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beejunos · 2 days

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UNKNOWN TO ME AND YOU | Alastor x reader

Summary: As Alastor's shadow starts to act strangely, hidden feelings are brought to light.

This wonderful story was written from @lustylita's wonderful idea! The story is completely theirs; I just had the pleasure of putting it into words. Their original post can be found here.

Tags: Alastor x gn.reader, hidden feelings, angst

The last couple of weeks have been very strange to you.

Well, stranger than the hotel usually was.

Over the past few weeks, you have helped your best friend, Charlie, with her little passion project. The Hazbin Hotel - your only chance at redemption!

While you couldn't say that you inherently believed in her dream, you would have been a poor friend if you hadn't tried to help her—emphasis on tried. Growing up within Hell's elite, where someone always handed you everything on gold platters, didn't foster any usable skills that could help run a severely understaffed hotel. The very thought of having to clean your own room had almost immobilised you.

Did you really need to vacuum the walls and the ceilings every week? How did the cleaning staff back at your parents' manor even do it? The manor was huge!

Thankfully, you had not been forced to clean for long because shortly after Charlie had opened the hotel for business, an unwanted guest had come knocking at the door. Alastor and his somewhat reluctant companies, except for Niffty, who seemed to thrive in the chaos, quickly made themselves at home in the hotel.

The same night they arrived, you and Vaggie had sat Charlie down in their room and begged the princess not to let the radio demon stay. After all, the tales of his deeds had even reached your family's manor in the Envy ring of Hell. But Charlie had been persistent, saying that maybe by staying in the hotel, she could change his ways. You loved your friend; you really did, but sometimes you wanted to shake some sense into her violently.

There was nothing you could do about the radio demon and how he just took over many of the work duties you had at the hotel. Waltzing in as if he owned the hotel, he had taken one look at your work and deemed it unsatisfactory.

"No, no, let me do it, doll!" he would say condescendingly, making rage lick up your spine, "We would want this to be done well for Charlie, now, wouldn't we?"

You had lost count of all the times you fantasised about grabbing a chair and introducing it to his face.

He made you feel incompetent, and worst of all, he was right. Most of the work you had done that he had redone was of better quality, more detailed, and better planned. If you had been a weaker demon, you would have given up, apologised to Charlie and gone home to your parents, but so, if the heavens would be your witnesses, you were going to crush that smug little bastard of a sinner!

And so began your imaginary battle with Alastor about who could be the best executive producer. If you had asked Alastor, he would not have had any clues about what you were doing, only that it finally seemed like you were taking your job seriously. That said, he still did not like you. You were a spoiled little demon brat who had never worked a hard day in your life, and worst of all, you were sloppy with your work.

But time kept ticking. The days passed, the hotel was filled with new residents, and somehow, you and Alastor were able to work together. Nevertheless, you only managed to do it by never being near each other, which worked wonderfully for you because the man could actually be quite okay when he was silent and on the other side of the room.

You could have continued to live like this for as long as Alastor decided to live in the hotel. There was just this teeny tiny thing that perplexed you.

Alastor's shadow liked to be around you.

It had begun quite innocently with the shadow coming over to you one night when you were sitting in one of the armchairs by the fireplace with yesterday's newspaper in your lap since you had started to do the crossword puzzle on the back of the paper. You had been staring at the same clue for what felt like an hour, and you just couldn't figure it out. Out of nowhere, a shadowy finger had tapped on the clue to get your attention, and when you looked up, two empty holes for eyes had looked back at you with the biggest twisted grin full of teeth you had ever seen.

"Fuck! Don't do that!" you whispered forcefully, not wanting to disturb the peace and quiet that finally had fallen over the hotel lobby. "What do you want?"

Prepared to be bothered any second now by the radio demon, you got even more confused when the shadow started doing pantomimes. Why in the seven Hells was it swimming across the wall?

You looked on as the shadow began to swim back to you, tapped on the clue and started to swim again.

"Swimming? But it has nothing to do with activities! It is something about effort," you said as the shadow returned to you. Since it could not speak, the shadow just started to nod its head and tapped on the clue again.

"Is it a word derived from the word swimming?" you asked hesitantly as the shadow continued to nod.

You turned back to the clue before you—a word for no effort needed and swimming.

"Swimmingly?" you asked the shadow, who gave you an even bigger sinister smile and nodded again before it disappeared up the stairs. Again, you were left in the lobby with only the crackling fire as a company, looking over at the stairs after the strange entity that was Alastor's shadow.

The next couple of weeks just grew more and more strange with every day. Out of nowhere, Alastor's shadow started to just interact with you. It began as innocent waves to you behind Alastors back, and at first, you wouldn't wave back, but when you saw how sad the shadow got if you didn't return its greeting, you started to wave back to it. On a few occasions, Alastor had caught you in the act, which quickly prompted you to swat the air around you as if you were trying to get rid of a fly.

When the waves weren't enough for the shadow, it started to appear around you, helping you in various ways. Once, it even helped you find some important paper you needed for your job that you were convinced Alastor had hidden from you.

It turned out that Alastor's shadow was much more pleasant company than its physical part, and you often welcomed the shadow's help with your crosswords during the evenings.

However, you were again thrown for a loop when the shadowed behaviour started to change. It began to interact with you even more, seeking you out during the day and staying for long periods at a time, just hanging around you or observing what you were doing.

One day, it had even brought you a blueberry muffin from the bakery you liked across town. You had no idea how it had even done that. For all you knew, shadows were not physical things and could not interact with the physical world. However, you were promptly proven wrong when Alastor's shadow took your own shadow's hand and pulled you down the hallway to show you the roses that had started to bloom outside of the hotel.

It was a paradox, a mystery that intrigued you. Alastor's shadow, a creature of darkness, was surprisingly sweet, charming, and, at times, downright romantic. How could such a lovely thing be attached to such a vile being?

It had been like any other day. Alastor's shadow had found you in your office early in the morning, going through all the paperwork that needed to get done that day. In its shadowy hand, it held one blueberry muffin and your favourite coffee mug with a sleepy bear on it, along with the text Bearly Awaken written underneath.

The coffee had been divine because, somewhere, the shadow had learned to make a cup of coffee exactly how you wanted it.

You continued with your day in the presence of Alastor's shadow, walking together down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the front door as you chatted with the shadow. You had gotten quite good at interpreting its pantomimes and overexaggerated emotions and often found yourself laughing at any antics the shadow pulled.

It followed you all day as you walked around the city, picking up the materials Charlie needed for her next exercise with the hotel residents. The shadow even helped you pick out the colours for the ribbons and paints.

At one point, the shadow's long finger had brushed against yours. It had been a cold sensation, almost like being touched by mist, but that had not mattered to you as you blushed before looking away. Missing how the shadow practically folded in on itself when it saw your reaction.

Was it possible to date a shadow and not the being it was attached to?

The sun was setting when you and Alastor's shadow got back to the hotel. The lobby was almost empty except for Husk, who was polishing martini glasses by the bar. As soon as he saw the two of you enter the hotel, Husk leapt over the bar and rushed over to you.

"I don't know where the fuck the two of you have been, but you need to leave now before he finds out that your back," Husk whispered to you as he gripped your arm to turn you around towards the door.

"And you!" he said towards the shadow, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

The shadow made a high-pitched whine as it stepped closer to you. You were about to ask Husk what he had meant when a loud voice boomed inside the hotel.

"Where are you?"

Husk's hand tightened around your arm as he started to pull you towards the door. You followed after him, paralysed by action, as a stone of fear got stuck in your throat. The shadow looked at you, then back at the stairs and then back at you again with anxious eyes.

Loud steps could be heard from the hallway above the staircase, and Alastor's shadow began to be dragged towards the stairs as if by an invincible force. It desperately dug its claws into the ground, and the shadow let out a wailing scream as it looked at you with big, pleading eyes.

Alastor was calling his shadow back to him.

The shadow continued to fight the force of its master's call, leaving deep claw marks on the floor, and, as if a gunshot had been fired at the room, the force wholly let go of the shadow. The shadow rushed back to you, where it clung to your body like a second skin.

"Get back here, you disgraceful thing!" Alastor could be heard shouting as a massive hand gripped the hallway doorframe and pulled itself forward. It was the hand of Alastor's most demonic form.

Beside you, Husk had begun to shake as his claws dug into your skin.

"You need to run. Now!" he tried to push you towards the door, but it was too late. From around the corner, Alastor stepped from the dark into the light, but as he stepped forward, he shrank in size. Still, he looked terrifying.

His eyes were a deep red with volume controllers as irises, hiding any emotions he may have had. His antlers had grown in size, sharp and imposing, making the sinner look almost regal as he sauntered down the stairs.

"Thank you, Husker." he said, his voice dripping in venom, "I can take over now."

Husk was about to protest loudly when he disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and you were left alone with the enraged sinner.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alastor snarled as you started to shake where you were standing. A small whine could be heard beside your neck as the shadow clung closer to you.

"I don't know..."

"I'm not talking to you!" Alastor's look silenced you but confused you for a second before you saw his eyes drop down to your neck, where the shadow hid.

"Come back here and stop resisting," Alastor snarled again and stepped towards you. The shadow gave away a low whine as it clung closer to your body, and you realised it didn't want to return. In a fit of temporary insanity, you placed a protective hand over the arms of the shadow around you and stepped away from the sinner.

"No!"

"What do you mean no? It's my shadow," asked Alastor as he looked back at you in confused rage.

"He doesn't want to be with you anymore," you snapped and turned your nose up. You stepped to the side to walk around the sinner, effectively walking away with his shadow, but as you walked past Alastor, his hand shot out, and he tried to grab your arm. But you were faster; with your other hand, you slept Alastors hand away from you and the shadow.

"Will you stop it! Don't you understand that we want nothing to do with you, so just leave us alone!"

With determined steps, you started walking over to the staircase to get as far away from the deer demon as possible. However, you didn't get far until you felt the shadow clung even more to you as it let out a pitiful sob. Its head had fallen over your shoulder as it looked up at you with longing eyes—a gaze it shouldn't be giving you since you had just saved it from its cruel master.

"What's the matter?" you asked it as you tried to caress its cheek, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw something that you never thought you would see.

Without a smile and ears hanging low against his head, Alastor looked at you with the same miserable longing that the shadow looked at you with. And that's when you remember something your mother used to say to you when you were a child, a long time ago.

Our deepest desires, our most precious wishes and longings, hide in our shadows. Everything we want follows us within our shadows as the weights of our souls.

You wanted to kick yourself for being so foolish, for not understanding until now. Maybe a small part of you had always known, but it had been easy to ignore in your imaginary rivalry with the sinner. But a shadow never lies. Even the ones who can think and act on their own. They will always mirror their owner's heart's wishes and act upon them when the host won't take charge of getting what they desire.

"You're in love with me," you whispered. It was not a question but a statement—a statement that seemed to hang in the air for an eternity but not long enough.

“How? What? When?” you asked, desperate for answers.

Alastor walked hesitantly towards you, looked you deep into your eyes and did something you never thought he would do. He kissed your cheek.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his warm lips softly touched your cheek, and when he pulled away, you could still feel their presence against your skin. As if you were branded by their sweet touch.

"Come now," was the last thing he said to his shadow as he walked around you and back up the stairs. Alastor's shadow made a melancholic chirping noise before it let go of you and followed its master.

You were left alone in the big hotel lobby. Wishing that it was your lips Alastor had kissed and not your cheek.

I really hope it lived up to the expectations, but I loved writing it! It got a lot more angsty than I first intended...

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x you #x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x you #alastor x reader angst #hazbin hotel alastor x reador angst #hazbin hotel angst

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risuola · 3 days

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ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU

My eyes are glossed, And my heartbeat skips, I crave, I am lost In the nectar of your lips.

cw: arranged marriage!au, fluff — 2,0k words

a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!

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“What the hell am I doing–“

You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.

Mochi.

A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.

“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.

The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.

You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.

You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.

Take the dough.

Scoop on the filling.

Close the dough.

Roll.

Repeat.

You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.

To the fridge they go.

Now clean.

* * *

Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.

Oh right, mochi!

It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.

“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.

“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“

“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.

“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”

“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”

“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”

“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.

“So, you’re fine with the idea?”

“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”

“Why would I–“

“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”

“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”

“Don’t peek.”

Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.

“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.

Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.

“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.

“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“

“You made this mochi for me?”

Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.

“You made all of this? With your hands?”

“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”

Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.

“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”

“That easy, huh?”

“That easy.”

You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.

You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”

There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.

“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.

He wanted more.

Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.

You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.

The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.

You should stop it.

You wanted more.

He should stop it.

He wanted more.

It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.

taglist: @kinny-away , @anan-baban , @lotomber , @netflix-imagines , @kawliflo , @nishloves , @ghostfacefricker6969 , @thejujvtsupost , @yozora7154 , @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost , @ae-mius , @ropickle , @chokesonspit

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haikyu-mp4 · 1 day

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Two jobs, part 2

word count; 1107 – set a few years after part 1, reader and Osamu are married and the three of you live together. I gave your son a name, Kazuo, to make writing easier

You were away on a business trip and left your two favourite guys to take care of each other for a few days. Luckily, you didn’t have to do this often, but you were relieved they got along so well that you could. Even though Kazuo grew attached to Osamu in a way before you two even started dating, it had been an adjustment for all of you after you got married and moved in together, especially because your son was at his most difficult age.

Currently, Kazuo sat on a bar chair by the island counter while Osamu made dinner. The two would often hang out in the kitchen together, because Kazuo liked spending time with Osamu when he had an excuse for it. He also found it hilarious when he asked his stepdad for help with his homework and Samu got frustrated because he didn’t understand it either. It was a peaceful connection they had, and you usually did your best to let them have their time in the kitchen to themselves even when you were home.

“Hey, look at this.” Osamu said to catch his attention. When Kazuo looked up, he did some weird juggling trick with the pepper shaker before adding the necessary seasoning to the soup he was making. Then he did the same with the salt to show it wasn’t a fluke. “Am I cool, or what?” It was meant as a joke, but there was a hopeful look in his eyes.

Kazuo made a face. “Uhh… yeah.” he said, which was an obvious lie, making Osamu deflate. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt particularly sensitive about it all of a sudden. Perhaps it had something to do with the difference of how Kazuo looked when he got to play volleyball with his twin compared to how he politely declined lately when Osamu asked him if they should do some passes in the garden.

“Do you not think I’m cool?” he asked after a long silence, leaning one hand on his hip while the other stirred the soup to make sure it didn’t stick to the bottom.

“Not like Tsumu.” Kazuo answered honestly without thinking about it, eyes on his homework so he didn’t notice his stepdad’s face scrunching up. If he thought he felt sensitive before, that one hit the spot for sure. “But it’s okay, being a chef is good too.” The boy honestly didn’t think adults cared so much about being cool.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t take pity on me now.” he said followed by a deep sigh. “Maybe I should cook you instead, you gremlin.” Kazuo just laughed, unknowing of Osamu’s bruised ego. When he turned back to his homework, Osamu pulled his phone out and opened messages, sending a simple ‘You’re ugly and stupid’ to Atsumu without context. That made him feel a little better, at least. You bet he’ll call you that night before bed for some reassurance. And to remind you that he loves you, of course.

Sometimes, Kazuo was allowed to go to parties in exchange for sharing his location at all times while he was away with whichever parental figure was home at the time. Usually, the parties were alright. Typical underage parties where someone had stolen a few beers from a parent and they all tasted it before looking disgusted and swearing to never drink it again. He would be picked up at the agreed time with a few complaints of how lame you were for setting those rules, and then he would tell you he loved you under his breath before going to bed.

However, they were growing older and that came with engaging in new topics of interest. That’s how Kazuo ended up in a game of seven minutes in heaven that he desperately wanted out of. It’s not like he could just tell them he might prefer guys over girls, he wasn’t even sure yet himself! It was all too much, so he snuck away and pulled out his phone with slightly shaky hands. You’re still on your business trip, and he was starting to miss you even though he would never tell you that. After all, you were the only one he relied on for the first 10 years of his life.

He pulled up his contacts on the old phone you had gifted him, scrolling past your contact until he got to a Miya. Even though he knew Atsumu liked spending time with him, he didn’t seem to have that much spare time anymore. Actually, he probably wouldn’t call Atsumu for an emergency anyways, he realised. Tsumu was more of a cool uncle, like he told Osamu in the kitchen the day before. Now that he was in trouble, he already knew who he had to call.

“Samu…” Kazuo said, voice cracking a little so he pretended to clear his throat.

“What’s up, buddy?” Osamu sounded tired, like he had taken a nap in that recliner he loved to occupy when you weren’t home. If you knew he snoozed off while your boy was at a party, you would not be happy, but at least he picked up the phone.

“Can you come pick me up?” he asked not too loudly, frowning at the floor. “I’m okay, I just want to go home.” He tried to sound tough and chill, but it didn’t fool Osamu.

“Sure, I’ll head out now. Go outside in about 15 minutes but not before. Actually, stay inside until I’m there.” Kazuo chuckled a bit at Osamu’s short ramble where he corrected himself, then he hummed in confirmation and hung up. So he told his friends he was feeling under the weather and went outside when Osamu came to pick him up.

Kazuo didn’t say much more than “Thanks for picking me up,” and “I don’t want to talk about it,” after getting in the car, and Osamu knew he would rather tell you about it than him, so he didn’t pry.

Instead, he clicked his tongue with a cheeky smile. “You know, the new Star Wars movie just came out for streaming. I won’t tell your mom we stayed up late if you don’t.”

And as he looked to the side where Kazuo fiddled with his hands in the passenger seat wearing a relieved smile, safe because he dared text him for help, Osamu decided that he didn’t need to be cool. He just had to be there.

Even so, his chest bloomed with pride when Kazuo came out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth for the night and told him, “Thanks for the movie, Samu. You are pretty cool.”

masterlist

taglist: @miyamizuna, @makkir0ll, @shiratorizawa-can-step-on-me, @sobbing-leave-me-alone-bots, @eeerreehhh, @f4iryk3i, @cosmiicdust, @malikazz243

#haikyu x reader #haikyu #haikyuu #hq x reader #fanfiction #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #stepdad!osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu #osamu x reader

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sil3ntfr34k · 3 days

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Postal 4 boyfriend Headcanons

(Guess who found about how to do a buillted list insides of manually putting dots :D)

Mans is probably in his early 40’s and feeling every second of it.

He’s not much a romantic, but he knows how to love. Like he knows he’s supposed to give you gifts, listen to you rant, support you in anything, hug you, give affection and words of encouragement, the whole sha-bang. Is he good at it tho? Kinda,,,

You probably met him during his ‘job hunting’, when he was running around this a sign that said something along the lines of “Willing to do something strange for a bit of change”. Caught your attention IMMEDIATELY

You thought he wasn’t too bad looking, something of a roughed up silver fox. He was pretty toned for someone his age, forearms are pretty big and that’s just what you needed. You ended up taking him up on his offer and made him clean out your gutters. You just sat there and watched as he worked himself throwing out heaps of wet leaves and random junk from your gutters.

He came out obvious dirty so you gifted him $40 and a shower. It’s like heavens light shined upon him when he heard the words “You can take a shower here if you’d like?” fall from your mouth was enough for him to marry you in that moment.

Postal Dude has been raw dogging it homeless style for a couple months up to this point, so any kind of reward he came across was a fortune to him. Gladly accepting this kind gesture, he was still thrown out for the rest of the day. You both came upon an agreement that he could stay the nights on your couch, but he still had to go ‘job hunting’ during the days. Didn’t matter to him, he still accepted it. As long as he had a safe place to sleep with Champ.

Side note, you loathe Champ being around during the day since he digs holes everywhere in your front AND back yard, so you make Dude take Champ with him everyday. Dude doesn't mind since Champ is kinda like an attack dog so homie very useful when Dude's walking around

Once your relationship with Dude has reached it's peak (dating), he becomes very attentive and energetic. Where he was once tired and reclused, he's now got some energy in him and filled with affection

Dude loves to be around you and touching you. Biggest love languages are quality time and physical touch, sometimes words of affirmation if he's feeling extra sappy. He's probably been through the works of brutal relationships, so he really wants to settle down, which leads me to my next thought

Mans is getting old and creaky. Sure he's still got muscle and all, but they're honestly just for show. He couldn't hold back Champ from attacking someone he isn't supposed to even if his life depended on it. So, he's staring to wear down and just wants to find someone to relax with.

Red flag time, he's talking about marriage about 2 months into the relationship and tries to move his scrap in without you noticing, which usually fails. It's not that he's using you for your home, Dude just wants to feel like he's finally in a normal relationship. No bitchy attitudes being thrown around, no constant nagging for something stupid, no arguing over small things, no constant threats, just y’all being in love together

Eventually your gonna have to let Champ wonder the house and train him to be a guard dog rather than just an attack dog. You’re definitely the one to look up dog training classes and making Dude go with you to these said classes.

Even with how much he loves to be around you, there are still times when his mental and physical illnesses make him ill 😔 but he still tries to snap out of it

His main problems are most likely his chronic muscle pains and his auditory schizophrenia. (I think all the dudes are some sort of schizo, it’s just that p1 and p2 are the strongest showing ones)

Being older means his body is slowly deteriorating. Sure he’s not that old, but with how he lived in his golden age, he should really be dead. Constantly on the run from the government, having to stay sharp to kill, and fucking his way through Paradise and Edensin, he’s ready to just lay down and let the earth reclaim him

Having a long history of schizophrenia in the family and his own lifetime, it’s thankfully dwindled down to just hearing voices randomly. Since he can only hear these voices it doesn’t scare him as bad as it used to. All he can really hear is a distant conversation that he can’t make out the words to, it’s sort of like a mumbling between a woman and a man. Many times you’ve found him franticly wondering the house with a confused look on his face saying “I thought there was people in here?”

Overall, he’s an old man who’s been through enough and would just like to relax. Give him kisses, give him cuddles, feed him, and talk to him, and he’ll love you for eternity (so gay)

#postal #p1 dude #running with scissors #postal 4 #postal headcanons #postal dude x reader #postal game #postal 3 dude #postal x male reader #postal x reader #x reader

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sonkitty · 17 hours

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Crowley S2 Hair Post #21

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 1, The Clue, your boss

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are long before Crowley fully crosses the threshold. They most likely lengthened while Aziraphale was touching the astragal and doorknob to his bookshop.

This shift suggests that the border is already expanding for entry compared to the previous episode. Aziraphale is looking at Crowley so has probably noticed.

Gabriel is on the first floor though not visible to Crowley when Crowley first entered. With both Gabriel and Aziraphale around, the sideburns stay long during the scene.

When Crowley turns to Aziraphale and says, "Your boss said that to Job, do you remember?" is when it looks like the story itself most wants these long sideburns to be noticed. It's a strong right profile view of his face so gets a good look at the snake tattoo as well.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

The more saturated red streak of hair can best be found when Crowley removes his sunglasses and approaches Gabriel. That matches what episode 1 showed. Such times are when it is most clearly visible.

...

Hairstyle Changes

The hair darkened and lessened in saturation. Besides those changes, the hair tilting to Crowley's right is a little lower for a stronger overall curl for the upper hair going to his left.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Aziraphale is touching the doorknob for the outside part of the door and the astragal first. He shifts his touch, so that he ends up touching the doorknob on the inside as well.

He crosses the threshold first but doesn't actually fully close the door until after Crowley has passed him and even stepped down. As I've remarked many times, I've taken note of Crowley prioritizing being first when it comes to the Heaven elevator, but going over the story more closely shows it varies on who can be first in what and how. That confuses me, but I still think, on an intuitive level, it's supposed to matter for the Heaven elevator. This "first" thing is one of my top questions. At the rate I'm going, if it's one of the solvable puzzles, I don't think I can solve it.

I think the Tied Hands finish retying.

Crowley's right thumb joint touches a jacket edge when Crowley is crossing the threshold near Aziraphale. Aziraphale used his index fingers several times while crossing the street, including one time where a thumb visually touched Crowley's jacket. Still, Crowley's right index finger can be seen "making a point" shortly after that thumb joint touch. It's not as clear as other times, but it's there and likely assisted from all of Aziraphale's index finger use.

The strands push off the apparel for a bit, lining up with Crowley's left arm, then making pockets with the door windows twice, as Crowley himself moves.

When he keeps moving, his watch is also visible. As he's stepping down is the strike that I think is meant for a lapel edge as part of the retying process. He is making a pocket with his legs. This pocket is mostly his left leg, some books, and the bottom of the screen.

A little more happens with one of the strands shooting forward more than the other, so the tassel is quite loose. When it comes back to Crowley's chest, the strands collectively push off again to make a brief pocket before returning to their usual place on the shirt and vest.

With that, I think they are finally officially re-tied.

Crowley is quick to grab an earthly object himself. He picks up a Jane Austen book.

When Gabriel appears, he's holding books and shelving them.

Now it's time for the next touch of The Sunglasses Trick.

Here is a GIF:

This time, we're at the first Single of a group of three Singles that become a Triple.

These touches are based mainly on Crowley using different sunglasses and hissing for each touch. They occur all in a row.

The different sunglasses are what help determine this group of three is the group of Singles that become a Triple.

The hisses are the commonality found between these touches that allow the switch to the Triple at all. By hiss, I refer to a subtle demonic hiss sound effect Crowley has when he removes the sunglasses. These things are not easily heard; it's something I learned about browsing Tumblr, listened, and eventually grasped when actually putting these pieces together.

These hisses are also, in my opinion, a hint about Crowley's POV on the story.

For these Singles, there is an extra factor of an earthly object is always "held".

The earthly object this time is the Jane Austen book. Up next, will be crows that are turned into goats, understood as a miracle hold of those animals. Third, will be a glass of wine. These earthly objects look to be an interesting requirement for this part of the Trick, given that the Threshold Tricks themselves are careful about when and how earthly objects are avoided. The Perfect Entrance Trick showed us they aren't completely avoided so much as they are managed with the game's mechanics—in that case likely neutralizing the window pane of the door.

So, if you want to get really silly on thinking that Crowley is just amazing and powerful, he's too powerful to hiss alone and needs the earthly object to control and lessen the impact of the hiss. Or something. Blaming pockets is usually a good option in the game too.

Now, did this Single have overhead lights? Probably, but I don't fully understand the finer mechanics of what's happening so can't explain it well.

Crowley may have received overhead lights as early as when he grabbed the book, but we'll cover that part later with the story commentary.

Before Crowley walks closer to Gabriel, there are three lights to his left and above his ear. When he walks closer, those lights become blurry. He fully obscures one and partially obscures another. There are even more other blurry lights above his ear and to his left. There is a small set of three closer to the ones he's already possibly using. Then there are another two partly shown lights near a pillar. These lights look like they could be for Aziraphale since they are closer to him and to Aziraphale's right. The possible issue there is that Aziraphale's right ear isn't showing, and he's not capitalizing on the Metatron's mistakes, like he does in episode 6 for The Door Catch.

Another confusing factor for the overhead lights is that the next touch almost certainly doesn't have them during the actual touch because it's in the minisode. So, these lights could be like an extra reserve for that upcoming touch, especially since lights will again be shown with Crowley right before the minisode starts.

Since the Belt Head is ensured to be visible when the touch starts, that does suggest to me that these lights are relevant.

Another thing that happens is how amazingly fast the Tied Hands are retied after the touch. Crowley is making a point with his index finger while touching the book. That touch is still on camera when the sunglasses are removed from the face. He's making a pocket with his left jacket sleeve and left jacket torso. The clasp strike to a lapel edge most likely happens near the end of the cut. There's no visible thumb joint of his up to anything, but something can be found with Gabriel.

After a few cuts, Gabriel's left thumb MCP joint can be found near his jacket—particularly, his jacket pocket. Meanwhile, the CMC joint is near the edge of the jacket itself. Aziraphale is visually pocketed between Crowley and Gabriel. So, by then, the Tied Hands are probably retied before the minisode actually starts. After this possible thumb joint assist, the Belt Head also gets an extra shot before the minisode starts.

That was plenty of pocket stuff, but let's go over the other pocket stuff not mentioned yet.

For some reason, there's a brief cut where Crowley is visually pocketed between Aziraphale and a pillar as he realizes Gabriel is there.

A notable pocket is that when Crowley stands on the rug, his leg, presumably, is making a pocket with an already existing shadow on it. I don't know what's actually casting that already existing shadow on the rug. This pocket remains for three cuts before Crowley removes his sunglasses.

Additionally, when this shadow pocket is active, Crowley's right hand is rather particular about its position. The jacket sleeve, shirt sleeve partially out, and the right hand make a small brief pocket with the jacket lower right side below the belt. The pocket is shown again in the second cut, briefly obscured by Gabriel's left arm. When Gabriel talks about the people who were just in the shop, and Crowley slightly raises his head in interest, the pocket stays on for the full cut.

It's gone when Crowley finally moves to remove his sunglasses.

With the touch on the sunglasses, a pocket forms between Crowley's right hand, right cheek, and right shoulder. Yet another pocket forms between his left side torso of the jacket and left jacket sleeve. Still, a third pocket appears between his legs and the bottom of the screen.

When asking Gabriel what is the very first thing he remembers, a small pocket forms between Crowley's right arm, Gabriel's right thumb, part of his own jacket sleeve, and right index finger. As such, there's a pocket between Gabriel's right hand and the bottom of the screen.

After these pockets disappear is when Gabriel himself is visibly overcome, fluttering his eyes and tensing, before his eyes turn to a glowing purple.

Before Crowley gets his overhead lights with the minisode about to start, there is a self-made pocket of hair that can be found. Since the area is dark or dim, and Crowley's hair is dark, it's actually found to contain some of the books from the upper floor to help make it more clear that it's actually there.

Then Crowley gets those earlier mentioned overhead lights. It's a set of three with one partially obscured, so that's one for his regular head and one for his Belt Head, theoretically. He's going to be wearing a headband during the minisode. This part happens as the camera pans closer to him and Aziraphale with Crowley presumably the one meant to receive a stronger focus. Aziraphale is still on screen and will still be around when the incoming part of this minisode concludes. As such, this recollection of the memory will be shared.

Setting aside the pockets, something I find interesting with the earthly objects is that Gabriel had just finished putting books away when Crowley hissed at him with the sunglasses touch. As in, I think the reason it hurt as much as it did was because Gabriel wasn't touching an earthly object himself anymore. He'll receive another hiss later, but he will be touching an earthly object because he'll be sitting on a bed.

That hiss won't affect him in the same way though it will also be after the special connection between Crowley's and Aziraphale's homes has formed.

It's a small theory of mine that the earthly objects help the supernatural beings feel more strongly anchored while on Earth itself. Gabriel quickly reaches out and touches a shelf, for example.

This idea is part of what the Final Fifteen is about. Both Crowley and Aziraphale—on a layered level—know they shouldn't be touching earthly objects. They have to let go. They're saying good-bye for now, not just to each other, but to this special place, most of their shared home they established on Earth. They have to go because they have work to do.

The part of the shared home that stays with them is Crowley's plants and the maintained Green of the Rainbow Connection.

...

For my tangential reading in a desperate attempt to improve my play, I'm still re-reading the Good Omens book. Besides imagination, as noted in my pub visit post, there's plenty of mentions of memories and games. Agnes' prophecies are based on her remembering bits of the future. Anathema words things like so, "You see, it’s not enough to know what the future is. You have to know what it means."

Here's an excerpt about Adam and games:

Adam also had a small computer. He used it for playing games, but never for very long. He’d load a game, watch it intently for a few minutes, and then proceed to play it until the High Score counter ran out of zeroes. When the other Them wondered about this strange skill, Adam professed mild amazement that everyone didn’t play games like this. “All you have to do is learn how to play it, and then it’s just easy,” he said.

Ha! Well, Earthly Objects in Good Omens 2 definitely isn't easy.

Otherwise, I've also started on The Sandman Volume 3. Shakespeare has just shown up again. Something's going on with A Midsummer Night's Dream, so now I'm sad I've forgotten so much of that play. We performed it at my high school. I was just an extra. Still, I remember being quite fond of the play itself.

A quote from The Sandman Volume 3 that I've logged as something to keep in mind for Good Omens 2 is, "Dreams shape the world."

...

Story Commentary

When Crowley enters, he is given significant focus when he looks at the bookshelf to grab the Jane Austen book. He gets special music for looking at the books and a massive lighting hint to pay attention to him. He is almost a silhouette as the light from the windows surrounds him. It's a beautiful shot.

Well, we've already paid plenty of attention to him, but let's look again for anything else not already covered, especially in the cut itself.

He is pocketed between a dark horse statue and the bookshelf.

Another dark horse statue was important for being the earthly object he placed his sunglasses on in episode 1. He's about to do that first Single-for-eventual-Triple touch for the The Sunglasses Trick during this cut. The phrase "dark horse" has already been used twice in the show with Crowley specifically saying it regarding Jane Austen earlier in this episode. This statue disappears during the ball but is back in place after Crowley cleans up the bookshop in episode 6.

The window Crowley's in front of is important because it is broken during episode 5 and remains broken until he fixes it in episode 6. I suspect there is something important about it being broken while he's in Heaven, just intuition there. Another thing is that when that windows is broken, it has a role to play for The Pocket Trick's Single. For this cut, there are three lights visibly over Crowley's head.

As noted earlier, they could be an early link for overhead lights regarding the sunglasses touch(es), leading from one set to the next, managed by the book being held.

Speaking of the book, what about the overall group of books? Well, they're possibly in a book for this story. I know posts have been made about how The Final Fifteen is like proposals out of Jane Austen books, Pride and Prejudice in particular. It kinda is, but there's a special proposal that happens later this episode, in my own understanding of the story.

It's been a long time since I've read any Jane Austen books myself, and I don't remember them well so can't contribute much on that end.

Otherwise, hey, look at Crowley. He himself is important, especially this episode. He's conceivably best player in Earthly Objects. He's got his tactical turtleneck today, and he hasn't even started on The Pocket Trick yet. It's gonna be a big deal.

Alright enough of that.

...

The cardboard box can again be found without Crowley bothering to look at it in his line of sight during the scene.

...

This scene is interesting and open to plenty of speculation on what happens after Crowley hisses.

Crowley himself seems taken aback at Gabriel's reaction. Yeah, Crowley hissed, but he wasn't expecting that. "That" being glowing purple eyes with a quote from God to Job.

It's also part of the idea of compelling someone for an answer that I mentioned in the post about when Crowley first encountered Gabriel in episode 1.

The way Aziraphale looks at both of them and Crowley's own reaction to Gabriel struggling suggest that Crowley himself has been in a similar position to Gabriel.

As in, Crowley has also forgotten things, struggled to remember them, and had to mentally plow through the challenges to recover what he could.

Aziraphale has been around for that difficulty.

For Crowley's reaction, I'm mainly referring to that he seems to be breathing nervously as he watches Gabriel, while Aziraphale is glancing between both of them.

...

On the subject of the sideburns and rank, Aziraphale is still ultimately in charge of his own space. He's the one who tells Gabriel to go and have a rest. Gabriel pauses a moment to look at Crowley, as if for approval. With no sign of disapproval or Crowley trying to make him remember yet again, that's enough to go ahead and leave the area.

...

I can see the red on the back of the collar on Crowley's jacket in at some points in the scene though it's blurred:

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

#crowley #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens s2 #david tennant #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #good omens theories #good omens theory

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