one, certainly. I promise you won’t ever need one with me, though. I’m very good at reading body language. I am curious to know though, what you might choose.” The tip of Lucifer’s tail was moving: rubbing gentle, soothing circles into Alastor’s arm.
“I really don’t have any grand ideas…” Alastor admitted, he could feel himself adjusting to the feeling of Lucifer’s tail wound around his wrists and he was incredibly thankful that Lucifer had chosen it and not a chain or a rope for their first time with them trying all of this.
“Does the word ‘Jambalaya’ make you feel safe?” Lucifer teased him,
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Hm…that is the idea, isn’t it…” Lucifer’s voice lowered. “Now, Alastor…come here –“ Lucifer’s tail pulled back; pulling Alastor’s bound hands and encouraging him closer. “- and show me that you can.”
Lucifer leant over and Alastor rose up on his knees to meet him.
Gripping him by his hair; Lucifer pulled Alastor’s mouth to his and kissed him roughly.
Alastor felt an unforeseen effect of his restriction – though it was meant to be minor – rather quickly. He had been so focused and concerned with how the binding of his hands would restrict his movements, that he hadn’t properly considered that he also wouldn’t be able to touch Lucifer with his hands. Lucifer was emphasizing this to him presently by raking his own hands, fingers and claws through Alastor’s hair; scratching pleasantly at both bases of his antlers and fondling with his ears.
Gasping; Alastor broke away from Lucifer’s mouth as he processed all that he was feeling. Lucifer readily took the opportunity and quickly busied himself with nipping and sucking at Alastor’s jawline and neck.
Alastor’s body was somehow already responding to the feeling of being touched differently now that he was unable to touch; the pleasurable sensations feeling like they were striking him now ten-fold. Blood pooled deep in his belly and he felt his arousal quickly building. Alastor shifted; not quite testing the restraint of Lucifer’s tail but straining against it – feeling an incredible aching need to touch Lucifer with his bound hands. Lucifer responded by very subtly tightening his tail, and Alastor groaned at the feeling of restraint and frustration.
Lucifer pulled his face away from Alastor’s neck, shifting himself on the bed, and Alastor saw that Lucifer was very clearly hard now. Lucifer caught him considering the erection. Gripping Alastor’s antlers - their bases growing thicker and points stretching and widening in long and stretching branches – he tilted and pushed Alastor’s head down; widening the space between his own legs and lifting his pelvis.
Alastor’s mouth readily slid over the lifted cock and Lucifer moaned at the wet heat.
Suddenly, Alastor felt that slipping, sinking feeling again…that sub space. Lost in a building euphoric haze, he bobbed his head against Lucifer’s length; feeling the tip pushing and scraping against his hard palate and sliding toward the back of his throat.
Lucifer stiffened with a delicious tension; seeing that Alastor had slipped below the surface. Loosening his tail, he released Alastor’s wrists; the coils sliding away from the demon’s hands.
Alastor immediately took advantage of his freedom; wrapping his arms around Lucifer’s legs and pulling him roughly to him – claws digging into the skin; his mouth still clenched to the devil’s swelling shaft.
Lucifer’s tail snaked downward and finding Alastor; it slid itself over the sinner’s throbbing and seeping length. Lucifer flicked and teased at Alastor’s tip with it, sliding loose coils over the length and softly stroking. Alastor shifted himself with a deep and needy groan, giving Lucifer better access to him. The coils looped and tightened around Alastor’s sex, resting with a hooked point pressed against Alastor’s balls. Gripping and holding Alastor in that way…his tail began moving; slowly sliding up and down - stimulating him.
With Alastor’s groans building against Lucifer’s own length, he leant back and his hips jutted sharply forward. Gasping, he tried to reign himself back but then Alastor pressed himself further down – taking more of his length into his mouth and throat; Lucifer’s tip pressing into soft wet tissue. Lucifer bucked involuntarily and Alastor gagged and choked against him.
“FUCKING, FUCK! AL! That’s deep!” Lucifer bucked again when Alastor slid himself up only to come right back down.
Alastor’s tail was frantically wagging.
Lucifer’s back arched and Alastor started growling appreciatively, sending humming vibrations to Lucifer that sent him into a frenzy of involuntary thrusts. Alastor’s claws dug deeper into his skin and Lucifer’s tail loosened as he tried to focus on restraining himself just enough to not completely wreck Alastor’s throat with his jutting. Lucifer’s tail began to slip away. Releasing one leg, Alastor reached for himself. He was incredibly hard now and desperate for relief. Gripping himself, his hand wrapped tightly around – clenching Lucifer’s tail in his fist as he began to pump himself in earnest.
Fuck! That hurts! Lucifer clenched his teeth, but the pain quickly became lost to pleasure. His hips bucked into Alastor’s mouth and the demon met his jut; somehow sliding himself so that Lucifer’s entire length was jammed inside. If Alastor could take that, Lucifer could deal with a crimp in his tail…
Alastor was on the brink of it; and Lucifer’s tail tightened underneath his hand when Lucifer gave one last and final thrust; Alastor dipped his head down – firmly bit into the hard muscle - swallowing his prize as he simultaneously came with the King; cum slipping between his fingers and oozing onto Lucifer’s tail.
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It didn’t take much coaxing for Lucifer to get Alastor into the bed with him; wrapped in covers and each other as the post-coital chemicals settled in their systems. Lucifer was familiar enough with sub space to know that: no matter the intensity of a session, aftercare was essential; and though this scenario had all been rather tame for him - the effect it had on Alastor might be very, very different.
It pleased him incredibly to find that Alastor was much more cuddly afterward. Lucifer had lain down; lifting the covers so that Alastor might slide in beside him, but the sinner had surprised him. Alastor, instead, had crawled underneath the covers with him, pulling Lucifer closer to him by the waist so that he might lay himself across his stomach, resting his head comfortably on the angel’s chest.
A soft radio static hummed from Alastor once he settled and Lucifer couldn’t help the smile that touched his face at the sound.
Shifting his position just enough so that he had room to do it; Lucifer spread his wings – stretching the feathered limbs out briefly before folding them close and encasing him and Alastor in a gentle embrace.
“How was that? You feeling ok?” Lucifer asked Alastor.
Waking up from their post-sex nap, they had moved themselves into Alastor’s shower; Alastor was presently drenching himself under a burning hot jet of water while Lucifer hung back, wanting to adjust himself to the heat.
“Hm…yes.” Alastor croaked. “Very much ok.” His smile twitched. “I’m feeling quite wonderful actually, almost like I’ve been drinking.”
“You’re still coming down from the high, then.” Lucifer noted, stepping under the hot water with him now, his skin turning a vibrant red under the spraying jet. “We’ll finish up here and then we should eat; get you some tea for that throat, you fucking masochist.”
Alastor chuckled; the effort costing him a bout of coughing. Lucifer absently flicked his tail; feeling the reciprocating bruising he had sustained to the small vertebrae.
Lucifer was glad that Alastor seemingly wasn’t reading too much into his attentiveness. Lucifer had had his share of sub drops and didn’t wish the experience on anyone…better to avoid it happening to Alastor, if he could.
“Well, we’re doing something right.” Lucifer told him, reaching for Alastor’s shampoo. Grabbing the base of an antler; he pulled Alastor’s head down to him so that he might begin lathering the soap into the deer demon’s hair and fur. Alastor hummed, enjoying the special attention he was receiving.
I’ve never seen him so relaxed and so…clearly happy. His tail is even flicking about like it’s on parade.
“Did you dislike the restraint?” Lucifer asked him, claws working the lather gently into Alastor’s scalp.
“Surprisingly…” Alastor gulped, clearing his throat. “No, I didn’t. At least, not once I…adjusted.”
“It might have helped…it generally helps me get into that…mindset.” Tilting him by the antler, Lucifer moved Alastor’s head into the water to rinse the lather from his fur. Once he was rinsed; Alastor shook himself, bringing his head back down to Lucifer so that he might start on the conditioner.
“Lucky, that you tend to be so touch-averse after…this isn’t something we should be doing all of the time. It gets…addicting; chasing that high. I kind of went over-board with it myself when I first discovered it.”
“Hm…I could see why.” Alastor allowed, grinning like a happy idiot while Lucifer continued to work at his hair.
“Jesus, you are gorked.”
Alastor hummed his agreement.
“We should have enough to go off of now, though…we know where to start when we try again, if-“ Lucifer paused, finishing with the conditioner and letting Alastor go so that he could rinse himself again. “If you’re interested in pursuing more with it, of course. We really don’t have to.”
Alastor shook himself again, turning to Lucifer and taking him softly by the face with one hand; claws swiping gently against wet skin. “I think I might like to pursue anything more when it comes to you, Luci.” Leaning in, he kissed the angel softly upon the lips, saying softly: “I think I might like that very much.”
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Updates have been sporadic as this story has developed. I'll now be posting new Chapters every Saturday going forward; next update coming 5/18/24. If you guys would like to see snippets of chapters here on my tumblr in-between posts, let me know in the comments.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fandom#alastor#fanfiction#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#my fanfic#radioapple#appleradio#alastor and lucifer#alastor x lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer x alastor#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer magne#duckiedeer#no one can know...#no one can know... fanfic#the radio demon
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Wip Wednesday!
Thank you for the tag @milla-frenchy 🩷
I’ve been working on a little Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller and Dark Shades of Innocence Lost this week. Making progress.
1. Dbf! Joel
Just when you almost get lost in your fantasies in your mind, Joel pulls you right back out. “I’ll race ya to the beach,” he smirks as he pulls open the back sliding door that leads to a winding staircase down to the beach.
“Bet I can beat you,” you giggle as you push him in the shoulder and race past him, barreling down the sturdy steps as you hear him laughing uncontrollably behind you.
“Cheater,” he laughs with a gravelly tone, “pushed right past me.”
You turn your face his way and stick your tongue out playfully. “Come catch me, slow poke,” you giggle. That just makes him sprint faster toward you.
You take off in the warm sand, your heart beating wildly inside your chest as you run toward the blue crashing waves of the ocean. You turn your head back around quickly and scream when you see him right on your heels.
“C’mere, pretty girl,” he chuckles. One more step and he’s picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder while you squeak and try to escape.
“Joel, put me down!” you laugh, using every bit of strength in you to break free of his hold, but it’s no use. He’s got you in a tight embrace.
“Ain’t puttin’ ya down jus’ yet, baby. Nah, gonna jus’ take ya for a little dip in the water.”
2. Dark Shades of Innocence Lost
Suddenly, your phone lights up as it buzzes in your lap. You unlock the screen, and your eyes light up like a Christmas tree when you see Joel’s name scrolled across the screen. You giggle like a little school girl who’s about to get a handful of candy when you read his text.
Joel: Passed by the library today on my way to work. Made me think of you. Almost stopped in, but figured you’d already be off. Maybe I should’ve tried my luck. Might’ve got to see those beautiful eyes of yours in the sunlight. See ya Saturday, angel. ;)
You can’t stop smiling, your cheeks feel like they’re stretched to their limit as you curl your toes underneath you and squeeze your fingers around the delicate blanket. Joel sure knows how to make your heart flutter uncontrollably.
“What are you beaming about, hmm? Is it Mr. Club Owner?” Taylor laughs from the other side of the couch.
“Let’s see.” Brianna snatches your phone from your clutch, and you try to dive for it, but she holds it up to where you can’t reach.
“Bri, give it!”
“Oh, I was right. It is him! And holy shit is he obsessed with you. Look at how cute this text is, Taylor!” Brianna tosses it to Taylor, and she catches it with ease as she scrolls through your numerous texts with Joel.
Taylor practically loses it as she chokes on a sip of wine. “He called you beautiful! He can’t wait to see you again? And Christ, you guys have been texting a lot. Fuck me!”
You lean forward and grab the phone from her prying fingers and set it down underneath your fuzzy blanket. “Okay, guys. You had your fun. Happy?” you ask annoyed, rolling your eyes as you try to hide the flush of crimson that’s bright on your cheeks.
“Umm yeah, babe! He is totally into you!” Brianna squeaks as she tosses a piece of buttered popcorn your way. You dodge it and shake your head at her while she sets down her fizzy drink on the edge of the polished coffee table.
“You think so?” you giggle, biting your lower lip.
NP tags! @aurorawritestoescape @joelsdagger @alltheirdamn @vivian-pascal @lotusbxtch
@mountainsandmayhem @joelsgreys @burntheedges @sawymredfox @yxtkiwiyxt @604to647
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the winding path of fate chapter 13 sneak peak
(this is the second half of the first part. I want to rewrite the first half. tbh i'm thinking of posting the first part of chapter 13 since it is relatively long. ngl i feel like i put too many events in a single chapter sometimes. will put up a poll tomorrow when i finish the rewrites.)
With the new day and the cozy safety of your room, the events of last night seemed like they happened a lifetime ago. The fear had mostly subsided, leaving mortification and regret in its wake, especially as everyone was acting so considerate towards you. Looking back, you had no idea what you were thinking, and you realized once again just how lucky you had been.
Your ankle’s swelling had gone down considerably the next day, but it still hurt whenever you put even the slightest bit of pressure on it, so you spent most of the day in bed, reading books, drawing, or staring out the window at the gray sky. Your knee didn’t hurt quite as much either, but you still had to change the dressing regularly. You weren’t without company, though, as Marie sat with you in your room often, bringing you food and helping you put away your newly bought clothes in your closet. She had been horrified when you came home last night, injured. “Oh, Madame, you should have asked someone to get me!” she had lamented. “The streets at night are no place for a young lady to walk by herself!”
Marie wasn’t the only visitor to your room. The Melusines, including those who hadn’t gone shopping with you, also came to see you throughout the day. You supposed that Neuvillette told them about you, for they all brought you cakes and other desserts as get-well presents (you also suspected that they also reported back to Neuvillette about your condition, for when you mentioned to one Melusine how you would like to drink some Fonta, your wish was granted by the next Melusine who visited. However, she also heartily recommended that you drink water from Snezhnaya instead, which held a coolness that was good against swelling, and if you wished, you could ask Marie to fetch a bottle of it for you from Monsieur Neuvillette’s personal stash. She also added that you need not hesitate to ask, as he had more than one bottle. Perhaps all Melusines shared his specific tastes in water, but you didn’t quite believe that was the case).
Rhemia and the other Melusines who had been with you yesterday had been the most distressed upon seeing you bedridden. “I’ll stick to you like glue from now on, Madame! No criminal will escape my sights!” Rhemia had declared, and her sisters nodded vigorously in agreement.
“There really is no need for that,” you tried to decline her offer. Privately, you thought that there wasn’t much a Melusine could do against muggers anyways. “The whole incident only happened because I was careless and in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ll be much more careful next time, so I doubt it will happen again. Just because I’m Neuvillette’s wife, it doesn’t mean that I deserve special treatment or anything of the sort. And if he put you up to this, then—”
Rhemia blinked at you in confusion. “But this has nothing to do with Monsieur Neuvillette. Not entirely, anyways.”
“It doesn’t?” Now you were confused.
“Nope! I’d do this for all the people important to me! Oh, but I guess you’re more than that, since you’re married to Monsieur Neuvillette! That would make you our mother, I suppose.”
“Um…” There was the m-word again. You considered correcting Rhemia, but she continued on, seemingly not noticing your discomfort.
“You’re always so kind and patient with us, just like Monsieur Neuvillette. You greet us whenever you see us, and you always ask us about our days and listen to our troubles. Oh, and Madame, you’re such a good teacher too! I’ve gotten so much better at drawing humans thanks to your lessons!” Rhemia turned to her friends. “Am I right?”
Her friends nodded enthusiastically. They began recounting all the times you’ve spent with them.
“I’m glad to hear that you all think of me as your friend,” you said after they finished, a little embarrassed but also pleased. You hadn’t expected them to remember so much about you. But you felt a little guilty as well. At first, you decided to become friendly with the Melusines because everyone knew that Neuvillette treasured them greatly and you wanted to be in his good graces so that he wouldn’t have any reason to kick you out. They had always been the ones to come up to you first, especially in the first few weeks after your marriage, and while you didn’t consider yourself to be a particularly friendly and warm person, even you weren’t heartless enough to be cold to such a cheerful race of creatures.
“It’s not just us! I’m sure all the Melusines in the Court of Fontaine feel the same way. You’re just as important to us as Monsieur Neuvillette.”
“Oh…” Looking at their bright, earnest faces, you didn’t know what to say. Your eyes suddenly became misty. Before this marriage, you hadn’t really given much mind to Melusines. They were just the public servants you would occasionally pass by on the street. But now that you were connected to them through Neuvillette, you were belatedly learning just how wonderful they were.
“Thank you,” you said at last, patting each of them on the head. Your hand still stung a little from last night, but you ignored it. “It means a lot to me that you think so highly of me. Truly. Still, you don’t need to follow me around. If I ever need help, I promise that I will come straight to you. And…I hope that you would all come to the sunflower viewing party we’re holding here next month.”
“Of course, Madame! We wouldn’t miss it for anything!” the Melusines chirped in unison.
By evening, the deluge of visitors had finally ended. You sank into your pillows, feeling exhausted. You weren’t used to having so many people fuss over you. It was unfamiliar territory, one that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate.
Still, as you gazed at the teetering pile of confectionary boxes covered in Melusine stickers on your bedside table and remembered all the get-well wishes you received, a rush of warmth flooded your heart. How did I get so lucky? You wondered. Perhaps even after I leave Neuvillette, we can still be friends…
As you were lost in your thoughts, Marie came into your room again.
“Oh, Madame, I completely forgot to give you this because of everything that happened yesterday. It appears to be from your family.”
Marie handed you an envelope made of thick, creamy paper. You recognized the stationery as the kind used by your father for formal correspondences, and the address written in familiar, flowery cursive on the front was indeed that of your family’s house.
“Ah, that would be from my sister,” you said, tearing the envelope open and taking out the contents. The enveloped contained two cards made of similarly thick paper. They both had an elaborately drawn border of Lumidouce Bells and Rainbow Roses and had an invitation written in the center. This was new.
You are cordially invited
To a celebration
Honoring
Justine’s nineteenth birthday
Semi-formal attire requested (Floral themed outfits are preferred)
P.S. Sister, please tell me if Monsieur Neuvillette has any allergies or requires any accommodations!
“Ugh…” you groaned, putting your palm over your face. “I still haven’t gotten her a present yet!”
That had been the cause of this trouble in the first place, and yet you hadn’t even accomplished your goal in the end.
While we’re on this topic, shouldn’t she have sent the invitations much earlier if she wanted people to RSVP? It’s just like her to do things last minute! And why is she acting like it’s already decided that Neuvillette’s coming?
“Marie, could you please fetch me my pen and paper?” you asked the housekeeper. After you received them, you began to write a reply to tell Justine that while you were coming, Neuvillette definitely wasn’t. But just as you got to that last part, you paused. The idea of the Chief Justice attending a teenage girl’s birthday party all the way out in the countryside was absurd, of course. You tried to picture him sitting at your family’s worn dining table, singing “Happy Birthday” eating the butterscotch cake your housekeeper always made for birthdays, all the while fending off the barrage of questions from your family and friends. I can’t imagine it! It’s just too ridiculous!
It would be better if he didn’t have too much contact with your family, in order to avoid them asking too many questions, and to make the eventual divorce go smoothly.
He rarely even attended the far more glamorous functions of high society, so something like this would be out of the question. His answer would go without asking.
Or would it?
You didn’t really know why you were entertaining the idea. Perhaps being with Neuvillette these past few months had greatly inflated your sense of self-importance—but then again, you thought that the two of you had gotten close enough where asking him wouldn’t be so preposterous. You were friends, and wouldn’t it be ruder to not at least extend an invitation to a friend? Wasn’t the act of asking in itself greatly appreciated?
And…there was a little part of you that would like to show him around your hometown. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and all you could see for miles around were fields of wildflowers and mountains—a common sight in Fontaine—but there were a few spots that you had fond memories of. Since Neuvillette showed you his favorite places, it was only right to repay the favor, even if none of your favorite spots were as exciting as the giant willow tree or Merusea Village.
Recent events, including the latest incident, had taught you the folly of making assumptions, even for seemingly inconsequential things like this. Just because you thought
The worst thing he could say is no, you reasoned to yourself. And it’s not the end of the world if he does. Sure, Justine will be disappointed, but everyone knows how busy and reclusive Neuvillette is, so she’ll understand if he declines.
As if on cue, you heard the front door open downstairs. Neuvillette had returned home. After a brief conversation with Marie, the sound of his heels briskly ascending the stairs and heading in the direction of your room until it stopped in front of your door. There was a soft knock.
“Madame, may I come in?”
“Yes,” you called out, and Neuvillette opened the door and stepped inside your room. He was about to close the door behind him, but then he looked at you. A thought seemed to cross his mind, and he left the door ajar.
Um, why is he just standing there? You stared at him, confused when he didn’t take a seat right away. He simply stared at you, his gaze a mix of worry, uncertainty, and something else. For a second, you wondered if he was that caught off guard by your dishevelled appearance that was a result of staying in bed all day. It took you a minute to realize that he was waiting for you to ask him to sit down. Really, this man… I thought we’re past such formalities.
“You can pull up a chair,” you said, nodding towards the cushioned chairs in the center of the room. He complied, clasping his hands in his lap after settling in his seat and leaning towards you slightly. He stared at you intently, as if afraid that you would disappear before his eyes. You squirmed uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of the fact that you were wearing only your rumpled nightgown and that you were lying in bed. You surreptitiously pulled your covers up to your chest.
Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever had a man who isn’t my father in my room, you mused, though you were also aware that this wasn’t really the occasion to think about such things. Well, I guess it technically isn’t the first time, since he carried me back here when I fell asleep in his study that one time. First time that I was conscious, then.
Thankfully, Neuvillette broke the silence and (once again) prevented your thoughts from going in strange directions.
“The robbers will be tried in court shortly,” he said. “It will be a short, simple trial, considering the number of witnesses at the scene. I will not be presiding over it, however.”
“I see,” you nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that.”
Despite that, his brow remained creased with worry. “How are you feeling, Madame? Should I take you to the hospital after all?” he asked.
“No, that really won’t be necessary,” you shook your head vigorously. “It’s only a bad sprain. I’ll probably be able to walk again tomorrow.”
“It is highly unwise to rush your recovery. What will happen if you worsen your injury? The meeting with Furina can be postponed—”
“Don’t postpone it,” you said, leaning over to grab his sleeve and stared into his eyes. “The sooner we get this over with, the better. I’ll drag myself up the steps of the Palais if I have to.”
Neuvillette looked like he wanted to argue, but he swallowed back whatever he was going to say. “There’s no need to exert yourself in such a way,” he said at last. “I would be happy to carry you into my office, if you should ask.”
“Carry me into your office, huh?” you leaned back against your pillow with a smile. You sometimes wondered if Neuvillette realized how unintentionally funny he could be. “Wouldn’t that give people the wrong idea?”
“You do have a point. Then, I propose that we arrive at my office early in the morning, before the Palais employees come into work.”
“How about instead of carrying me, I borrow your cane?”
Neuvillette seemed to be pondering your words seriously. “But that would also run into the problem of rousing people’s suspicions. Someone might wonder why my cane is in your possession.”
You turned your head away to smother your laugh.
“It seems that the Melusines have made their visits,” Neuvillette said, looking at the tower of boxes on your bedside table.
“Yes, they were all very sweet. Although, I’m not sure how they expect me to eat all these…” You liked dessert and all, but not to this extent. Perhaps you could bring some of them back home with you to share with your family and friends.
“Clorinde also asked me to pass on her well wishes to you. She was very sorry to hear what happened.”
“I see. Please thank her for me, and tell her not to blame herself for my foolishness.”
“I will do that,” Neuvillette nodded, then was silent for a moment. His solemn gaze as he looked at you made it seem like you were diagnosed with some terminal illness rather than merely spraining your ankle badly and hitting your knee against the ground.
“Neuvillette?” you called out his name in hopes of getting rid of that grave look in his eyes. It made your chest feel heavy.
“Ah, by the way, I consulted with a friend of mine about your injury. She made this drink for you,” Neuvillette brandished a green, ridiculously adorable cup from out of nowhere. It reminded of you of the cups toddlers drank juice out of. “She says that it will help your body recover quicker.”
“A friend of yours?” you repeated, your interest piqued. While Neuvillette would happily talk to you about the Melusines for hours on end and occasionally talk about his (human) acquaintances, you had never heard him call anyone his friend before.
“Yes. She is the head nurse the Fortress of Meropide’s infirmary, and one of the kindest and considerate people I know. I hope the two of you can meet one day.”
“That’s high praise coming from you,” you said, making a mental note of this mysterious friend. “Why don’t we invite her to the sunflower viewing as well?”
“What a wonderful idea. I shall do just that,” he said, then held out the cup to you. “Now, Madame, you should drink this.”
“Alright,” you took a sip of the drink and nearly spat it out. “Bleakness” was the only way to describe the taste. It almost made you want to get out of bed and walk so that the pain could distract you from the torture of your tastebuds. For a heartbeat, you wondered if Neuvillette was trying to poison you. “A-Are you sure this is h-healthy?”
“Of course,” Neuvillette said, looking baffled by your question. “I’ve drank it on numerous occasions, and I’ve always found myself quite refreshed and invigorated afterwards. I asked Sigewinne to make it taste more palatable for you, as I’m aware that her concoctions are not for everyone. She truly hopes it makes you feel better.”
This is palatable? You thought. Did I do something to this Sigewinne person? Whoever she was, she shared the same incomprehensible sense of taste as Neuvillette.
Speaking of Neuvillette, he was looking at you expectantly. Oh Archons, is he expecting me to finish it in front of him? Just as you were trying to come up with an excuse to not drink it, those efforts were dashed by his next words. “Is it not to your liking?” he said quietly. You were vaguely aware that it had started raining outside.
“I…um…” you didn’t know what to say or where to look. You suddenly had the impression that a large puppy was at your bedside, staring at you with sad eyes. Gah, he must be doing this on purpose! Either that, or he must really be fond of that friend of his. “Well, when it comes to medicine, it’s not really a matter of liking it or not liking it, right? A-And since you’ve gone to the trouble of asking your friend to make this for me, it would be rude of me to not drink it, right?” You sounded like you were trying to convince yourself.
“If you do not like it, then you do not need to force yourself—”
“No, no, I mean, I’ve taken plenty of bitter medicine when I was little, and I survived. This will be no different,” you brought the straw up to your mouth and held your breath. Let’s just get this over quickly, you thought, then emptied the cup in one go. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to drink. However, the lumpy texture was still a struggle to swallow. You felt as though you had just eaten concrete.
“That was…certainly something I’ve never drank before,” you managed, flopping back onto your pillows to recover. You opened a box of lemon tarts and shoved one into your mouth to get rid of the taste. Honestly, you wanted to drink some Fonta instead, but decided that it might be a bit uncouth. Of course, some might say that it was unladylike to eat cake in bed in the first place, but you doubted those people ever had the misfortune of having to drink that so-called “healthy drink.” “Please thank your friend for me.”
Neuvillette nodded, watching you as you ate a second, then a third tart. Lemon wasn’t your favorite flavor, but anything would do right now. YYou offered one to him, but he politely declined. His gaze dropped to the papers in your lap. “…Were you writing a letter to someone?” he asked.
“Oh!” you had almost forgotten about that. “My sister Justine sent us invitations to her birthday party. It’s a bit short notice, but it’s in a few days.”
“Ah, yes, I’ve heard you mention it before,” Neuvillette took a pause, as if he had only just taken in the entirety of your words. “Did you say ‘invitations’?”
“Yes,” you nodded. Your hands suddenly felt sweaty. What were you so nervous about? “Since we’re, you know, husband and wife, it’s only natural that invitations would be sent to the both of us. Funny thing is, Justine thinks you’re already coming and has asked me if you require any accommodations, but of course you haven’t given any answer as to whether or not you’ll be attending the party. I-I know that you usually don’t attend public functions, but birthdays parties in our party don’t tend to be very extravagant affairs. It’s usually just a small gathering of close friends and relatives. We can even make everyone sign a contract of confidentiality, if you want. You don’t have to bring any gifts either. I think your presence will be a gift in itself for my sister, haha…”
Oh no, I’m rambling again…why do I keep doing this in front of him? You toyed with the edge of your comforter, suddenly too nervous to look at his expression. Would there be a look of disgust there? Why would there be? Your brain argued back. You haven’t asked anything offensive!
Finally, you dared to sneak a peek. He was staring at your face, as though scrutinizing it for answers to a difficult question.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” you said, thinking that he must be trying to find a way to let you down gently.
“…Do you want me to attend?” he said at last.
You hadn’t expected that question. “What do you mean?” you frowned.
“What I mean is…would it please you—would it make you happy if I attended your sister’s party?”
Ah, so the answer is no, then, you thought. That was expected.
“Well, it’s not my party, so my opinion doesn’t matter,” you said slowly. “Justine would like for you to come, but there is no obligation on your part to say yes. If you like, I can make up some excuse about your absence to tell everyone.”
“But your opinion does matter quite a lot to me,” Neuvillette said. He was oddly insistent about this. “I would like to hear what you think.”
“As I said, it’s not my party. It will not affect me one way or another should you choose to come or not,” Realizing that you might be sounding too harsh, you softened your next words. “It’s okay to say no. I’m sure everyone will understand if you can’t come.”
Neuvillette stared at you for a long while, his eyes unreadable. You could hear the rain pounding against your window, and you turned your head to it. The sky was a dark, leaden gray. It’s been raining pretty frequently these days, hasn’t it? You thought distantly.
“Unfortunately, I have a trial to oversee on that day,” he said. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him clench and unclench his fists. You wondered why he didn’t mention the trial earlier. “I do not think it would be wise for me to attend, in any case. It would be a needless distraction.”
“Alright then. I’ll tell my sister you can’t attend,” you said lightly, then turned your attention to your unfinished letter. You picked up your pen and began to write. Focusing your mind on producing the words helped distract from the tumult of emotions within you—emotions that you didn’t know quite what to make of. Was it relief you felt, or disappointment? Relief for what? Disappointment about what? You couldn’t tell at all.
In any case, it’s over and done with, you told yourself firmly, signing the letter with a flourish. Maybe too big of a flourish. I’ll post this first thing in the morning—that is, if I can walk by then.
You glanced up to see Neuvillette still sitting there. He was drinking from his cup, but he was watching you over the rim. You had long gotten used to him studying you like you were some kind of strange specimen, but it was still awkward, especially in this silence. Your room, which had always felt needlessly spacious to you, suddenly felt very small.
Just as you were debating whether or not to fake a sleepy yawn and ask him to leave, he spoke again.
“You haven’t yet bought a birthday present for your sister, yes?”
“That’s right,” you replied, wondering what he was getting at.
“I won’t have any time tomorrow, but I do have an hour or two to spare after our meeting with Furina. We shall go pick out a present together then.”
You gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I not be? It is customary for married couples to give presents as a pair, is it not?”
“I…suppose so,” you said. Neuvillette was so hard to grasp sometimes. Sometimes, he was clear as a fresh water spring. Other times, like now, you had the sense that you were staring into the sea, unable to see all the way to its bottom.
“Then it is settled,” he said with a note of satisfaction in his voice, then leaned forward and cupped your cheek. It happened so quickly that you didn’t even have a chance to react. “W-Wha…” was all you could manage to stammer out. There was only a millimeter of space between your faces. Your heart sped up a little when his gaze moved to your lips. His thumb moved to the corner of your lip and brushed against it. It took you a moment to realize that he had flicked off a cake crumb.
“I still have some work to finish, so I’m afraid I’ll have to take my leave now,” he informed you, removing his hand from your cheek. Despite that, you could still feel the smooth silk of his glove and the latent strength in his long fingers. “Please rest and get well soon, Madame.”
You could only nod as you gazed up at him. He stared into your eyes for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving your room. It was only when you heard his footsteps recede to the other side of the house that you realized that it was no longer raining.
#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact x reader#my writing#the winding path of fate#is this even slow burn at this point idk#what even is slow burn
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Thanks for the tag @jamesunderwater! Loved reading your answers!
🍓 how did you get into writing fanfiction?
My first (very bad, very cringe) foray was between releases of OotP, HBP, and DH. Back then I was writing Marauders as well as 7th Year for the Golden Trio and a post-Hogwarts fic called "Friends" in which Harry, Ron, and Hermione lived together in Grimmauld Place 🥲
🍇How many fandoms have you written in?
Just HP!
🍈 How many years have you been writing fanfiction?
I mean, I went through the early childhood fanfic phase that lasted 1-2 years, but then I didn't write again until picking it up in 2020 as an adult. So really, only about 4 years now of writing consistently, and maybe 6 years total in my life.
🍎 Do you read or write more fanfiction?
I also definitely write way more than I read. Mostly this is a product of limited time—writing is a creative outlet for me, and when I have the time for it, that's usually what I reach for.
🍌 What is one way you've improved as a writer?
I think I've improved a lot with descriptions and vocabulary. Like for example, with revising LFTS and ES, there's been so many moments where I find myself just intuitively taking a sentence or small exchange or small paragraph, and expanding it into something that is just a better portrayal of that moment? It's hard to explain, but when I do the side-by-side comparison, it feels more elevated, and I think that's going back to improving on writing descriptions of what's happening that feel more fluid.
🍑 Do you have any bad habits as a writer?
Oof okay not sticking to a solid writing routine resonated with me too, that's definitely something I'm trying to be better at but it's hard!! Also a major bad habit for me is focusing too much on word count and setting unrealistic expectations for what I can accomplish in certain amounts of time. I've had to do a lot of mindset work to adjust to the fact that some of my old methods were unhealthy and unsustainable, and simply aren't realistic with making writing fit into my current, healthier lifestyle. But it's hard! Old habits and mindsets are ingrained and so tempting to default to. Like I've tried using daily word count goals several times, and it's always a trap. One would think I've learned my lesson, ha!
🍍 What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?
Hmm nothing's really coming to mind as being particularly "weird." I do ping @redrobyn285 and @welsh-green about Britishisms from time to time, and that often sparks funny conversations about cultural differences. Like for example, we recently had a very in-depth conversation about terminology for dorm rooms and different sizes of beds 🤣 But in all seriousness, I learn a lot from them and owe so much of the Evans family lore to their input!
🍉What's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?
The play-by-play reactions are my absolute fave! It's so gratifying and fun, especially when there's suspense and tension involved in the story and you feel like you're bonding with the commenter through the shared experience of all the emotions happening.
🍐What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?
Hmm Castling was pretty fringe, I don't want to spoil it for anyone who hasn't read, but I'm not aware of any other Jily fics dealing with ~that~. But besides that, I don't think anything on my current slate is that fringe tbh. I've mostly been writing Hogwarts Jily lately, and that's pretty vanilla as far as tropes go. But I do have some adult!Jily in my back pocket that have some more fringe tropes for me 👀
🥭What is the hardest type of story for you to write?
Angst. Hands down. I think because I'm an empath, dwelling in dark emotions for a story can be really difficult for me. Probably the angstiest scene I've ever written is the opening scene of Vindicated, and there's a reason that's only like 800 words 😂
🍏What is the easiest type?
Rom-com style fluff and smut! I'm such a sucker for all the classic sexual-tension builders: bantering, jealousy, flirting, a little sprinkle of comedy, pining, awkwardness. It makes me giggle and kick my feet while writing, and it puts me in a happy mood every time I'm writing it, which is probably why I'm addicted to it 😇
🍑Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?
Scrivener! I'm at a point now where I've learned enough of its functionality that I truly can't imagine ever going back. It's my fave. I also use Notion religiously for my whole life, and that includes fanfic, but I don't actually write in Notion unless I'm jotting down ideas on my phone or brain-dumping an idea that doesn't have a Scrivener doc yet.
🍋What is something you've been too nervous/ intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?
Domestic/Pregnant/Parent Jily. For the simple reason that I haven't experienced being pregnant/having kids yet and I feel like a fish out of water trying to write it because I don't know what I'm talking about 😂
🍇What made you choose your username?
I don't really remember the whole thought process anymore, but I love the musician/DJ Gryffin and was listening to some of his first album a lot in formulating ES, I am very much a Gryffindor, and also wanted something short, sweet, catchy that would be easy for people to remember and spell. And honestly I think missgryffin just popped into my head at some point after that!
I might be late to the game on this one, but tagging @petals2fish @apalapucian @blitheringmcgonagall if you're interested! 🫶
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After all the Nia-related exasperation lately I wanted to write you this:
THANK YOU for creating characters that act and think like real human beings. THANK YOU for creating a strong and complex female love interest. THANK YOU for giving her proper critical thinking skills and a not-pea-sized-brain.
I will tell you this - if I were in Nia’s shoes, I would AVOID MC AT ALL COSTS.
For real. She saw her bf having violent outbursts. She knew they were bullied by their older sister. And then SUDDENLY MC’s sister ends up brutally murdered and SUDDENLY MC is being sent to a mental institution.
In real life there were multiple occasions when sane suspects tried to claim they were mentally ill so as to avoid imprisonment and to be sent to some mental hospital instead. I know, it doesn’t really apply to our MCs ‘cause it is well known they are ill, but damn it, everything just kind of coincides too well in the eyes of everyone (that’s why some students at school also think MC killed Orla).
I get it some of readers here are sad she didn’t reach out to MC when they were in a hospital. But it was said (many times btw) that she had her reasons for that. I get it some of readers here are sad she thinks MC killed Orla. But it was said (quite a bunch of times already btw) that she has her reasons.
We just have to wait and find them out without jumping to conclusions. We don’t know everything.
What really matters is that Nia still sticks out to MC and clearly cares for them (she gets angry at Imre for trying to involve MC in the investigation, claims that MC is strong if you play around with choices etc). Or at least it matters to me.
Sorry if it comes off as too aggressive.
Hahaha this is was something read, love the passion nonnie.
Yeah Nia is a person who has a very clear idea of the world and who she is. She doesn’t change it for anyone. Her biggest thing is that she likes facts, wanting to be a doctor she feels emotions if not checked override things and make you see things distorted. She’s not a robot she just doesn’t allow herself to be carried away.
Like I’ve said, just because a character doesn’t fawn over mc doesn’t mean they are against them or hate them. They’re just human and the characters don’t know MC is mc, y’know? I like that Nia doesn’t treat mc with kid gloves, she respects them enough to treat them as an equal. She doesn’t act like you’d expect because I’m trying to make her feel real and real people don’t do what we want even when they love us
I would love more polemic female love interests to be honest. We have some many complex male interests, we need all kinds of women and I’ve always loved women like Nia in fiction. Dominated by logic but allowing moments of emotion
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A full transcribe of JAVIER PEÑA'S dialogue/lines from the TV show NARCOS.
S3/E9 - TODOS LOS HOMBRES DEL PRESIDENTE
Includes full dialogue, and dialogue from any deleted/additional scenes available.
I've created this as a point of reference when writing for Pedro's characters, and I hope you find it useful. Even if you just want to read the dialogue. 🖤
FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE
☝🏻Dialogue has been fully transcribed by myself using reference to original scripts (if available), audio subtitles and using my own two ears. Therefore, mistakes can be made, however I have tried to be as fully accurate as I can. If you spot an obvious mistake, please kindly let me know. Where audio is not clear, I have marked with *inaudible* Scenes are separated for ease of reference.
FULL SCRIPT DIALOGUE:
It’s a fucking leak. Someone in the Colombian government is telling them everything.
Yeah. I mean, it adds up. Our most important witness gets killed right before I get him to talk. Sir, Botero knew that Franklin Jurado was my only play.
That we had one.
Sir-
Sir, what if Botero is the leak? Then we’re handing it over to the guy who works for the cartel. Ambassador, our CI, he’s done everything we’ve asked him to do. He’s… He’s… He’s risked his life. He’s risked his family. We’d be hanging him out to dry.
No. We do that… Miguel disappears and then we’re done.
I thought you said I had until 5pm.
__________________
Crosby’s handing it over to the Colombians today, Any move we make, we risk the leak finding out.
What did Salcedo say about the new location?
So we don’t wait.
Crosby won’t go for it. I asked.
So it’s up to us to help them. We get Miguel, we get them out. Call Salcedo again. We take Miguel today.
__________________
(In Spanish) General, Miguel Rodríguez is on the 7th floor. His son, David, doubled security after the raid, and well, there’s no way to get inside that building, without attracting attention. We have to get Miguel to move.
(In Spanish) Exactly.
(In Spanish) Leave that to me. I’ll stay here in Bogotá. You coordinate the operation in Cali. But it has to be today. There’s no time.
(In Spanish) And it could all be taken away.
(In Spanish) General… You put him in jail and I’ll make sure he stays there.
__________________
(Narration) In law enforcement, your only real power comes from the strength of the system that you represent. You gotta believe it has your back. But sometimes… sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s so compromised, so corrupt, that you can’t trust it. What do you do then, when it tries to play you? You look for a way to play it right back.
__________________
(In Spanish) Of course.
(In Spanish) Thank you. One more thing, Minister. It almost slipped my mind.
(In Spanish) I received some information regarding Miguel Rodríguez’s hideout. It seems he’s in a building in Cali. It’s called Hacienda Buenos Aires.
(In Spanish) No, that won’t be necessary. I’ve already got my men there preparing for the raid today.
Well, we can’t waste any time. You want to catch him, don’t you?
This is the best option. If we do get him, you get the credit. I promise. Thank you, sir.
__________________
Peña.
Good. Keep me posted on stage two.
(In Spanish) Good morning.
(In Spanish) Defense Minister Fernado Botero… is working with the Cali cartel.
(In Spanish) Played a little “telephone.” Something I said to him that only I know was prepared in Cali.
(In Spanish) Yes.
(In Spanish) And?
(In Spanish) Santiago Medina. Who’s he?
(In Spanish) Fernado Botero.
__________________
Where are we?
__________________
Are you sure?
Just wait, wait.
We stick to the plan. When Miguel moves, we get him.
Yeah, well, he might already be dead.
All right, go.
__________________
(In Spanish) General.
(In Spanish) And Salcedo?
__________________
(In Spanish) Wrong?
(In Spanish) So… he wasn’t laundering the money?
__________________
I need a word. Right away.
No, thank you. I’d rather stand.
We got Miguel Rodríguez.
He’s on a plane back to Bogotá right now. It’ll be all over the news in an hour.
Sir, there’s another piece of this that you need to know. These are bank accounts open in Curaçao by a guy named Medina.
Well, good, because he was working with Fernado Botero. They received over six million dollars from the Cali cartel, which went into the Samper presidential campaign.
I did some digging. Ambassador, I am certain that the Minister of Defense is corrupt and that it doesn’t stop there. You ask the President, he’s gonna say he didn’t have a fucking clue, but that money won him the election. Gilberto, Miguel, they walk right out of prison unless these fucking politicians are in there with them.
How long have you known?
You’re not going to do anything.
So that’s it. They brought… the president.
We never had a chance.
__________________
How long have you had them? The tapes Crosby played for me. Let me guess. It’s uh… it’s complicated.
__________________
FULL MASTERLIST OF PEDRO CHARACTERS DIALOGUE
#pedro pascal#javier peña#javier pena#pedro pascal characters#javier pena narcos#javier pena dialogue#pedro pascal character dialogue
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As an extension of your post about epithets, I'm wondering if you can help me pin down what it is about the use of phrases like "those eyes" or "that mouth" that have started to just drive me bonkers when I read some fanfic. At times I come across it and it feels completely natural, and other times it feels like a somewhat lazy shorthand for expressing a character's admiration. Thank you!
I can't speak with certainty, because this isn't a problem that's come up enough in my own fandoms for me to really analyze it in context, but I'll give it my best guess.
Phrases like "those eyes" and "that mouth" work most effectively for me when they're a reference back to a previous description. Maybe those eyes are really exceptional. For instance, Sir Damien in The Penumbra Podcast goes on at length about Lord Arum's violet eyes to the point that "those violet eyes..." are already a recurring motif inside the work, so the fics that use the phrase are all calling back to that.
Sometimes, though, you'll get writers refer to features that don't make any sense in the situation. I've seen lots of complaints brought up about prose describing a character's "plush lips" and "fine ass" when the actor portraying that character very decidedly has neither of those things-- often completely ignoring the qualities that the character actually does have in favor of the generic "sexy" ones.
Often, "that [body part]" carries a very strong sexual connotation, particularly about what the POV character would very much like to be doing to "that mouth/those thighs/those arms/that neck/whatever". They tend to work best in my opinion when the point-of-view character has very specific fantasies/memories that are described, or at least implied, on the page. But sometimes you'll get that phrasing from a character where it doesn't make sense for them to be thinking of the other person in those terms. Maybe they're sexually inexperienced in a way where specific fantasies seem out of character, or their preferences within the narration veer very sharply in one direction but the designated body part implies otherwise (for example, the writer's gone on at length about them exclusively liking to bottom but describing the other person as if their intention is to top them-- not out of irony or subtext, but because that's a generic "attractive feature").
I think it also ought to be said that which features are emphasized, and the adjectives used to emphasize them, work best when they're deliberately chosen to build a specific effect-- is the other person's vibe elegant, or brutal, or delicate, or whatever? Picking qualities and features that reinforce that vibe can be super evocative and feel much more personal than sticking to the standards. In a recent fandom I'm in, one character is singled out as being exceptionally strong in the canon, and specifically noteworthy to the character that he's frequently shipped with. Consequently, a lot is done with his love interest thirsting over the breadth and power of the character's shoulders. Shoulders weren't sexy before, but they sure as hell are now.
TL;DR: if I had to guess at what makes that phrase fall flat, it would be a lack of specificity to the actual character, or an inconsistency with the way the people in the scene are characterized.
#writing#it's late and I've had a long day so this isn't as organized as I would hope#but it's better than my previous draft#which is saying something
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